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Chapter Text

“If you hold still it wouldn’t hurt as much!” Belle exclaimed, pulling the damp cloth back as Beast lashed out at her. Granted, she had not warned him cleaning his wound would sting, but shouting in her face was unacceptable.

“If you hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened!” he shot back, gesturing at the four long gashes one of the wolves had left in his arm.

“Well if you hadn’t frightened me, I wouldn’t have run away!” she snapped right back. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the castle servants cowering behind a table to her right, clearly afraid of how this argument would go. It did nothing but strengthen her resolve; clearly no one had argued with Beast before, but she would not be so lenient.

“Well you shouldn’t have been in the West Wing!”

“Well you should learn to control your temper!”

He had nothing to say to that. Belle inwardly smiled as he opened his mouth for another retort, but came up empty and slumped back in his chair.

“Now hold still,” she continued, softening her voice. “This might sting a little,” she added, her warning too late to avoid a shouting match, but she was learning, too. Beast flinched as the cloth touched his wound, but he didn’t shout again. A small warmth blossomed in her chest as she watched his attempts to remain in control.

“By the way,” she offered as she cleaned his wound, “thank you for saving my life.” She watched Beast’s expression change from one of pain to shock, his eyes widening briefly before regaining his composure.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his rumbling voice gentle, his blue eyes softening, but not quite meeting hers.

Belle said nothing more as she finished cleaning and dressing his wounds. She had been proud of herself for sitting so close to him, for touching him as she tended to his wound, for standing her ground against his tantrum. But, despite the argument they just had, she had been touched by the fact that he had rescued her from the wolf pack in the forest. Whether he had been following her or had heard her scream and arrived in time, she didn’t know yet, but the fact remained that she was alive because of him.

And she couldn’t forget the unabashed need she saw in his eyes when he collapsed in the snow, exhausted and wounded. For a moment, his shield of anger had dropped and she was able to glimpse a piece of his true soul, a confirmation that there was so much more to him than she knew.

“There now,” she sighed and sat back, ignoring a twinge in her leg as she did and focused instead on wrapping up the excess bandages. “Keep your arm clean and dry, all right? I’ll change the dressing tomorrow, but for now you should rest.” She avoided his gaze as she continued tidying up. The sudden kindness that had entered his eyes unnerved her a little; no one in her memory had looked at her so softly before.

“Thank you,” she heard him say and Belle couldn’t help but look up at him in surprise; it was the first time he had said those words to her and, based on how the servants began slowly emerging from hiding, it was a shock to them as well. Beast paused another moment and Belle couldn’t tell if he wanted to say something else, but he rose from his chair and disappeared through the door with no more sound than the slight rustle of his cloak.

Belle sighed and collapsed onto the recently vacated chair, resting her arms on the still-warm cushion as she continued to sit on the floor, suddenly exhausted by the emotional strain she had just undergone.

“Well done, ma cherie!” Lumiere exclaimed, hopping towards her on his brass stand. “I cannot believe the Master actually listened to you!”

“That’s more he’s done with any of us,” Cogsworth snorted. “Lord knows we’ve all tried to get him to clean his wounds and rest after he had been hurt.”

“This has happened before?” Belle was horrified at the thought of such a thing happening to him multiple times. Was it to save some other unknowing human, or was he… hunting? She was afraid to ask, but Lumiere offered the information unbidden.

“When he was younger, the Master would go into the forest and hunt. We feared that the beast within him would take over if he continued, as we are turning more and more into things,” he added with a creaky bend of his torso. “When he was wounded taking on a bear, we had all begged him to stop his foolishness.”

“A bear?” Belle gasped but supposed after seeing his strength tackling an entire pack of wolves, it would be possible.

“Now, now,” Mrs. Potts interrupted before Lumiere could elaborate. “I think you should be getting out of those wet things and get some rest yourself.”

Belle smiled at Mrs. Potts’ motherly kindness and stood to do as she asked, but the pain she had felt in her leg earlier shot through her like hot iron and she collapsed back onto the floor. Immediately the servants surrounded her, asking if she was all right, if there was anything wrong.

“I’m…I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I think I wounded my leg.” She remembered the wolf that had pounced at her after his companion had knocked her down. Beast arrived in time to rip it off her, but she had felt its claw tear into her leg as Beast tossed it away. She had forgotten about it in her terror, and then in her concentration in helping Beast back to the castle, but now it was shameless in announcing its presence. A well-placed cloth had concealed the blood that had stained her dress before, but now Belle removed it to find her dress soaked with her own blood from a gash above her knee.

“All right, dearies, let’s give Belle some privacy,” Mrs. Potts said calmly as Lumiere and Cogsworth worked themselves up into a tizzy. She shooed them out easily and returned to ask Belle to reveal the wound.

The tear in Belle’s blue dress was small, but her skin had suffered a deep gash nearly as long as her little finger and too deep for the skin to close on its own. Belle could tell that much for herself, having played the nurse for her father many a time. She had to learn, after all his accidents. She could nurse burns, scratches, and even set a broken bone if it wasn’t too bad. So when Mrs. Potts declared that she needed stitches, Belle assured her that she could do that, too. No one else in the castle could do it, anyway; Belle had yet to see anyone with the dexterity of fingers. Some had hands, like Cogsworth, but that wouldn’t be enough, so what choice did she really have?

Belle shuffled forward a little to take full advantage of the firelight while Mrs. Potts’ tea cart brought her the kit that had been brought for Beast’s wounds but not needed. Belle cleaned the wound with a fresh cloth, wiping the blood from the skin as best she could. It was still bleeding slightly, but not so much that it hindered her view. The wound stung as she worked, and Beast’s gentle blue eyes flickered in her mind before she shook her head and refocused.

When she was ready to begin stitching her wound closed, Belle paused for a long moment. It was one thing to take care of her father, it was another thing altogether to take a needle to her own wounds.

“Deep breath, my dear. It will be over soon,” Mrs. Potts said, hopping a little closer. She made Belle feel brave, at least brave enough to start.

With a deep breath, Belle began her work, careful not to flinch as she threaded the needle through her skin over and over. Ten stitches she made in all, and by the end of it she wasn’t sure if she would vomit or faint. Fortunately, she did neither and was able to finish dressing the stitches with the same soft bandages she had used for Beast’s wounds.

“You are so brave,” Mrs. Potts praised, and something in her expression told Belle she wanted to embrace her. Mrs. Potts’ tea cart bounced back into the room and Belle could not remember it leaving, but she had been a bit preoccupied. There was a single teacup on its surface, an inanimate one, and when Belle picked it up there was a small amount of honey-colored liquid inside that stung her nostrils when she sniffed it.

“To give you strength to return to your room,” Mrs. Potts explained when Belle looked a question at the kindly teapot. Belle nodded, grateful for how thorough Mrs. Potts was. She had already guessed that Belle didn’t want Beast to know about her wound, and had done all she could to ensure it was possible.

“Thank you,” Belle said and gulped the contents of the teacup in one swallow, grimacing as it burned her throat but enjoying the warmth that spread through her limbs shortly afterward.

Belle had only had liquor twice in her life; once when she was ill with fever as a child and the doctor had prescribed brandy, and once at a party with her friend in Paris, although her friend had enough that Belle spent the rest of the night holding her hair back from her face while she vomited into her chamberpot. But now that drink was a welcome aid, dulling her senses just enough that Belle was able to stand, able to hobble first to the door and then to the banister of the long, grand staircase. The stairs were the hardest; Belle took them one at a time like a small child, leaning heavily on the banister as her bad leg took her weight. But once she finally reached the top, it was only a short walk to her room.

Her strength was fading, the effects of the drink already wearing off, but she was able to reach her bedroom, close the door, and collapse onto her bed with a small groan in relief.

“Oh dear!” Madame Armoire exclaimed loudly as Belle entered the room. “Belle, dear, what on Earth has happened?”

“It’s all right,” Belle kindly shushed the wardrobe. “I was attacked by a pack of wolves in the forest. Beast saved me, but I hurt my leg a little. He doesn’t know, so please don’t give me away,” she said, trying to smile at the wardrobe to reassure her, but she wasn’t sure if she managed to. Belle doubted the wardrobe would keep her secret, but she was too weary to be concerned about it now.

“Of course, of course!” Madame Armoire agreed. “Here, put on your nightdress and I’ll see that your dress is washed and mended.” Slowly, though she ached from her hard ride through the forest and the sharp pain in her leg made her want to scream, Belle did as the wardrobe suggested, though Madame Armoire’s wooden arms did most of the pulling off and on of her clothes.

At last, Belle was able to climb into bed, dry and warm, and fell asleep in moments, her dreams altering between the terror of the wolves and the warmth of Beast’s eyes.

Chapter Text

“Belle? Belle dear, it’s time to wake up.” Mrs. Potts’ voice broke through Belle’s sleeping mind, interrupting her dreams and coaxing her back into consciousness. “You must eat something, dear,” Mrs. Potts said when Belle opened her eyes. It took Belle a moment to focus on the teapot sitting on her nightstand and the tea cart next to her bearing a tray of food. 

Belle sat up obediently to take the tray but found that her arms wouldn’t support her weight. She collapsed back onto her pillows, accidentally jerking her leg as she did and sent a white hot pain searing up her wounded leg. Belle clamped her lips together to stifle a scream.

“What is it?” Mrs. Potts asked, her voice tight and sharp with concern.

“It’s nothing.” Belle dismissed when she found her breath again. Determined not to worry Mrs. Potts more than she already had, Belle summoned her strength and picked a piece of toast off the tray. She nibbled at it until it was half gone, but it turned her stomach. A sip of water helped calm it and she lay back down, doing her best not to groan. 

“I’ll tell the Master you’re still resting,” Mrs. Potts offered.

“Is he all right?” Belle asked before she could stop herself, worried that his wounds might be hurting as terribly as her own.

“He’s fine, dear,” Mrs. Potts reassured her. “I think he’s worried about you, though he won’t admit it. And you’re worried about him too, aren’t you?” Belle smiled, but said nothing. Mrs. Potts was far too perceptive to try and insist it wasn’t true. “Rest now. I’ll be back again later. Try to eat a little more, alright?”

Belle nodded, her eyelids already growing heavy. “Thank you,” she managed to mutter as Mrs. Potts turned to leave, but didn’t hear if she said anything in response as sleep claimed her.

_________

“Is she all right?” Beast demanded gruffly as Mrs. Potts hopped down the hall away from Belle’s room. He had taken to lurking nearby, not daring to go near the doors of the girl’s bedroom, but finding it hard to stay away after he had heard she had been feeling poorly.

Mrs. Potts jumped at his voice, clearly not expecting him to be there, but answered him just the same. “She’s exhausted, Master. But when I woke her to eat, she wanted to make sure you were well.”

He hoped that Mrs. Potts was telling the truth, though he tried not to let her see how pleased this news made him. Belle was concerned about him. Well, it served her right to worry a bit after what she had put him through last night.

After she had run from him the previous night, the howl of a distant wolf pack prompted him to look into his magic mirror. When he saw Belle being pursued by the animals, his heart had leapt into his throat in terror. He was furious at her for entering his room; by trying to touch the enchanted rose that held his fate, she had nearly destroyed all hope, though she could not have known what her actions might have caused. And in his humiliation at chasing her out, he was certain he had ruined any chance he might have had. But seeing her life threatened tore away his selfish emotions, replacing them with only the need to help, the need to save her.

“Thank you,” he said to Mrs. Potts, realizing he had been silent too long, and continued pacing at the far end of the hall. Those two words were coming easier to him now; he had felt such joy at hearing Belle thank him for saving her, now he was beginning to understand the gravity behind those simple words.

Some hours later, he decided to return to his chamber. Too many servants had passed him by with smirks on their faces, knowing why he was so close to Belle’s room. But he could not distract himself from the worry he felt for the girl.

Night fell as he paced alone in his rooms, but no news was brought to him about Belle. Perhaps she was feeling better, or perhaps something was wrong. He had several ways to find out, and yet he could not make himself seek out the answer. So he waited, pacing the balcony as stars began to dot the sky above him. Finally, he could take it no more and left his room, intent on seeing Belle no matter the hour. Even if she did not want to see him, he would insist if only to calm the fears he had imagined as he waited. But there was no need to take such forceful action.

As he strode purposefully down to Belle’s room, he once again came across Mrs. Potts, but now her face was drawn in real concern.

“Oh, Master thank goodness,” she exclaimed when she saw him. “You must come quickly. Belle—” 

“Is something wrong?” he interrupted. Without waiting for an answer, he bolted to Belle’s door, dropping on all fours to increase his speed. He slid to a halt at her door and put one massive paw on the handle, but paused.

What would he find inside? Was it all right if he entered Belle’s room without asking? Mrs. Potts seemed to think she needed him, but was it true? But before he could make up his mind, the door opened and Cogsworth stood before him.

“M-Master,” he stuttered nervously. Beast stepped over him, having no patience to hear explanations when Belle was so close now. He looked around the room for her and froze in horror to find her sprawled on the floor mere feet from her bed. It looked as if she had tried to reach the door, one arm lying straight in front of her as she lay on her stomach. He dove towards her, kneeling by her side. She wasn’t awake, but she was still breathing.

“What happened?” he demanded of the servants that surrounded him, his voice coming out in a low growl.

“She is ill, Master,” Lumiere explained from his place by Belle’s head. “I think she tried to get help, but wasn’t strong enough.”

“What about the wardrobe?” he demanded, turning on her as he spoke. To his surprise, the wardrobe burst into tears.

“I’m s-so s-sorry Master!” she wailed. “I-I didn’t hear her. I-I’m such a h-heavy sleeper!” 

Beast raised one paw, fuming with anger for this useless servant. He had never struck a servant before, but she had caused Belle harm by her idiocy. Before he could deliver his blow however, Belle moaned. With that small sound came the knowledge that Belle would hate him for what he was about to do. He lowered his paw in shame.

“It’s not your fault,” was all he said and turned to kneel again by Belle’s side. “Tell me what’s wrong with her,” he asked Lumiere, his voice as calm as he could make it. Lumiere was silent, apparently searching for an explanation, when Mrs. Potts at last came through the door.

“She was wounded by one of the wolves last night,” the teapot explained as she hopped closer, gasping with her flight from the room and back again. “She didn’t want you to know because she was concerned you would blame yourself for it. But this morning she was too weak to sit up and she could barely eat anything. I suspected that her wound might have been infected. When I came back again today, she would not wake at all and had a terrible fever. I’ve been looking through our medical stores for something to help her. She must have been frightened while she slept and tried to find help.” Madam Armoire wailed again at Mrs. Potts’ words.

“Will she live?” he demanded, embarrassed that his voice sounded so tight, revealing his worry for the girl.

“That depends on her,” Mrs. Potts said, shaking her head. “The medicines we have here are old and would only make her worse.”

“Well get more,” he hissed through his teeth and turned back to Belle. He couldn’t do much for her, he knew, but at least he might be able to make her more comfortable. He lifted her carefully and carried her back to her bed. She moaned when he moved her, but still did not wake. He could see beads of sweat on her forehead and her skin was far too warm where it touched his hide. 

He placed her on her bed, laying her gently back onto her pillows. Only then did he realize she was only in her nightgown, and it was highly improper for him to see her dressed so. Quickly, he drew the bedsheet up to her shoulders. If he had been human, he would have blushed. 

When he was sure she was as comfortable as possible, he took a step back from her bedside, but was unsure what to do next. A large part of him wanted to stay beside her, to do what he could to see her through this illness, but he was afraid of what she might think if she woke and saw him there.

“Master,” Lumiere started. Beast had forgotten he was there and whirled to face him, embarrassed that Lumiere had seen him during such an awkward moment. “Perhaps you might sit with the girl while the others and I search for something that might help her. We would not want her trying to get out of bed again, would we?”

Beast knew that Lumiere was giving him an excuse to stay beside Belle and was angry that the candelabra could read his thoughts to easily, but nevertheless he was unable to help feel grateful for it.

“Very well,” he grunted and a chair was summoned. He sat a little ways away from Belle where she might see him if she woke but wouldn’t be startled by him sitting too close.

And so he waited, waited for this woman who might be his only hope to wake up.

As he sat by her bedside, he thought back to Mrs. Potts’ words about how Belle had hid her injury so he wouldn’t blame himself for it. Well, he did blame himself. If he hadn’t acted like such a monster she would not have run from him. He watched in his mind’s eye as he pulled the lunging wolf off of Belle, but he couldn’t remember seeing it hurt her. He should have been more careful.

She never told him she had been hurt; if she had, he would have insisted that they take care of her first. Or would he? His wounds had hurt, too. He couldn’t be entirely sure that he would have waited. He certainly wanted to believe he would insist that Belle be taken care of first, but was it true?

He came out of his thoughts when Belle groaned and shifted, one arm emerging from the covers to dangle over the edge of the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, not really knowing what he was doing, he dragged his chair forward a little bit and carefully moved her arm to rest on her stomach. He could see her skin glisten with sweat at the fever raged inside her, whatever infection she was suffering from hurting her where he could not battle. There had to be something he could do.

He looked around at a loss and noticed a bowl of water and a small clean towel Mrs. Potts must have left behind. He took the cloth in his paw and dipped it into the cool water. After a few lingering moments wondering if it was wise to do so, he began dabbing gently at Belle’s forehead.

There was so little he knew about this woman, he realized as he bathed her forehead. He wanted to get to know her more, to know what she was like, but to do that he had to stop acting so shamefully. The selfish prince had to be put aside, he knew, if Belle would ever speak to him after the way he acted last night. He willed himself to do better by this woman; she was so brave to have taken her father’s place as prisoner and so stubborn to have argued with him, he who had been so used to people cowering before him. The least he could do was show her some courtesy. 

“That will keep her more comfortable, that will.” Beast dropped the cloth at Mrs. Potts’ voice, embarrassed to be caught. “I’ve come to let you know that there isn’t anything in the castle that might help her. Lumiere and Cogsworth offered to sneak into the village and see if their doctor might have something. While he’s sleeping, of course. I don’t much like it, but I think it’s all we can do.”

Beast also did not relish the idea of his two servants sneaking into the village. If they were caught, there was no telling how those ignorant villagers might react to a talking clock and candlestick. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of going himself, but while he was skilled at moving through the trees unnoticed, his bulk would be harder to hide on cobblestone streets, even under cover of darkness. No, it would have to be Lumiere and Cogsworth.

“Very well,” he growled. “But tell them to take the carriage to the outskirts, it will be faster that way. And take some gold to leave with the doctor,” he added.

“As you wish, Master,” Mrs. Potts said and left to pass on his orders.

Beast sighed as he turned back to Belle, hoping those two servants would accomplish their task in time. Using the carriage that had returned after depositing Belle’s father back home would speed their progress, but would Belle hang on long enough for them to return? Belle moaned again, and his hope began to fade.

Chapter Text

It was early the next morning, the sky outside the window just beginning to lighten to grey, when he was startled awake by a cry of fear. Groggily, he realized that he was not in the West Wing, that he was sitting in a chair, and last night’s events flooded back to him. He opened his eyes, prepared to see Belle scrambling to get away from him, finally aware of his presence. Instead, he watched as Belle muttered and turned in her sleep, clearly suffering from a nightmare. She was jerking and thrashing under the sheets, seemingly trying to push something off her.

“No, Gaston,” she muttered, fury in her voice. “Beast, help me!”

Beast was startled to hear his name mentioned in her dream, and even more astonished that she would call to him for help. Perhaps he hadn’t ruined everything by chasing her out of the West Wing. A warmth spread through his chest that she should call to him, he couldn’t deny that, but he was worried that her nightmare wasn’t subsiding. She could hurt herself further if she kept up such violent actions.

“Belle, you’re having a dream,” he said bluntly, hoping his voice alone was enough to wake her. He was unwilling to touch her, certain that it would do nothing but repulse her, but the nightmare continued to terrify her. Carefully, he took one of her shoulders in his massive paw and shook her gently.

“Belle, wake up,” he insisted as gently as he could, hoping she would not be more frightened of him than her dream. She woke with a gasp, her eyes snapping open wide with fear, but when her searching eyes found him she seemed to relax. Beast was astonished when she actually smiled at him. He couldn’t help but smile in return, careful to keep his teeth hidden behind his lips.

“Beast,” she said wearily, her voice no more than a whisper, her eyelids drooping over her hazel eyes once more as if she would fall asleep again at any moment.

“You should have told me you were hurt,” he growled, though did not mean to be unkind.

“I’ll be all right,” she insisted with another tired smile before falling asleep once more. 

What if you won’t? he despaired silently. He watched over her sleep for another moment before the urge to stand overtook him. No, standing wasn’t enough. He had to pace, to think, but her chamber did not allow enough room for his stride.

“Madam Armoire,” he called quietly and turned to face the wardrobe, but she wasn’t there. He crept towards the second door in Belle’s chamber, the one that led to the washroom, and heard the wardrobe sobbing inside. He grimaced, unwilling to disturb such a messy display, and instead went into the hall to find another servant.

It was just dawn, but already there was activity in the halls, and it didn’t take long for a message to be sent to summon Mrs. Potts.

“Master, what is it?” she asked frantically as she hopped into view.

“Nothing. I—I just need to go for a walk,” he grumbled, sorry that he had worried her. “Can you watch over the girl for a little while?”

“Of course,” she agreed quickly and hopped past him into Belle’s room. Convinced Belle was well looked after, Beast was able to get away to collect his thoughts.

He actually cared about this girl, he realized as he stalked through the halls. More than just a tool to break his curse, he realized he was growing fond of her. It wasn’t love, at least in the way he understood it, but Belle was slowly finding her way into his heart. It excited him, the idea that he might still be capable of such emotion, and yet he was terrified that it wouldn’t last. There was no hope of Belle returning whatever feelings he had for her, but caring for her was making him feel lighter than he ever had, and it was enough for now.

Beast stopped pacing for a moment to watch the day brighten outside one of the massive windows that lined the upper hallway. It was easy to imagine that Lumiere and Cogsworth were on their way back from the village with Belle’s medicine, but he had no way of knowing. Well, he did, but if the mirror did not show him his two servants safely on their way back with medicine, Beast wasn’t sure he could stand it. 

With an impatient snort, he whirled from the window and continued his pacing, soon finding that he had wound his way back to Belle’s room, not his own. Before he could think too much about why that was, he eased the door open so as to not disturb the room’s occupant.

“Oh, Master I’m glad you’re back,” Mrs. Potts greeted him as he walked in. “Belle hasn’t eaten since that bit of toast yesterday morning and I was hoping you could help me give this to her. It will help keep her strength up,” she said, motioning to a teacup filled with a sweet-smelling liquid.

He nodded, but his heart began to pound at the idea of having such an important role in Belle’s wellbeing. It was one thing to put cool cloths on her forehead when he didn’t have to touch her directly, but helping her drink would require lifting her head for her. 

Careful not to let his hands shake in front of Mrs. Potts, Beast took the cup from the tea tray and eased his massive paw behind Belle’s head so she might drink more easily in her semi-conscious state. He tried not to notice how soft her hair was as he cradled her head in his palm. He lifted the cup to Belle’s lips, but she moaned and turned her head away. At a loss, he looked to Mrs. Potts.

“Talk to her,” she encouraged. “Gently. Let her know it’s going to help her.”

Feeling a bit foolish, he cleared his throat.

“Belle?” he began clumsily, his tongue tripping over the name he had used so little out loud. “Belle, you have to drink this. It will give you strength. Please,” he added after a moment’s pause. 

He could not imagine his words having any effect, but like a miracle, Belle slowly turned her head back and allowed him to help her drink.

“Well done, Master,” Mrs. Potts praised quietly as Belle took several small sips from the cup in Beast’s paw. He was startled by the praise and accidentally spilled some of the liquid down Belle’s cheek, but Mrs. Potts pretended not to notice as he dabbed at it with a cloth.

“What now?” he asked once the cup was empty.

“Now we continue to wait,” Mrs. Potts replied, sagging slightly, and for the first time Beast noticed how much Belle’s illness was wearing on her, too. “I’ll go see if there’s any sign of Lumiere and Cogsworth. If they’re successful, I doubt it will be much longer,” she offered and hopped out of sight. 

Beast could do nothing but resume his vigil over the girl and continue to bathe her feverish forehead.

Chapter Text

“Master! Master, we have returned!” Lumiere’s voice pulled Beast back into consciousness. He wasn’t aware he had fallen asleep and growled as he shifted in his chair, angry at himself for doing such a poor job taking care of Belle. But if Lumiere had come back, that could only mean their mission had succeeded.

“Do you have it?” he grunted, not ready to look at Lumiere in case he had failed after all.

“But of course!” Lumiere exclaimed and he whirled to face the candelabra, but saw no sign of the medicine that might save the girl.

“Well, where is it?” he growled. The candelabra trembled, but explained himself.

“Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts are preparing it for Belle now”

“Good,” he grunted and turned back to check on Belle. She seemed no better than she was at dawn, but that might change in mere moments when he could give her the medicine she needed.

The minutes crawled by; Beast tried to keep his patience, but every moment that passed was another where Belle had to fight, where he had to watch her lie so helpless and ill. When Mrs. Potts’ tea cart pushed the door open, it took all his strength not to bellow at them for taking so long.

“Here Master, give this to her,” Mrs. Potts instructed, motioning to a simple earthenware cup with a foul smelling liquid.

“This will cure her?” he asked, sniffing at it and scowling at the rancid liquid.

“Yes,” Mrs. Potts confirmed. “It will take time to work, though.”

“Why is it in this cup?” he asked, motioning to the less than elegant vessel.

“It would stain the proper cups, Master,” Mrs. Potts explained. It made sense, he supposed. Mrs. Potts took pride in keeping her kitchen tidy. Beast took the cup from the tray and sat on the bed next to Belle to help her drink once more. Belle still did not wake, but she flinched away from the cup. He didn’t blame her for that, but he now knew what to do to help her.

“This will help you, Belle,” he assured her gently. “You must drink it to get well again.” Belle did as she was bid though she coughed as she swallowed the medicine.

“That’s enough for now,” Mrs. Potts said when the cup was half empty. “Let her rest and she can finish that portion in an hour or so.”

Beast nodded and set the cup aside, resuming his chair and his feeble attempts at keeping her fever down with the cool, wet cloth. New bowls reappeared every few hours, courtesy of Mrs. Potts’ tea cart, but neither of them acknowledged the act further. He knew this was the sort of thing a nursemaid would do, not someone as high born as himself, but even if there was another capable of tending to the girl, Beast doubted he would give up his post. He was too involved in her recovery, too anxious to see her wake. So when Mrs. Potts suggested that he get some rest, he only shook his head and continued his work.

She finally left and, with Madame Armoire continuing her weeping in the washroom, Beast was alone with Belle. He moved to dip the cloth into the fresh water for the thousandth time, but something on the table caught his eye. Behind the bowl lay a brown leather bound book, a small length of blue ribbon tucked between its pages to mark the place Belle had doubtlessly left off.

The servants mentioned to him once when the girl first arrived that she enjoyed reading, and he had quickly agreed for them to pick out a few books from the library for her, but he had not paid much attention at the time. 

He picked up the book and turned it over in his paws. Le Morte d’Arthur he struggled to read the title. Beast sighed as he supposed it would be nice if he read to Belle while she slept, but his last reading lesson was an eternity ago, and he was not a studious boy back then.

He replaced the book, feeling an odd sense of shame in his chest, and leaned back in his chair. Perhaps he could tell her a story from memory. No, that was no good either. Mrs. Potts often told him stories as a boy until he grew too selfish and haughty to listen or care to remember them. He surprised himself now by his own sorrow at their loss.

So the minutes passed by silently, each moment he hoped would be the one where the medicine would take effect, the moment Belle might open her eyes. 

Mrs. Potts returned to instruct him to give Belle the remainder of the dose they had started, but quickly left again. He realized that the servants had been leaving him alone with Belle far too much. Did they trust him with her wellbeing so effectively? The thought that she was in his sole charge terrified him until he realized it might be for the sake of the curse that they abandoned him. Perhaps they thought, if Belle made it through this, his care for her might open up the wall he had built between him and the girl, but how could they think of such things when Belle’s life was at stake?

Beast inwardly gasped at the thought: Belle’s wellbeing was more important than the curse. Perhaps there was some hope for his redemption after all, if only Belle would wake.

Beast gave Belle yet another dose of medicine later that day and then was promptly shooed out so Belle’s bandages could be changed. He started to suggest he could help with that as well, but when Mrs. Potts explained that the wound was on her thigh, Beast’s face grew hot and he left, realizing how improper that would be.

As soon as Mrs. Potts reemerged into the hall where he waited, pacing, Beast resumed his watch over Belle. He was a little concerned what Belle might think when Mrs. Potts inevitably reported his actions to her, but he couldn’t help himself; he wanted so desperately to see her through this illness he had caused. He wanted so badly to make things right by this brave woman, to make up for all that he had done.

As night settled over the castle yet again, it occurred to him how little he had slept the past two days. Maybe he should change the dressings on his own wound.  As if sensing his weakness, his stomach gave a loud rumble to remind him that he had not eaten, either. But the servants had disappeared again and he did not want to go even as far as the hall during this crucial time in Belle’s recovery. The medicine had yet to start working, and he would keep her as comfortable as possible until it did.

Chapter Text

Beast jerked himself awake, his eyes snapping open only to be blinded by a primely placed ray of early morning sunlight. Growling, fighting to keep his temper, he straightened up and began to stretch, but realized there was a feather-light weight on his paw. He must have fallen asleep again tending to Belle, for his paw had fallen to the bed beside her, the now dry cloth still cupped in his palm. He was confused by the tiny weight he felt on the back of his paw and was shocked to find that Belle’s delicate, pale hand was gently placed on his paw.

She must have moved in her sleep, he reasoned, embarrassed to have allowed the girl to touch him. But no, when he looked up he saw Belle’s hazel eyes open and gazing at him. Belle was awake; she was alive! His heart leapt and his joy redoubled when he realized that Belle had to have consciously placed her hand on his. Could this mean that she was no longer afraid of him?

“How are you feeling?” he asked, keeping as still as possible and his voice as low as he could to avoid possibly frightening her still.

“Much better,” she replied, her voice weak but the light in her eyes confirmed that she was indeed improving.

“Good,” he grunted and squirmed in his seat, embarrassingly aware of how long her hand had been on his, and even more aware that he wanted nothing more than to enfold her tiny hand between his own paws.

“I’ll let Mrs. Potts know,” he muttered and began to get up, but Belle tightened her grip on his paw. It wasn’t a strong hold, but Beast let it keep him in his chair.

“Thank you,” she all but whispered, the emotion clear in her tired voice.

“I didn’t do anything,” he insisted. “Mrs. Potts, Lumiere, and Cogsworth, they—”

Belle shook her head and he stopped. She smiled at him, but seemed to weary to say anything.

“You should rest,” he suggested as Belle blinked slowly, the effort to keep her eyes open clearly overwhelming. Belle’s hand tightened again and he suppressed the urge to chuckle. “I’ll stay here,” he said in response to Belle’s action. This made her smile and she closed her eyes, asleep in moments. He stayed with Belle’s hand holding his own until her grasp slackened. 

Slowly, he eased out from under her hand and quickly retreated to his own chambers, making sure to alert Mrs. Potts to Belle’s improved condition as he passed her in the hall. He had promised Belle he would stay beside her, but he could not help the terror he felt at the girl’s sudden willingness to be so close to him.

As he made his way between the broken furniture and old bones that littered the West Wing, he gazed at the paw that Belle had touched. He had never imagined that, after the way he had chased her out of this very room, she could find it in her heart to even be near him, let alone touch him. It couldn’t be possible that she could see past his monstrous exterior and horrible mistakes.

He walked out onto the balcony, ignoring the glowing, wilting rose that controlled his fate and instead gazed out upon the castle grounds. Somehow, he had made amends with this beautiful, strong woman and he was terrified of doing something that would shatter their delicate new relationship. He tried to reason that if he wasn’t around her, then he could not possibly do anything to drive her away. Except that he desperately wanted to be near her, so much so that his chest ached.

The excuse to return to her side came just hours later when Mrs. Potts called to him from the door. “Belle needs your help taking the next dose,” she explained as he approached. “She’s still too weak to hold the cup reliably.”

Beast nodded and made his way back down to Belle’s room, his heart inexplicably beating faster as he approached her door.

“You said you would stay,” her small, tired voice met his ears as he entered through the open door. She sounded indignant, but when he met her eyes, he found she was smiling.

“I had some things to attend to,” he muttered in a lame attempt at an excuse.

“I’m sorry to have to bother you with this,” Belle apologized as he picked up the cup that held the medicine. Each word took several heartbeats to say, and he would have hated how weak she seemed if this wasn’t a vast improvement on her condition from just the previous night.

“I don’t mind,” he finally said. “You’ve been through a lot because of me.” Belle started to reply, but he strategically aligned the cup so she had to drink instead.

Belle grimaced as she swallowed. “It tastes awful,” she sighed when she could speak again.

“It saved your life,” he shrugged, frankly not caring if it tasted like sour milk and rotten eggs if it meant she could be here talking to him now.

“So did you,” she retorted pleasantly. “You all did.” He could think of nothing to say, so he remained silent while he helped Belle finish the liquid in the cup.

“You should rest, my dear,” Mrs. Potts said once she was through. “Best not push yourself too hard yet.”

“When do you think I can get out of bed?” she asked. Beast was glad she was feeling up to even ask such a question.

“A couple of days, I should think,” Mrs. Potts replied. “As long as you rest now.”

“But. . .”

“She’s right,” Beast interrupted. “Rest.”

He stood and made his way to the door, cloak billowing behind him in his haste.

“Wait,” Belle called as his paw touched the handle of the door. He half turned, interested in what she had to say. “Thank you for what you did.” Her voice was clear and honest, and his heart warmed at the words. 

“You’re welcome,” he grunted amiably and hastened around the door out of the room.

Chapter Text

Belle was surprised to find that she missed Beast while she was recovering. Though she had not intended to have the intimidating creature tend to her, she was flattered and oddly pleased that he had done so. It was true that she had slept through much of his stay by her bedside, but when she woke to see him beside her she felt safe. These feelings startled her, especially when she knew this was the same creature who had locked her father up to die and chased her out of the West Wing in a rage.

But when she remembered the kindness and warmth in his eyes the night she had tended to his wounds, and the clear pain and need in his eyes when he had collapsed in the woods, it was easy to believe that this was not the same beast at all. When he wasn’t yelling and losing his temper, she could actually see the soul behind his eyes. And when Mrs. Potts had told her all he had done for her while she was so ill, she was convinced that he had shown his true and gentle heart.

Two days after she first woke to find Beast by her bedside, Belle was able to safely walk around her room, but not much further. The pain from wound on her leg was still sharp, but it no longer threatened her life. She cringed at the memory of the angry, hot pain waking her in the middle of the night, searing down her leg like poison. She had been terrified that the pain might consume her with no one to help her. But in the end they had all come, even Beast.

Beast had only visited her twice since she regained consciousness. She wondered if he stayed away because he was a little embarrassed about what he had done for her, or perhaps he was tired of her, having seen her through the worst he was glad to get away. She longed for a chance to find out, but both times he visited he did not stay long enough for much conversation. So instead, Belle spent a large portion of her time stuck in her room, consoling Madame Armoire who wailed every time Belle stumbled or touched her leg. 

On the third day, stir-crazy and itching to leave her room, she finally convinced Mrs. Potts to let her walk around the grounds. ‘Slowly,’ the motherly teapot insisted several times while Belle changed out of her nightclothes and into a new dress Madame Armoire provided for her. 

Belle made sure to give Madame Armoire plenty of praise for the beautiful green dress, the first new dress since her father had given her the blue one. She felt a little strange putting on new clothes, and even stranger still when it fit her so neatly. Part of her felt like she was betraying her father, her home, by putting aside her old blue dress, but it was worth appeasing Madame Armoire for a moment. Poor dear felt so guilty for sleeping through Belle’s panicked night.

Once she was dressed and her hair pulled back as she usually wore it, she felt quite like herself again, even if the fabric she wore was much finer than any she was used to, and the sleeves rather billowed a bit. Still, it was in good spirits that she left her room and found her way to the main door, careful to keep hold of the rail as she descended the steps. Just as she turned the last corner before the door that led to the snowy gardens, she bumped into something large which emitted a grunt of surprise. She caught herself from falling and looked up to see that she had collided with Beast. 

“Oh, Beast,” she said, relieved to finally see him. She was surprised to noticed that he had also changed his clothes. Instead of the ragged trousers and torn purple cape, he now wore tidy black trousers, a new midnight blue cape, and a beautiful white linen shirt. “You look—well—nice,” she said honestly. Had he even combed his fur?

“Um, thank you,” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck and avoiding her eyes. “So do you. It’s good to see you up again.”

“It feels good to be out of my room,” she admitted with a happy sigh. “I was going for a walk on the grounds. Would—would you like to join me?”

“A walk? Outside? Do you think that’s a good idea?” His large eyebrows knit together in what could only be honest concern and Belle smiled at him.

“I feel fine. Mrs. Potts said I would be all right as long as I didn’t exert myself. Are you coming?”

“Oh, I—uh, not right now,” he stammered, avoiding her eyes again. 

“All right. Will I see you later?” she pressed, reaching without thinking to take hold of his paw in hope he would agree to her new request. Beast glanced down at their joined hands and looked back at her to nod. “Good,” she said with a satisfied nod and waved as she continued towards the door, doing her best not to limp more than she could help, certain she felt his eyes still on her.

She made her way to the stables, thinking that Philippe might welcome a walk around the grounds as well. He bobbed his head when she came into view, clearly excited to see her, but stood still while she bucked the bridle on.

As she led him out, the massive horse walking gently beside her, she wondered about her new desire to be with Beast. Another wave of guilt picked at her mind as she thought about her father; Beast had, after all, locked him in the dungeons before ripping she and her father apart. Watching Beast drag Papa away would haunt her nightmares for years to come.

And another part of her worried if she wasn’t suffering from some side effect of being rescued the way she was. Plenty of silly girls in fairy tales fawned over the men who saved them from towers and dragons and it made Belle angry to think that she might be one of them. But Beast truly had become so different in just a few short days. Barely a shadow of that animal remained in his gentle blue eyes; surely some sort of tentative friendship with him would be justifiable.

Philippe’s nose nudged her shoulder gently as if sensing her confusion. She laughed and reached up to pet his velvety nose. For the days she was gone, he didn’t seem any worse for the wear. Whatever servants were in charge of the stables knew their job well. She didn’t see anyone (anything?) when she went in that morning, but she would like to find someone to thank for taking care of her horse.

“Sultan, Sultan you bad dog, come back!” a voice she didn’t recognize echoed over the snow-covered ground and she turned in time to see the playful pup-footstool bounding through the powder towards her, barking from his embroidered mouth and wagging his tassel tail. Philippe flinched, but didn’t run, and Belle was free to release his bridle to carefully kneel down and greet Sultan. She scratched the side of his strange little head, making his back leg wiggle, which in turn made her laugh.

Out of the corner of her eye, Belle though she saw a large shadow moving up on the castle wall. But when she turned to look, she only saw Lumiere and Cogsworth standing on the ledge of a balcony above her head. She waved cheerfully at them and grinned as they waved in return, Lumiere practically jumping in his enthusiasm. She giggled and continued her walk, glad the servants had grown to like her so much. They had been kind to her from the moment she arrived and she was grateful for their companionship. If only she could get Beast to talk to her, her stay here would be much more agreeable.

After another hour of slow, careful walking, Sultan prancing around her in circles as she went, her stomach began to growl and, truth be told, her leg was starting to ache again. So she put Philippe back in his stall (still unable to find anyone to thank for his care) and followed Sultan back inside the castle. After she had lunch, perhaps she might try to seek out Beast. Maybe she could read Le Morte d’Arthur to him as she sometimes read to Papa at home; it was one of her favorites and she was overjoyed when Mrs. Potts had brought her a copy to read. She was already nearly halfway through though she only began it a few days ago, but she would be willing to start over if Beast agreed to let her read it to him. She smiled at the idea and hoped that he didn’t mind that she liked to read.

Chapter Text

“Did you enjoy your walk, dearie?” Madame Armoire asked as Belle closed her bedroom door behind her, her cheeks still flushed from the cold air. 

“I did,” she replied, hiding a wince as her leg twinged. It had occurred to her as she settled in for her meal that the stitches she had used must not have been adequately sanitary and she was glad she had not needed to use them on Beast’s wounds. Doubtless he would have become as ill as she had. Though her stomach gave a comfortable twinge at the idea of sitting by his bedside as he had done for her. 

She made her way to the small table arranged by the window and eased into the waiting chair. “It’s so beautiful out there with the snow nearly untouched,” she continued. “It was good to get some fresh air after being cooped up in here.” At her words, Madame Armoire’s wide wooden face screwed up as she threatened to cry again. Oh dear, Belle sighed to herself.

“Madame,” she started, angling her head to try and catch her eye. “I know you feel badly about what happened that night. But it is not your fault. There wasn’t much you could have done if you had woken. I was too ill and scared to have done anything else anyway. Please, please don’t feel guilty about it.” If Belle thought her arms would have reached, she would have tried to embrace the wardrobe, but she had to settle with closing the short distance between them and putting a kind hand on her shoulder. 

“My dear, you are so sweet!” Madame Armoire exclaimed with a sob. “I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but I am so grateful you’re not mad!”

“Of course not,” Belle assured her, smiling at the wardrobe’s self-imposed drama.

A soft knock on the door drew her attention and the door opened slowly to reveal Mrs. Potts with her tea cart laden with Belle’s lunch. She greeted the teapot, but was surprised to see Lumiere hop in after her.

“Bonjour, ma cherie! It is good to see you looking so well!” Lumiere exclaimed with a wide smile as poor Madame Armoire sniffed behind her.

“Thank you, Lumiere. It’s because of all of you,” Belle said with a smile, always amused by Lumiere’s persistent cheerfulness. 

“And the Master,” Mrs. Potts put in.

“And the Master,” Belle agreed easily. 

“Speaking of him,” Lumiere said and Belle caught his mischievous grin, “he has requested that you come join him when you have finished your meal by the—in the south passage.”

“Why didn’t he just come ask me?”

“He and Cogsworth are seeing to some details, that’s all,” Mrs. Potts said in way of an explanation. Belle cocked one eyebrow at them; they were both acting rather suspicious, but before she could get much out of them, Lumiere bowed and hopped away and Mrs. Potts avoided her eye by directing her lunch tray onto the small table by the window.

“Well, if you’re determined to keep the secret, I won’t spoil it by asking too many questions,” Belle decided, taking her seat again, glad of the excuse to rest a little longer before meeting Beast, however intriguing this mystery was.

“You’ll find out soon enough, my dear. Eat up and get your strength back. I daresay you overdid it on your walk this morning. You’re all flushed.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potts,” Belle said, not admitting to anything.

Belle ate quickly, her curiosity peaking as the ache in her leg eased. Mrs. Potts remained with her, the three of them chatting lightly as Belle ate.

Do they eat? Belle wondered to herself but felt it might be too rude to ask. Madame Armoire never showed the slightest interest in it; someone as vocal as her would have complained of hunger at least once or twice.

“All right, I’m done. Now may I find out what the secret is?” she said, teasing good-naturedly as she set down her fork and knife. 

“Follow me, love,” Mrs. Potts said, acknowledging her tease with a knowing smile and hopped down from her tea cart. Belle opened the door and together they made their way down the hall, Mrs. Potts setting a slow pace for which Belle was grateful. She was excited about what Beast had in store and might have pushed her leg too much had Mrs. Potts not slowed her down. 

“Nearly there,” Mrs. Potts said as they turned down a hall Belle had not been to before. As they did, three pairs of mops and buckets hopped passed them.

“What’s going on?” Belle couldn’t help but ask. She had seen many objects move throughout the castle during her stay here, but never such serious cleaning supplies. What had they been cleaning so diligently that required several mops? But Mrs. Potts ignored her question and instead turned one last corner, revealing Beast standing before a pair of large doors in the middle of a large hallway. 

“You came,” he said, clearly surprised to see her despite the fact that he had invited her.

“Well, Mrs. Potts and Lumiere were being so cryptic, I couldn’t help but want to see what was going on,” she replied with a smile as she drew closer. “Will you tell me what’s happening?”

“Thank you for bringing her,” he said to Mrs. Potts, dismissing her along with Lumiere and Cogsworth who had been standing with him. Belle couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous as the three kind servants made their way back down the hall, leaving her alone with Beast. She looked back at his hulking form, reminding herself that she had been alone with him before, albeit she was unconscious most of the time.

“What’s going on?” she repeated, trying to be more curious than nervous. 

“Belle, there’s something that I want to show you,” he said, his deep voice rumbling gently. And, unless Belle was very much mistaken, he seemed rather excited about this ‘something.’ He turned to open the door behind him, but paused and turned back to her.

“But first, you have to close her eyes.” Belle raised a skeptical eyebrow, wondering why on earth he would want her to do that. As if to answer her unasked question he added, “It’s a surprise.”

Finding that her curiosity about what lay behind those doors overwhelmed any fear she felt, she did as he asked. She heard the squeak of the doors opening and felt Beast’s massive paws gently take hold of her hands. She was startled by his touch, but did not flinch away. 

As her hands lay in his, she realized how very small she was compared to him; her entire hand filled only the tips of his fingers. Beast could hurt her so easily with his massive bulk and strength, but she felt more comfort than fear beside his warmth. She reflected that a few short days ago she would not have even allowed him to come near her, now here she was allowing him to lead her by the hand blindly into an unknown room. 

Her feet hesitated as she felt the floor change from the carpet that lay in the hall to hard tile that made her shoes click faintly, but Beast’s guidance never faltered.

“May I open them?” she asked, hearing her voice echo around what seemed to be a rather large room.

“No, no not yet,” he said. “Wait here,” he directed a moment later and Belle felt his hulking, warm presence leave her. She heard the sound of rustling fabric and a light glowed through her closed eyelids. It was a bit unnerving standing blindly in empty space, but if her other senses held true, she could smell the unmistakable scent of parchment. The familiar smell sent her heart beating excitedly and she felt as though she would burst with her curiosity.

“Now can I open them?” she asked again.

“All right. Now.”

Chapter Text

He watched eagerly as Belle’s eyes fluttered open and widen as she took in her surroundings. He held his breath and waited for her to say something about the massive library he had just presented to her. 

As he waited, he recalled just that morning when he watched her walk the grounds from a second floor balcony, unable to suppress the overwhelming joy he felt as seeing her well again. The pangs of guilt knowing he had helped cause her injury and illness still hurt him and he wanted so badly to make up for what he had done. It went beyond that, though. He had discovered that he wanted most of all to see her smile again. So when Lumiere had told him the interest Belle had shown when she was told the castle had a library, together with the memory of the book he found by Belle’s bed, he immediately decided that the library would be just a thing to provoke such a smile.

And now, he was not disappointed. Belle turned circles around herself, her wide eyes taking in the seemingly endless shelves that held thousands and thousands of books. He never had much interest in this room before, allowing it to fall under a layer of dust and neglect. So it was with great haste that he summoned every available servant to clean the massive room. He had even joined them, rearranging the inanimate furniture and dusting off some of the higher shelves. They had finished not a moment too soon, the last of the servants fleeing as he heard Belle’s soft footsteps approaching.

“Do you like it?” he asked eagerly, powerless to help the smile that spread across his face as he watched her take in the room.

“It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, seemingly unable to stop turning in circles to catch every detail.

“Then it’s yours.” Belle turned back to him at his words, her expression one of shock and joy.

“Thank you so much!” She stepped forward to reach for his massive paws and smiled gloriously at him, her eyes shining with what could be nothing less than pure joy. He had given her this happiness and his heart leapt at seeing her so elated. In this distance, he heard the library doors close and he suspected the servants had been watching them, but he didn’t care. He wanted nothing more than to stand like this forever, Belle’s hands in his own and her joy enveloping both of them in warmth.

“You can’t give me an entire library, though,” she said, glancing around the massive room once more while keeping hold of his paws. “It’s far too much!”

He grinned as he realized what was going on. At her words, he had begun to worry that she didn’t want to accept a gift from him because of who and what he was, but he saw now that she was worried about the extravagance of it.

“Belle, please accept it. This is a gift, don’t you like it?” He asked the question knowing what the answer was. Based on her reaction, how could she say anything against it?

“I—of course I do, but…are you sure?”

“This place needs someone to take care of it, and you need somewhere aside from your room to call your own. I’m sure,” he assured her. It was all she needed; she grinned and flew from his side to examine the shelves of the books more closely. He thought to leave her alone to explore, but he couldn’t bear to leave her side just yet. So he followed her at a distance, watching with amusement as she ran her hands along the books’ bindings. 

“You have so many books!” she exclaimed happily as she bent to read some of the titles. “I didn’t know there were this many in the entire world! How did you come by them all?”

“I—uh…” he wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t expected her to ask questions about his past and was suddenly worried how much he should reveal. “My mother built up the library,” he finally confessed.

“Your mother?” she repeated, stopping her search to glance at him curiously. “Then this is your own castle?”

“Yes,” he replied shortly, not entirely sure he liked the way the conversation was going. Belle looked as though she wanted to say more, but after a moment she closed her mouth and turned back to the shelves. He sighed with relief. 

“My mother liked to read, too,” she said conversationally as she browsed the shelves. “She used to read me fairy tales when I was very small. When I was old enough, I would read them to her as well, even when she…when she got sick.” Belle’s hand fell from where it had been caressing the binding of a book and her smile faded. Beast frowned at this, worried that his gift had upset her. 

“Belle?” He dared to reach carefully for her hand and felt her fingers close around his, as naturally as if they had done such a thing a thousand times before. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him with a sad sort of smile. “I just miss her sometimes, that’s all.”

“I understand,” he muttered, surprised to find himself recalling his own mother and her untimely death when he was a small boy. He hadn’t thought about her, or in fact any of his family, in some time.

“Come,” she said suddenly. “This place is far too exciting to ruin with the past. What’s up here?” Her sudden burst of energy sent her flying up one of the curved staircases. Surprised by this, Beast followed her as best he could, his bulk making it difficult to navigate the tight curve of the stairs. By the time he reached the top, Belle had a pile of books in her arms and a large grin on her face.

“I see you found something to read then,” he said and she responded with a giggle. He blinked in surprise; he wasn’t sure he had heard her laugh before. Not that he had given her any reason to, he reminded himself soberly.

“One or two. There’s still a couple more I want to take as well. Would you mind holding these?” Beast barely had time to extend his arms before he found them full of books.

“You’re going to read all of these?” he asked, shocked that anyone would even think about going through all those volumes. There had to be at least ten in his arms, and Belle was steadily picking out more.

“Not all at once,” she admitted. “But I like to keep a running pile to devour. In the village, the bookkeeper would set aside all the new books he got in because he knew I would just pick them out anyway. I’ll only take a few more, I promise.” Belle turned to examine the shelves again and he chuckled.

“They’re all yours. Take as many as you want,” he reminded her, his dourness replaced by amusement.

Minutes later, Belle turned with five or six books in her own arms and motioned that they should return to the main floor again. He followed her to the massive fireplace where Belle ignored the plush chairs and sat instead on the rug by the hearth, carefully depositing the books into a pile in front of her. He hesitated, unsure if he should join her or if he should merely give her the books and leave.

“I’ll need your help going through all of these,” she said, looking up at him from where she sat on the floor, her green dress fanned out around her. Needed no further invitation, overjoyed she had asked, he sent the books in his arms to join hers and sat across from Belle on the floor, the great pile of books between them.

“Uh, what should I do?” he asked uneasily, a little overwhelmed by the mass of volumes that lay before him.

“Well, have you read any of these?” Belle asked as she lay the books flat so she could see their titles. He did not need to look at the volumes to know he had never read them.

“No,” he replied simply, avoiding her eyes.

“All right, then you can hold up each book for me one by one to help me decide what order I should read them. It will be a little less overwhelming for me that way. If you want to, that is,” she asked hastily, tucking a stray hair away from her face. Instead of answering directly, he took up a blue book with gold print on the cover and held it up for Belle to examine. The book was tiny in his hands, but he made sure to keep the title visible for her. Belle contemplated the book for a moment.

“Canterbury Tales, that can wait,” she decided and took the book from him to start a pile to her right. 

Beast repeated this action several times over, allowing Belle to focus on each one individually and place it in whatever order she deemed best. He could find no order that was obvious to him, even as she read the titles aloud, but as long as she knew her own method, that’s what mattered. It cheered him up a bit to hear her confess several times that she had never heard of some of the books, only that their titles sounded intriguing. 

His mechanical action, picking up the book and handing it to her over and over, allowed him to concentrate on observing her, listening to her mutter, noticing the way her eyebrows furrowed while she thought. These little motions, these seemingly insignificant moments of her actions, were endearing to him.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, sharply pulling him from his thoughts and nearly making him drop the book. “King Arthur! I haven’t read this since I lived in the city!” She took the book from him and started flipping through the pages eagerly.

“I thought you lived in a village?” he asked, confused. Had she lied to him?

“I do. Papa and I moved there when I was sixteen. Before that we lived in Paris. I had a friend there who I would read for hours with. We would go on picnics or read in the parlor, switching off reading chapters with each other. This was the last book we read before I had to move. I let her keep it so she would remember me.” 

Belle paused and Beast was concerned she would lapse into an unhappy silence, but he needn’t have worried. She seemed too excited at the discovery of what seemed like an old friend. “I’m so glad I have the chance to read this again! I would beg the bookkeeper to order it for me, but he could never find it.”

“So that’s first on the list to read?” he asked, glad that Belle had again refused to be sorrowful at her memories. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to keep her memories close, but it made him uncomfortable that she remembered her past so fondly and yet so mournfully. He had little experience in comforting people and was sure he would make a mess of it if he had to try to soothe Belle, as much as he would wish to.

“Definitely,” she confirmed. “We still have a few to go through, though,” she said, glancing back down at the pile. “I’m glad you’re helping me do this. If you weren’t here I would probably start reading King Arthur and leave quite a mess on the floor.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, but shifted where he sat, realizing his foot had begun to fall asleep. He resolutely ignored it and picked up the next book for her while Belle lovingly placed King Arthur on the top of her pile.

When all the books had finally been piled to Belle’s liking, Beast could not help but sigh in relief and stood only to sit in the nearby chair to try and return circulation to his foot. It had taken nearly an hour to sort through all those books; Belle would keep changing her mind about the order or end up thumbing through unfamiliar novels or even some of her favorites. He was glad that she was enjoying herself, but he wished he made an excuse to move earlier.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, distracted from her books by his awkward attempts to get his foot back to normal. He paused, somehow unwilling to admit such a simple, silly thing had happened to him, but decided he would surrender his dignity just this once. 

“My foot fell asleep,” he admitted with a sheepish smile.

“That happens to me all the time. Try stomping it a couple of times. It will hurt a bit but it helps it go away faster, I think.” He did as she suggested though it felt like a thousand pins suddenly attacked his flesh. But it was short lived, and he could finally relax.

“Thank you,” he sighed when the sensation left. “Have you decided what to read first? Will it be King Arthur?” he motioned to the two neatly stacked pile of books beside her, each nearly reaching her shoulder as she sat on the rug. 

“I think so…” she said hesitantly, looking over her piles once more. “I think I might want to save that one after all. Perhaps I’ll reread some of Grimm’s fairy tales first.”

“I thought fairy tales were supposed to be happy. But a man named Grimm wrote them?”

“It was two writers, brothers actually. And I never thought of it like that before,” Belle giggled, hiding briefly behind her hand. “I suppose it is a bit ironic, though not all of them have happy endings. I don’t read those much, though. I prefer the ones that end well. at least as far as the fairy tales are concerned. I don’t mind if novels don’t end well as long as the story is beautiful. And of course history and philosophy books don’t have a story to end well or badly at all.”

Belle continued on her tangent of what stories she preferred and why while Beast simply sat and listened. He reflected that, before Belle had found a way to warm his heart, he might have simply gotten up and left her ramblings. But now, for reasons unknown to even him, he found her opinions interesting, at least enough to show her the courtesy of paying attention. Besides, the more she talked about her stories, the more beautiful she seemed to become. Belle was a beauty to begin with, it was true, but when she spoke of her books her face seemed to light up, giving her a kind of ethereal glow.

“What’s the matter?” he heard her ask and Beast realized he had been staring at her. “Oh, I’ve been talking to much, haven’t I? I’m sorry. Most people usually stop me long before now,” she said, a delicate blush creeping into her cheeks and she tucked a fallen piece of hair back into place almost shyly.

“Oh, no, that’s not it,” he hastened to explain, but stopped, unable to reveal what he had been truly thinking. “I—I just never heard anyone talk about books the way you do. It’s like they’re your friends instead of just words on pages.”

“Well, I guess that’s sort of true. Not many people like to be friends with a woman who reads, but the characters in the stories are more interesting than most people I’ve met anyway. Except for Clarice of course, my friend from Paris.”

“Because she liked to read, too,” he said sourly, figuring out a bit how Belle really worked. She read to keep interesting company because those around her were too illiterate and dull, so how could he assume to be part of that elite group? He, who could barely read and hadn’t experienced life beyond the castle in over ten years. He stood to leave before his anger could get the best of him. He should have known that he could never have won her over.

“Beast?” he heard her call to him, but he didn’t stop until he slammed the library door behind him. Lacking the strength to go any further, he leaned against the door hopelessly, feeling foolish that he had even imagined an intelligent girl like Belle could ever lower herself to befriend him.

Chapter Text

He felt himself falling through space, his stomach lurched as he reeled unexpectedly backwards. A small sound behind him alerted him to the fact that someone would be caught underneath him as he fell. Quickly, with a deftness that surprised even himself, he rolled enough to fling one arm around and catch hold of the person behind him and move them before he hit the unforgiving tiled floor.

A hard thud left him slightly dazed, so it was with confusion that he looked to his left to see that he had caught hold of Belle, her head resting safely on his arm.

“Are you all right?” he asked quickly, checking to make sure that no part of her had been caught under his bulk.

“I’m so sorry!” she cried instead, not answering his question. She pushed herself up to a sitting position but kept a hand on his arm, something that did not escape his notice. The small warmth of her hand on his fur made him blush.

“I had no idea you were leaning on the door,” she continued. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” he grunted, sitting up himself. “Are you all right?” he repeated.

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” she assured him quickly and he felt himself relax. “I am a bit confused, though. Why did you walk away just now? Did I do something to offend you?”

Her voice was clear with concern and he tried to ignore how sincere she sounded, his anger and despair still fresh in his heart.

“No,” he lied shortly, avoiding her gaze but couldn’t help glancing over to the fireplace where they had just spent the past hour together. He was bitter about his new understanding of Belle, how she scorned the company of anyone too uninteresting, preferring her books instead. It was his own fault, he supposed. He had supplied her with plenty of material to keep her company for years without ever having to talk to him again. Unable to be in her presence any longer, he shook off her hand and went to stand.

“Please,” Belle said, placing her hand on his arm again. He flinched against her touch, but stayed where he was. “Please tell me what I’ve done.”

She managed to catch his eye and he could see how concerned she was, how much she wanted to settle things between them. His heart ached at causing her this pain. Perhaps…perhaps he had misunderstood her.

He took several steadying breaths, unsure if he was brave enough to push past his anger and admit what he was thinking. Choosing as few words as possible, unsure of how much he would be able to say, he finally admitted. “I don’t read very well.”

He watched her eyes widen as understanding washed over her. “So you thought that I didn’t—” she broke off and he watched her auburn eyes flicker back and forth, seeming to review all that had happened between them that afternoon. “Beast, please forgive me!” she finally said, turning back to meet his eyes again. “That was a horrible thing for me to say to you. But please, let me explain what I really meant.”

Beast was startled by her reaction and her ability to connect all that had just happened with that one simple sentence. But he could see that her concern was real, so he nodded and motioned that she should speak.

“The people in my village are largely dull,” she confirmed, but continued speaking quickly before he had a chance to react. “But that’s not because they don’t read. It’s because they aren’t open to someone who enjoys it as I do. They scorned Papa and I, calling me odd for reading and Papa crazy for tinkering with his inventions. I did try to befriend them when I first moved there, but the moment I showed them a book or tried to talk to them about a story I had read, it was as if—as if I had some sort of disease. I didn’t mind talking about cattle and crops and the weather, but when it’s the only topic of conversation anyone has any interest in, well… It wasn’t long before hardly anyone spoke to me at all. 

“Many people in the city were like that, too. Granted, there were plenty of well-read people, but most of them were men in high-standing positions. Clarice was the only person I ever met who didn’t scorn me for reading, because she enjoyed reading herself.”

“But—” Beast began, but Belle interrupted him.

“It doesn’t matter that you say you can’t read very well. You have shown more interest in my love of reading in the past hour than most people have all my life. And when I said my stories were more interesting than anyone I met,” she tucked a stray piece of hair back into place and looked at him shyly, “I wasn’t including present company.”

“Oh,” he said quickly, feeling slightly ashamed of the way he had acted now. Had he simply admitted to Belle how he had felt, he could have avoided this embarrassment. “They called you odd?” he continued, surprised at this new information as much as any of it. How could anyone think this beautiful, intelligent creature odd?

Belle smiled, if a bit sadly, and nodded. “It’s a bit lonely being so different,” she said and her smile changed, softened, and her knowing eyes met his to seem to add silently ‘Isn’t it?’ 

Was it possible this lonely girl understood even a fraction of the misery he felt all those years cooped up, a beast in a castle? How his loneliness bore down upon him, unable to ease its hold because of what he was? 

He moved to stand again, suddenly uncomfortable beneath her understanding gaze, but he had no intention of running off again. Belle had not moved from her spot on the floor, making him recall her leg wound, and so he extended a massive paw down to her. She took it without hesitation and he effortlessly lifted her to her feet, her startled face as he pulled her to her feet so easily amused him.

“Will you come back in?” Belle asked when she was steady on her feet again, motioning to the fireplace where her new piles of books waited. Where her friends waited. 

“No,” he said and smiled when Belle opened her mouth to argue. “You have friends to visit with,” he continued before she could speak. “I will leave you alone now, but I—I would be glad if I could see you later.”

It wasn’t the most eloquently put, but he hoped to get the point across that he no longer left in anger.

“All right,” she agreed, her smile dazzling him. “I’ll see you later, then.”

He watched after her for a moment as she turned and walked back towards her books before closing the door once more, his heart beating quickly with excitement by Belle’s promise to see him again. He had nearly ruined his gift to Belle by storming out the way he had and he was still a little ashamed of himself for it. But Belle, with her kindness and understanding, had saved the moment, had shown him that he couldn’t count her among the scornful, selfish humans he had been used to.

“Remarkable,” he muttered to himself and strode down the hall, waiting for when he might see Belle once again.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Beast had given her the magnificent library. After exhausting herself the first two days exploring every last shelf, and another simply being overwhelmed at the sheer number of volumes that had been placed in her care, she was able to properly settle back into the waiting stack of books Beast had helped her sort. But even they were not able to distract her from Beast’s absence.

She sat on the cushioned bench by the window, gazing absently out onto the wintery grounds, Grimm’s fairy tales waiting in her lap. The conversation she and the Beast had after he presented her with the library was still fresh in her mind a week later; the guilt of unknowingly belitting him still held strong in her chest. Though she was glad of the chance to explain herself, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Beast had not entered the library since.

She was worried that meant he would resume his grumpy, harsh mood in light of her poorly chosen words despite their seeming to part that day on good terms, but she had nothing to fear. Though it was true he went nowhere near the library, he had sought her out several times that week. They had shared each dinner together, and a few breakfasts as well, chatting comfortably with each other and twice taking a stroll around the chilly, snow-covered gardens. 

As she sat in the library staring out the window, her frustrated frown turned into a thoughtful smile as she recalled the walk they had taken just last evening. 

They had eaten a pleasent dinner together, sitting across a small table that allowed comfortable conversation, but was still large enough to keep any splatter from Beast’s side reaching her own. She was surprised at how quickly she had gotten used to his…unorthodox style of eating. It created a bit of a mess, but she understood that his jaw and fangs were suited for little else. And he had been improving, with some gentle prodding on her end.

“I’d like to go for a walk,” she said when dinner was finished. “Would you like to join me?”

They had done such an activity earlier that week, but somehow that night felt different, more expectant somehow.

Beast’s ears perked up, giving away his excitement, and he agreed. Belle donned her cloak and together they strode out under a blanket of stars.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as they followed the shoveled pathways, the light from the castle sufficiently illuminating their way. “Your wound, I mean,” he clarified, clearing his throat.

“Almost healed, I think. I took the stitches out, so now it’s only a small cut. I’m afraid it will leave a bit of a scar, though.” Belle didn’t really mind the vivd scar that marked her leg, especially since it was unlikely anyone would ever see it, but she had heard that scars had a tendency to ache in the cold and rainy weather. While the wound was still too new to test that theory, she wasn’t eager to find out if it was true. 

“How’s your arm?” she said when he was silent.

“Fine,” he grunted shortly.

“May I look?” She stopped walking and reached for his arm, leaving a few inches of room between her hand and his to allow him to come to her if he desired. He obliged her, pushing up his sleeve and placing his forearm gently in her hands. 

She brushed through his fur to see the flesh beneath and was pleased to note that his wounds had closed completely and the fur had grown over it neatly, hiding any scars that might have formed. 

“You healed nicely,” she said and ran her hand over the fur on his arm so it lay smoothly. His fur was silky and warm despite the chilly air and she found it difficult to take her hand away.

“Seems you’re better at healing others than you are yourself,” he grunted again, but she heard a lightness in his voice that suggested he was teasing her.

“I shall have to take notes from you,” she replied merrily, thinking of how carefully he had tended to her while she was ill. Belle lifted her head to look at him, craning her neck back further when she realized how close they were. Beast looked as though he wanted to say something in reply, but he seemed to have thought better of it and only sighed, his warm breath washing pleasantly over face and causing her to shiver inexplicably. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, noticing her shiver. She nodded, unable to explain why his warmth was truly the cause.

“Let’s go inside,” he suggested and turned back the way he had come. He paused mid-step, however, and turned back to her to hesitantly offer his arm. Surprised at this courteous action, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her inside.

Belle came back to herself in the library, her hand caressing the book in front of her as she remembered that somehow alarming interaction. She couldn’t quite place what it was, but something between them had changed after he had rescued her from the wolves, after he had cared for her at her bedside. 

He was so gentle now, so eager to see to her comfort and happiness. Though he still had bouts of his flaring temper, they were far fewer than before and short lived.

Giving up on the book as impossible, she left the library and walked the halls restlessly, unsure where she went but too distracted to care.

“Hi, Belle!” a small, friendly voice broke through her thoughts.

“Hello, Chip,” she replied, smiling and kneeling down to be closer to the adorable little teacup. The other teacups were still too shy to talk to her, but she was glad of Chip’s persistent joy and forwardness. “What’s new today?”

“Nothin’ much, I guess,” he said slowly, trying to remember his day. “Mamma gave me a bath, of course,” he grumbled. “Oh, and the Master was looking for you earlier. Mamma said she’d go look for you, but he said not to bother you. Am I bothering you?”

“Not at all,” she insisted with a gentle laugh. “But do you remember why the Master was looking for me?”

“Nope, sorry! It was awhile ago now, so I don’t know if he is still looking for you. Belle, do you like the Master?” he asked, catching her off guard.

“I—well, I barely know him. He’s very secretive,” she added, having a sudden thought. “Is there anything you think I should know about him?”

“Well, he’s kinda—”

“Chip, there you are!” Mrs. Potts called as she hopped down the hall towards them. Belle inwardly sighed, wishing that Mrs. Potts had held off just one more minute. The servants were so unwilling to talk about the castle, about their history, always changing the subject whenever she brought up the enchantment or their past. The castle was enshrouded in mystery, and Chip’s innocence might have helped provide her with some key.

“Belle, dear I believe the Master was looking for you earlier. He asked me not to disturb you, but I saw him just now and he asked after you again.”

“Do you know where he is?” she asked, hoping nothing was amiss that made him seek her out so adamantly.

“Last I saw, he was headed towards the library,” she said and Belle laughed at herself having come all this way just to have to turn around again.

“Thank you,” was all she said to Mrs. Potts’ confused look before bidding them goodbye and heading back the way she had come. 

Sure enough, as she approached the library’s doors she heard the now-familiar thump of Beast’s heavy footsteps. 

“Oh!” he grunted in surprise at seeing her as he appeared around the corner, meeting nearly in the middle by the library doors once more.

“Mrs. Potts and Chip said you were looking for me,” she prodded, trying to get him to say something.

“That was hours ago,” he growled and Belle sensed his temper starting to rise.

“You could have come found me herself,” she reminded him gently. “But you’ve found me now, so what do you need?”

“I—uh, mostly I just wanted to apologize,” he stammered, his paws opening and closing in quick succession, and Belle realized he was nervous in front of her.

“For what?” Belle couldn’t think of anything he need apologize for. Not recently, anyway.

“For, uh…being a bit too—too forward last night. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, and that includes being so near something like me. It can’t be comfortable for you.”

Belle frowned slightly as she realized that Beast had thought about their previous night’s walk in a far more negative light than she had.

“Oh,” was all she could say. How could she convince him that he was not repulsive to her as he apparently assumed? And, above all, convince him that he was not a ‘thing.’ Perhaps instead of saying something that might embarrass both of them, she could do something instead.

“Would you like to join me?” she said simply, motioning to the library doors beside them. “I was thinking about starting King Arthur, perhaps I could read it to you?”

“All right,” he agreed readily and started towards the doors. Belle stood her ground and cleared her throat, causing him to turn back to her.

“Aren’t you going to offer me your arm?” she asked innocently. The distance between where she stood and the chairs by the fireplace was hardly enough to merit such an action, but she hoped it would do the trick to ease his mind. 

Beast paused for several heartbeats before walking back to where she stood and extending his arm towards her. Again, she placed her hand on his arm and smiled inwardly at Beast’s open grin.

As they walked arm in arm towards the waiting fireplace, Belle realized something very important: she was no longer a prisoner. 

If she had asked him, this gentle Beast would have let her go. But she had given her word that she would stay. And, if truth be told, she was intrigued by how he seemed to be changing. 

Chapter Text

She wanted to be near him, he elated to himself as he walked with her towards the library’s chairs. He had spent a sleepless night tormenting himself by playing over the night in his head, thinking of a thousand possible ways he had ruined everything by standing so close to her, by suggesting with his impulsive gesture that she touch him. But that worry had been for nothing.

He sat in the armchair across from her, the fireplace crackling merrily to his left, and watched as she sifted through her pile of books for the right one. Beast was a bit unsure about having to sit for the entire length of a book. What if he became restless, or hungry or thirsty? Would it be rude to call for Mrs. Potts for a drink in the middle of the story? And what if he hated the book? He had very little frame of reference for this sort of thing; the last book anyone had read to him was a story book when he was a small boy and no one minded if he dozed off in the middle of it. 

But when Belle began to read, his fears melted away as he felt himself sinking into the tale. Her words flowed easily and soon they transformed into images in his mind. He watched as the boy named Arthur went through his adventures with a wizard named Merlin. Though at first he made uncomfortable connections to his own past, being turned into a beast by the enchantress as Arthur was turned into a fish and a bird by Merlin, the story’s adventures soon left his own problems faded in the distance.

“Knowing not that his was indeed the legendary sword called Excalibur,” Belle read, “Arthur tried to pull it from the stone. He tried once, but to no avail. He tried a second time but still could not pull it out. Then, for the third time, Arthur drew forth the sword and—”

“So that must mean he’s the king!” Beast exclaimed, nearly rising in his chair in anticipation.

“Wait and see,” Belle said with a giggle. Beast realized that, for the first time in years, he had forgotten about his own cursed life, forgot his misery and impending doom in light of this story.

“I never knew books could do that,” he confessed softly, wondering at his own reaction. 

“Do what?” Belle asked, putting down the book to look at him with real curiosity. 

“Take me away from this place. To make me forget for a little while.”

“Forget what?” she pressed gently.

“Who I—what I am,” he corrected, spreading his hands to motion to his beastly form. To his surprise, Belle sighed and shook her beautiful head.

“I wish you wouldn’t say that about yourself. You are more of a who than many people I know,” she said sternly, disapproving of what he said. “There’s a goodness in you I don’t think you realize is there. In the town where I come from, there’s a man…Gaston.”

Beast felt his eyebrows knit together at the mention of another man’s name. Was this a beau of hers? How could she mention another man in front of him? Yet something in her tone suggested that this Gaston might not be all that desirable to her. 

He recalled when Belle had been ill and was having a nightmare; she called the name Gaston with clear terror, begging Beast to save her from him. No, this Gaston character was definitely not a beau.

“He’s strong, admired by all, and admittedly one of the most handsome men in the village,” she continued with a clear note of distain. “But he has no humanity, no sense of joy but what he gives himself through his admirers. He cares for nothing and no one but himself. If anyone could be considered a what, as you put it, it’s him.”

Beast tried to absorb what she was saying, what it mean. Could it be true that this beautiful woman before him no longer saw him as a monster? Yes, she could stand to be in his presence for days now, even tolerated his touch, but that he might have a soul to her? He could think of nothing to say to that, admittedly overwhelmed by this new information. So he merely smiled in what he hoped was a grateful manner. Belle smiled in return and turned back to the book. 

“For the third time, Arthur drew for the sword, and there arose from the people a great shout: Arthur is king!”

“Told you so,” he said proudly, leaning towards her to emphasize his point. She smiled widely at him and his heart fluttered.

______

Their time in the library passed nearly unnoticed as Belle read King Arthur to Beast. She was overjoyed to be revisiting the story that had such a marked point in her life. It was the last book she had read with her dear friend, Clarice; as she read it again now, she found herself recalling those endless hours they had spent reading to each other. Sometimes, when the story was particularly enchanting, Papa had to remind them to stop and come to dinner. So when Cogsworth strode into the library announcing that dinner was served, she couldn’t help but laugh.

Beast looked at her curiously and she tried to explain.

“I always seem to forget that I’m hungry when I’m reading a good book,” she confessed. As if on cue, her stomach gave a less than subtle rumble.

“I forgot too,” he admitted, his surprised smile warming her heart. She was so glad he was enjoying the book as much as she was. Belle had been uncertain he would be willing to sit and listen to her read for so long, or at all, but his excited outbursts more than proved he was enjoying himself.

“Shall we continue this tomorrow?” she asked, placing a ribbon in between the pages to mark where they had left off. Beast nodded and quickly agreed.

“But for now, we eat,” he said, leaping to his feet with a boyish energy and offering her his arm once more. She took it, settling beside him with a small hop to match his energy, smiling up at him, and he chuckled, succeeding in only making her grin wider.

Chapter Text

“When Guinevere heard that Arthur was slain,” Belle read the following day, Beast once again listening to her. “She stole away to a convent, and no one could ever make her smile again. The end,” she sighed and slowly closed the book, unable to help the small tear that formed at the corner of her eye. Poor Guinevere, she thought miserably.

“What a beautiful story,” Beast breathed. Belle opened her eyes again, wiping the tear away as she smiled at him.

“I knew you would like it.” At least, she had hoped he would. 

“Do you want to start another one?” he asked, still sitting in the chair across from her, leaning on its arm as he eagerly listened to her. She couldn’t help but laugh at his position, like a boy asking for a sweet.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait a bit before starting a new book. It sounds a bit silly, but I like letting the story settle for a little while. It feels like I’m doing the characters an injustice by moving on to another story too quickly.” She knew it was silly and prepared to be laughed at, but Beast only nodded, looking slightly disappointed. 

“I wonder—” she started as Beast started to stand and stretch. He paused and turned to look at her again, his gentle, soft blue eyes giving her his full attention.

“I was wondering if there was anything you like to do. A hobby, I mean,” Belle swallowed nervously, still unsure if she should ask such a personal question of him, regardless of how friendly he had been recently.

“No,” he grunted, clearly trying to dispmiss her question, but that only made her want to press further.

‘There must be something,” she reasoned. “You spend all your time in the castle, isn’t there something you like to do to pass the time?”

“I—” he paused and took a breath as if to steady his nerves. “I used to play the piano,” he finally admitted and immediately busied himself with stoking the fire unnecessarily. 

“Used to?” she pushed gently, staying in her seat to avoid making him more uncomfortable than he already seemed. Rather than answering her directly, Beast turned back to her and spread his large paws towards her to examine. 

She stepped forward then, taking one paw in her hands. She brushed her hands over the fur of the back of his paw and down one finger to its claw. One finger was as thick as three of hers, far too large to pick out the keys of a piano, but his claws narrowed to a point as small as a human finger which might be better for playing. 

For good measure, she gently turned his hand over and traced his fingers over the soft pads on his palm where his fingers met his hand and the fur that continued onward over the rest of his palm. But she understood his point; his hands as they are now would be cumbersome for playing something as delicate as the piano. So how then had he learnt to play in the first place?

The answer was clear to Belle, even as it seemed impossible: Beast had once been human.

She had suspected such a thing since her first dinner at the castle. The enchanted objects, so desperate for something to do, were obviously longing for something that had been taken from them. They could easily have been human themselves until they ran afoul of whatever enchantment had them imprisoned.

But Beast had been harder to picture as a victim of the same enchantment, at least at first. His perpetural gruffness and anger made him seem too close to an animal to even hint at any true humanity. But now, as Belle looked into his beautiful, sorrowful eyes, she could see that he mouned the reminder of a past he could no longer relate to. A past where he had been human.

Belle recalled what Beast himself had said about his mother building the library. He confirmed that this castle was his own. Suddenly, Belle longed to examine the portrait she had seen in the West Wing; the torn canvas that held the image of a boy with blue eyes all at once seemed connected to this enchantment, to him.

It was clear that Beast had no intention of discussing his past, but she hated to see his sadness at the reminder he was no longer human.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, stroking the soft fur on his palm, “your claws are only a little bit thicker than my fingers. Have you ever tried to play with the tips of your claws?” 

Beast was silent, seeming to contemplate what she had just said.

“No,” he finally replied, his voice hesitant, not shutting out the idea yet. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Would you be willing to try?” Beast looked pained, as if she had just asked him to fly through the air or set himself on fire to please her.

“Very well,” he grunted and pulled his hand back a little too sharply. “This way.”

He stalked out of the library, leaving Belle to follow in his wake. She was a little frightened of what she had just asked him to do. It could end very badly if he did not give himself a chance. The fact that he was willing to try at all amazed her and she couldn’t help but be slightly, selfishly glad that he did so to try and please her.

He led her to a small room very near the West Wing. Though the room was tidy and well dusted, it had the musty atmosphere of being unused for a long time. The small room was almost entirely taken up by a beautiful grand piano, its dark wood glistening in the light from the hall. Belle immediately went to run her hands along its surface, but she noticed Beast did not give the instrument so much as a glance as he went to open the curtains that covered the one small window. Sunlight spilled into the room and Beast turned and closed the door.

“I’d rather not have the servants hear,” he explained as he did so. Belle nodded, but she felt a little uneasy at being in such a small room alone with Beast, with his temper so precarious. Beast took a seat on the bench in front of the instrument; it groaned a bit under his weight but stood strong.

“Are you sure this will work?” he asked uneasily, looking up at her with his eyes filled with near anguish.

“If you have the patience to let it,” she said gently. “You don’t need to try, if you don’t want to.”

“Do you know how to play?” he asked elusively, clearly trying to put off the moment where his claws would meet the ivory keys. 

“I never learned, no. Clarice could; I loved to listen to her play when we were tired of reading, but I was never clever enough to pick it up myself.” Belle supposed he would have liked some help reuiniting with the intstrument, but she had nothing to give him.

She watched as Beast gazed at the keys, staring at it as if it were a dangerous animal ready to strike. She realized in that moment what she had asked him to do; he was going to try and regain his humanity physically when he was just learning to do so emotionally. Belle knew that if he truly tried, his claws would be a perfect substitute for the slender fingers playing a piano called for, and then he would have another outlet for all the emotions he had bottled up. But those sharp appendages could just as easily tear the beautiful instrument apart, and her along with it in the close proximity of the room.

“Just keep it simple,” she suggested, hoping her sudden nerves did not reflect in her voice.

Beast nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the keys, and slowly lifted his paw to meet the keys. Belle held her breath and watched as he arched his fingers so the tips of his claws met the surface of the keys. 

The first hesitant note echoed around the small room, surprisingly in tune and quickly followed by several others in what Belle understood to be a scale, one note following the one beside it. She watched Beast’s expression lighten to one of mild surprise and brought his other paw up to join the first.

She closed her eyes as the individual notes became first a melody and then a recognizable song, melding into each other to create a beauty Belle had never encountered before in her life. It was as if the music had become part of her very soul, lifting her up into the stars and caressing her with its soft resonance.

A sour note brought her crashing back to earth and she opened her eyes, afraid how Beast might react to his small mistake.

“That was beautiful,” she sighed, realizing as she spoke that she was repeating Beast’s sentiment after they finished King Arthur. Beast said nothing, only looked at his paws in a way Belle could not decipher.

“Beast?” she said hesitantly, taking a step towards him. Instantly she realized it was a mistake to move. Beast jumped like a startled deer, his paws convulsively closing as if somehow ashamed of what he had just done. Before Belle could do anything, Beast stood and rushed out of the door in a whirl of his cloak. Belle slowly sunk to the bench Beast had so hasitly vacated, wondering what on earth just happened.

Chapter Text

He bolted from the piano room to the West Wing, dropping to all fours to reach his sanctuary all the faster. Once the door slammed behind him and his solitude was assured, he roared in agony, wishing he could rip off his paws as easily as he tore off that foolish shirt. The shreds of fabric floated down to the floor just as another petal from that infernal rose fluttered to the table’s surface.

“What have I done?” he moaned to himself, holding his head in his paws and falling to his knees. He had tried to please her, to do what she asked, but he could not deny the reality of the creature he was. Human hands that once flew easily over the keys of the piano now stumbled and suffered through every note with their animal clumsiness. How could she expect him to do something so…so human?

With a bout of fury, he swiped at the broken remains of an old wardrobe, sending wooden shards flying across the room. It did nothing to satisfy his anger, so he continued to strike any object that blocked his path, splintering wood and thunderously roaring like the animal he was until his rage had at last begun to subside.

Filled now only with shame, he sank to the floor amongst the new rubble he had created, wishing bitterly that this girl had never come to taunt him with dreams and then so mercilessly show him what he will never be again: human.

____

Belle sat in the piano room just down the hall from the West Wing and listened as Beast’s roars shook the walls around her. She wrapped her arms around herself in her own sorrow, ashamed that she had made him do something that made him so unhappy. He had given her everything since he had learned to be so kind, and she had done nothing but cause him pain. She didn’t understand why he felt such shame from the beauty he had just created, but she was determined to never ask such a thing from him again.

She stood slowly and ran her hand one last time over the instrument that so recently sent her dreams soaring at Beast’s hands. With a sigh, she closed the door behind her and retreated to her room.

“Hello, dearie,” Madame Armoire greeted her, but Belle could only summon a small smile. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“I asked Beast to do something I shouldn’t have,” she admitted, collapsing into the chair at the small table by the window. “I just wanted to know what he liked to do. He’s spent so much time doing what I like, I only wanted to return the favor. But it only made him angry and he ran from me. Again.”

“You know,” Madame Armoire began, “the Master’s not all that used to having women around. It could be that he got scared, intimidated by you even. In short, embarrassed by whatever it was he was doing.”

“Scared?” Belle repeated doubtfully. It was hard to picture the massive creature that fought off a pack of wolves frightened of anything, especially her. But then she remember the day he had presented the library to her, how he had twisted his paws together nervously while she took in his gift for the first time. What an odd turn of events. 

“Do you think I should go talk to him?”

“You might want to wait a bit and let that temper of his run out,” Madame Armoire suggested and Belle quickly agreed. She had been on the wrong end of his temper before and was not eager to relive the experience. 

Belle decided to go for a walk in the frozen gardens, out of the castle. Beast would most likely stay in the West Wing for now, but sometimes he wandered the halls. She didn’t want to chance running into him, neither did she want to stay cooped up in her room. Her only other destination would be the library, but she was too distracted to read.

A few hours later, though, the chill and an empty belly drew her back inside. She debated whether or not she should ask Beast to join her for dinner, swinging back and forth between asking and not, and finally deciding on trying.

She timidly approached the dark doors of his rooms, the massive goat-like creature that served as door handles stared at her as if daring her to approach them once again. The first and only time she had entered the West Wing, things had not gone so well. Cautiously, she pressed an ear against the door, but heard no crashing furniture or sinister growls. Gathering her courage, she knocked on the door and stepped back, ready for him to jump out at whoever dared to intrude on his solitude. But nothing happened.

Belle dared to knock again, a little louder this time, and jumped slightly when the door opened a crack.

“Belle?” she heard Beast say, but couldn’t make him out amongst the shadow. 

“I—I’m sorry if I’m bothering you,” she started, her strength growing at his mild-tempered greeting. “But I was getting a little hungry. I wanted to see if you would join me for dinner.”

“Not hungry,” he grumbled and the door started to close.

“Wait,” she said and unconsciously put out a hand to keep the door open, though her tiny strength would be no match for his should he truly want to keep her out. To her surprise though, the door remained open. 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me,” she asked, keeping her voice even and calm.

“I’m not angry with you. But I’d like to be alone. Please.”

Please? Belle was so shocked to hear the word come from him that she didn’t notice the door start to close. The soft click of the door fitting in its place recalled her attention and only then did she realize how desolate Beast sounded. 

She wanted nothing more than to burst in and demand what was wrong, why he was so unhappy, but his polite request still rang in her ears. Perhaps it was best to leave him alone.

Bemused, Belle started to walk back to her room, but she really was hungry, so instead she changed direction and headed to the kitchen. Perhaps Mrs. Potts would be there. If anyone would know what to do, it would be her.

Chapter Text

The kitchen was a large, bustling room. Servants were running and hopping about, tidying, cleaning, cooking. Everyone seemed to have something to do despite the fact that she and Beast were the only ones in the castle with them.

“Belle, what a lovely surprise!” Belle looked to the center island of countertop to find Mrs. Potts hopping towards her. Belle smiled and met her, taking a seat on one of the tall stools that waited by the counter.

“How are you, Mrs. Potts?” she asked, leaning one elbow on the counter and resting her chin in her hand.

“Hmm, a bit better than you, I should think. What’s wrong dearest?”

Belle couldn’t help herself; maybe it was her desperation to talk to someone, maybe it was Mrs. Potts’ motherly disposition, but Belle found herself telling her everything that transpired between her and Beast that afternoon. 

“He even said please,” she finished. “And meant it. Mrs. Potts, I don’t know what to do.” She buried her face in her hand, at a loss. She had thought Beast was getting better, was coming out of his shell, that they were maybe even becoming friends, but she had ruined it, perhaps forever.

“Now, now, it’s not as bad as all that. Though I can’t believe you got him to play.”

“It was beautiful,” Belle remembered, speaking into the palms of her hands.

“Why don’t I see if I can talk to him?” Mrs. Potts suggested.

“Would you?” Belle snapped her head up to look at the teapot. “I’m sure he would listen to you.”

“Well, we’ll see. Stay here, have something to eat. Cogsworth will look after you while I’m gone, won’t you, dear?”

“Splendid, splendid,” the head of the household said haughtily, ambling over from where he had been ordering some wine glasses around. Meanwhile, pots and spoons began whirling around the countertop, and almost before Belle could blink she had a lovely plate of food in front of her.

“There you are, a nice hot meal, just the thing to drive these melancholy thoughts away.” Belle smiled at him, but couldn’t muster much of an appetite after reliving her afternoon to Mrs. Potts. She picked up her fork, but only pushed the food around.

“I’ve never seen anyone able to break the Master’s mood before, but if anyone can, it’s Mrs. Potts,” he continued and Belle realized that he was trying to comfort her. 

“He’s not angry anymore. When I tried to talk to him just now, he seemed so sad, as if his whole world had collapsed.” She dropped the fork to the plate with a small clatter, the guilt she felt wrapping around her stomach and making it impossible to eat.

“I’m sure she’ll sort it out,” Cogsworth said sincerely, his rather pompous attitude forgotten, and walked forward to pat her shoulder. Belle smiled at him again and allowed him to coax her into taking a few bites of food.

Only when her plate was clear did Cogsworth seem satisfied, like a strict but kindly father looking after a disobedient child. But he worked himself up into a tizzy once again when Belle announced her wish to help clean up. 

“Guests do not do dishes!” he cried as Belle took her plate to the sink and began filling it with hot water. 

“Pots, come over here and I’ll give you a scrub,” she called over Cogsworth’s stammered protests. The empty pots hopped forward obediently and Belle rolled up her sleeves to get to work.

It felt good to do chores like this again. It actually helped her relax, to fiercely scrub dishes or yank up stubborn weeds or beat the dirt out of carpets. She felt some of her stress leave her shoulders as she worked, her worry worn down until it was hardly there at all. But when Mrs. Potts came back into the kitchen, calling her name, Belle turned quickly, drying her hands on a dishtowel, eager to find out what happened.

“Is he angry with me?” she asked before Mrs. Potts could say a word.

“No, dearest. He’s a bit ashamed of himself, actually. You see, he hasn’t played since before…” Mrs. Potts trailed off as if unsure how to continue.

“Since he was human?” Belle suggested and heard the servants gasp around her. “I know he used to be. Why else would he have learned to play and then suddenly stop? His hands became paws. There’s still some details I can't quite get yet, but I’ve known for a little while now. Today just confirmed it for me. I won’t tell him I know,” she adied hastily, noticing the worried looks on everyone’s faces, even Mrs. Potts’. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to be reminded of that.”

“And we all thank you for that,” Mrs. Potts sighed. “It was a difficult time while he adjusted to being what he is now. I think being reminded of what he used to be was too painful for him.”

”There are a thousand questions I want to ask, ‘why’ and ‘how’ first on the list...” she paused and took in the tight expressions of everyone within earshot. “But I won’t. Not now, anyway. And I won’t ask him to play the piano again,” Belle promised easily. “Do you think he’ll come out of his room soon, though?”

“It’s hard to say. He doesn’t want to displease you, you know. But he has suffered such a heartache today. Best give him a little time.”

_____

Belle waited two days for Beast to emerge from hiding. Two days of eating alone, two days spent reading by herself in the library, two days of walking the grounds without his warm presence beside her. She couldn’t help the loneliness that started to creep into her heart without him, wrapping around the guilt she still felt though Mrs. Potts insisted she shouldn’t.

Belle wondered how Beast had endured possibly years as she spent the past two days. She never really minded being alone; goodness knows that after she left Paris there were so few people who would talk to her, let alone befriend her. Books had always been enough company for her during those lonely times, and Papa of course. But now her books only filled part of the void Beast had left.

There had been several times during those two days were Belle was sorely tempted to march into the West Wing and demand that he stop being so foolish. But she remembered to keep her own temper and simply waited for Beast to come out by himself. It was her fault he was hiding, after all. That thought cooled her temper faster than anything.

As the sun set outside the library’s large windows that second day, Belle began to wonder if Beast would ever reemerge. Had she done enough harm to keep him away for good? Her heart sunk as she realized he might never forgive her, never give her the chance to fully apologize for the wrong she had done to him.

She watched the sky turn pink and then a deep lavender, absentmindedly flipping the pages of a book rapidly over her thumb and wondered if Beast would forgive her for forcing him to remember his humanity.

“Mademoiselle?” Lumiere’s voice interrupted her sorrowful thoughts. She looked down and smiled at the candelabra though her thoughts were still with Beast. “Dinner is ready,” he announced and Belle thought he looked too excited for such a simple announcement.

“What’s going on?” she asked, spinning on the window seat so her feet touched the floor. 

“Why nothing, ma cherie,” Lumiere insisted. “We are all simply worried about your lack of appetite recently.” Belle nodded, but suspected that the servants were up to something.

Her answer came as she stepped into the small dining room she and Beast had preferred to use since they had started dining together. The dining hall for her first dinner at the castle that was nearest the kitchen was far too large to have a comfortable meal, so Belle had almost immediately insisted on using this smaller, more friendly room.

As Belle stepped into the room, she noticed Beast sitting at the table in his usual chair. She was so shocked to see him there, as if the past few days had not happened, she couldn’t help the little ‘oh!’ of surprise that escaped her. The noise made Beast turn and he immediately stood when he saw her.

“Hello,” she said simply, so eager to apologize to him and yet unsure now if she should even mention what had happened.

“Hello,” he replied, looking as uncertain as she felt. He rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet before finally stepping towards her and lifting his downcast eyes to meet hers. Belle met his gaze steadily, trying to find a similarity between Beast’s blue eyes and those of the boy in the portrait in the West Wing. Could they be the same person?

“Are you hungry?” he gestured to the table laden with steaming plates.

“Very,” she replied and followed his lead to her seat. “Mmm, roast beef,” she sighed happily.

“You, uh…you said it was your favorite,” Beast muttered.

“It is, thank you.” Belle grinned at him, flattered that he remembered what her favorite dish was and cared enough to make sure it was served the night he reappeared. She decided to interpret it as a peace offering.

As the dishes served themselves, she watched as Beast avoided eye contact with her, looking everywhere but at her. Belle decided she had to say something to let him know everything was all right. That she, too, was ashamed of what had happened between them and was sorry for it.

“I, um…It was very lonely these past couple of days,” she finally said, glancing up at him from her plate.

“Really?” Beast said and Belle was somewhat pleased to hear a note of surprise in his voice.

“I even found myself reading out loud to thin air once or twice. I missed you,” she dared to say it plainly, the words felt bold, as if she were saying something much more important.

“I’d like to hear another story,” he said and added, almost whispered, the next part: “I missed you too.” He looked up and finally met her eyes. Belle knew then that Beast had forgiven her and, based on his careful smile, everything was all right between them again.

Chapter Text

“Oh look, it snowed last night!” Belle exclaimed when she rose the next morning. The grounds outside her window had been covered in a fresh blanket of white, glistening invitingly in the morning sun. Belle quickly donned a pink dress Madame Armoire produced with three-quarter length sleeves but thick material suitable for the cold. A matching fur-lined cloak would ensure she would be warm enough when she ventured outside.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Madam Armoire asked before Belle could leave. “Breakfast,” she reminded her in response to Belle’s confused look.

“Oh, yes of course.” Belle removed her cloak but draped it over her arm, too impatient to have to fetch it later on before venturing into the sparkling white scene.

As she went in search of breakfast, she hoped she would run into Beast. Now that they were on good terms again after that terrible incident with the piano, she was eager for the chance to be able to spend some of that lost time with him.

____

Despite the success of last night’s dinner, Beast was terrified that he had ruined everything with Belle by hiding from her the way he had. He felt badly about rushing away, but his embarrassment was too much to bear at the time to do anything else.

Fortunately, Mrs. Potts had come to speak with him the night of the incident, apparently at Belle’s request, to ease his torment. Mrs. Potts helped him understand that Belle had not meant any harm by what she had done, she simply didn’t realize what such a thing meant for him. He tried so hard to please Belle, but asking him to recover that much of his long-forgotten humanity was too much.

Dinner last night had done everything Mrs. Potts said it would. Belle had forgiven him, correctly interpreting the dinner for the apology it was. And he had not even had to mention the horrible episode. He grinned, remembering her words at dinner. She had missed him. The very idea sent his head spinning with joy he did not deserve.

Beast ventured downstairs that morning, wondering if he might be able to convince Belle to have breakfast with him. He was feeling a bit daring and decided to wear a rather formal green jacket with gold trim, abandoning his usual cloak for the first time in years.

He entered the small dining room Belle preferred and found that she was there waiting for him. As usual, the sight of her gentle beauty stunned him for a few moments. He couldn’t help but notice how her new pink dress set off the roses in her delicate cheeks beautifully.

“Good morning,” he greeted her as she sat opposite her at the table.

“Good morning,” she replied cheerfully. “Did you see it snowed last night?”

“Oh, I…no I didn’t,” he admitted. How could he not have bothered to even look out a window?

“I was wondering if you would like to go for a walk with me after breakfast? It’s so beautiful I just couldn’t stay inside.”

Belle seemed more excited than necessary about simple frozen water, but Beast found he was more than happy to go explore the new snow with her. 

The dishes served them porridge with sugar and cream. Beast sniffed eagerly at it and, as soon as the dishes stopped moving about, he dove into the delicious warmth.

A small gasp from across the table halted his eating and he realized what a mess he was making of himself. And he had been practicing table manners, too. Embarrassed, he looked over at Belle, but she was looking out the window. At a loss of what to do, he noticed Chip scoot a spoon towards his paw. Hesitantly, he took the tiny object and tried to feed himself with it, despite the fact he was never been able to wield one before. 

It was useless. His jaw was not suited to using it. He put it down and stared at the porridge, at a loss. When he chanced a look at Belle, however, he noticed that she was now holding her bowl in her hands, daintily sipping from it. Following her lead, Beast picked up his own bowl and took a sip himself. Much better. Belle caught his eye and they silently toasted each other with their bowls. 

“I’ll, uh…go change before we go outside,” he said when they finished eating, hoping Belle might wait for him.

“I’ll be by the main door when you’re ready,” she replied and Beast was amazed at how well she had been able to read him. Seeking her company was still so new to him he wasn’t entirely sure what he should and shouldn’t say.

He ran upstairs and changed quickly into a soft linen shirt and his usual dark cloak before rushing back down to meet Belle. While she had waited for him, she had donned a beautiful red cloak with white fur that lined the edges. As she pulled the hood up, he couldn’t help but notice how beautifully the white fur framed her face.

“Well, come on,” she beckoned. “Before the snow melts!” He recognized her last remark as a joke and smiled as he joined her by the door.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked, noticing a small leather bag hanging from her wrist. 

“Some birdseed,” she replied. “I thought we might feed the birds while we were out. Spring must be not too far off now since there’s getting to be so many of them.”

Beast nodded and offered her his arm so they could walk outside together. He was overjoyed that she took his arm so readily it seemed nearly second-nature to them both. He knew she didn’t need it, knew that she was perfectly capable, but the small weight on his arm filled him with a warmth he had not thought possible.

When they reached a spot on the south end of the castle near a snow-covered tree, Belle opened her bag and began scattering seeds on the ground. He watched her do this curiously, wondering what might come of it. He had never fed birds before. No sooner had Belle begun to toss the seeds onto the snow than a few birds flew down to meet them, pecking at the seeds with their tiny beaks.

Before long, Belle abandoned the leather bag on the low wall nearby, pouring the remaining seed into a fold of her dress she held out in front of her. Beast watched, mesmerized, as the birds hopped happily in the snow eating up the seeds Belle gave them. A red and blue bird both caught hold of one seed at the same time and he heard Belle giggle as the two tiny creatures momentarily fought over it. Belle was clearly enjoying herself and Beast had to admit that the little things were rather amusing.

An idea struck him; if the birds were eating so readily from the cold snow, would they instead rather sit on his warm paws and eat?

“May I?” he asked, holding out his cupped paws towards Belle. She poured a handful of seed into his paws and he crouched down to be nearer the birds. Unsure how exactly it would work, he thrust his cupped paws out to the birds to show them the seeds, but they startled, flying a few feet away and ignored him. He tried once more, shuffling closer to them only to have them escape a little distance away again. He huffed in frustration.

“Here, try this,” Belle offered as she knelt beside him. She put the rest of the seed in his hands so she could crouch down in the snow next to him. Holding onto him with one hand for balance, with the other she took a small handful of seed and sprinkled it in the snow in front of them, catching the attention of a blue bird nearby. 

The bird pecked thoughtfully at the seed in the snow before noticing the pile of it in his paws. Eagerly and without any sign of fear, the bird willingly hopped onto the seed Beast held. He could not help but grin triumphantly at Belle, amazed at what they had accomplished. Their eyes met and Beast could see how happy she was; it glistened in her eyes like tiny stars and he couldn’t help but wonder if that joy wasn’t partially because of him.

He redirected his gaze to the tiny little creature sitting so trustfully in his massive paws. It was curious that something so small would be willing to be so close to a creature like him who could easily crush it. He would never do such a horrible thing, of course, but the bird did not know that.

As the trusting bird hopped around his cupped paws, he couldn’t help but steal another glance at Belle. She had stayed by his side for a moment, watching the bird with him, before putting a hand out for a bird that had begun to fly down towards them. Beast watched in awe as a bird landed right on her finger as if she had called for it. 

As she stood to send it off again, using his arm as support to stand, he watched her go and tried to suppress the hunger he felt to be near her. He realized then that Belle had never looked at him with so much happiness as she had moments ago. It was a different sort of joy than he had seen before. Even when he had given her the library, it was obvious that her joy had been for the room itself. But now he noticed a subtle difference that went beyond her surroundings. Could it be she was happy simply with him? He dared to believe such a thing were possible.

Chapter Text

Belle caught Beast watching her as she sent the little bird back to the air. She smiled at him, but quickly dodged behind the tree, holding one hand over her suddenly wildly beating heart. She had never seen him look at her in such a way, so curiously and so longingly. Could it be possible that he had grown to care for her?

She twisted her hands together; the very thought of such a thing was alarming, but also a bit thrilling. Beast, who had been so cruel and heartless just a few weeks ago, had proven himself to be so gentle and kind, capable of a tenderness she had not thought possible. True, he was not the Prince Charming of her fairy tales, but there was something in him she hadn’t seen before. Their friendship had been strengthening, it was true, but was it becoming more?

She pulled her hood down to ease the warmth and tucked a fallen piece of hair back into place. Did she want their friendship to be more?

With a deep breath to steady herself, she peeked out from behind the tree although she wasn’t entirely sure she could withstand another such look from Beast. Fortunately he was a bit preoccupied with dozens of birds that had landed on him, all eager for the seeds in his paws. She giggled at the sight, the sound sending the birds flying back into the air.

____

The birds flew into the air, their many wings briefly sending his fur stirring in the small breeze they created. When they were all safely away, he looked to Belle, excited to tell her what had just happened, amazed that so many birds had trusted him enough to choose him as their perch. Instead, he was abruptly met with a face full of snow. Surprised, he shook the snow away from his eyes to see Belle laughing behind her hands.

So, she wanted to play, did she? That was one thing Belle wouldn’t have to show him how to do. With a sly grin, he bent and gathered a large armful of snow, intending to hit the tree she stood by and let the snow fall on her from above. 

As he raised the massive snowball over his head to throw, he was met with a second snowball to his face. Startled, he overbalanced and fell, his own snowball falling down on top of him. Belle laughed again, the sound like sweet chimes, and he was provoked into a chuckle of his own. A playful growl escaped him and he got up to chase her, unsure what he would do if he caught her, but enjoying the sport all the same.

She dodged behind the tree and he followed her laughter only to be hit a third time with a ball of snow. He bent quickly to make a small snowball of his own and this time managed to hit Belle’s shoulder, causing her to gasp and break into another round of giggles. 

They chased each other around the tree, exchanging snowballs and breathless laughter until Belle collapsed into the snow, grinning widely. Beast joined her, plunking down in the snow and sending flakes into the air.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise at the wave of snow that suddenly found itself on her face and hair. 

“Sorry,” he apologized and started to brush the snow from her hair. He paused and realized he had not asked permission to touch her, but judging by her smile she didn’t seem to mind.

“That was fun,” she said as he brushed the last of the snow away.

“You’ve got good aim,” he replied, finding far too much pleasure at seeing her delicately flushed face and mussed hair.

“Thank you,” she said but her words ended in a shiver.

“Let’s go inside,” he suggested and got to his feet, extending his paw down to Belle to help her up. They entered the castle through the nearest door, for though the birds might be welcoming spring, the winter winds refused to give up so easily. He tried to shelter her as best he could as they walked towards the castle, glad for once of his bulk.

Once inside, he took her cloak for her and hung it on the waiting hook on the wall beside the door. Belle knelt on the rug by the hearth and Beast moved to stoke the fire for her before she could do it herself. 

“If you hand me that book on the table, I’ll read for a while if you like,” Belle suggested when she had warmed her fingers. 

“Do you have books hiding in every room now?” he asked with humor as he took the book from the side table by the armchair. 

“Don’t be silly. I just happened to be reading in here yesterday.”

“I should’ve guessed,” he nodded and motioned for her to turn her beautiful, warm gaze to the book instead of him. She obligingly opened the book and began to read. She still shivered, so with her permission, he sidled closer to her in hopes that his fur and bulk would more quickly warm her. They sat like that together, Belle’s voice washing over them both as the fire crackled merrily before them, and Beast could not remember feeling more content than he was in that moment.

Chapter Text

As the weeks passed, she and Beast fell into a comfortable routine of shared meals, walks along the grounds, and reading in the library. As Belle became absorbed in the day to day activities with Beast, she slowly let the knowledge of the castle’s enchantment slide to the back of her mind. It no longer mattered that Beast had once been human and she no longer attempted to see him as such. Beast was only just that: her Beast.

Each morning she found herself looking forward to seeing him, not for the sake of her own loneliness, but because it was pleasant to be with him. She enjoyed his boyish behavior in playing in the snow or a particularly entertaining story. But she admired just as much his gentle seriousness when they were examining the stars in the night sky or Belle would tell him stories of her past. 

Beast never spoke of his own past, something Belle couldn’t blame him for after what happened with the piano, but she yearned to get to know him better.

He seemed so unsure of himself since he had abandoned his anger, but it was that uncertainty that Belle couldn’t help but find rather endearing. She found herself seeking him out more and more as the weeks passed, eager to discuss an idea she had or the chapter of the latest book she read. She avoided thinking about why she sought him out, especially since she caught his alarmingly warm gaze their first adventure playing in the snow together. She focused only on the simple fact that she enjoyed his company.

It seemed that he was growing more comfortable around her, too. There came a day when Belle began a new book to read to him, curled up on one end of the sofa that stood by the fireplace. Rather than sit in the armchair across from her or even lounging on the floor as he sometimes did, Beast sat at the other end of the sofa with her. There was enough space for an entire person to sit between them, but Belle couldn’t help the small smile at his shy action to be closer to her.

The gentle snowfall that had begun that morning had whipped up into quite the blizzard, but Belle carried on with the book. Beast seemed to relax more as she dove deeper into the story, allowing himself to sit more comfortably, one arm resting on the back of the sofa and one leg crossed over the other. She was glad he was so comfortable near her, but found that she envied his fur. Despite the merrily crackling fire, Belle could not subdue the goosebumps on her arms and was helpless against the occasional shiver that shot through her as the wind outside rattled the windows.

“Can I get you a blanket?” he offered when he noticed her discomfort.

“No, I have a better idea,” she replied and boldly slid across the sofa so the space between them disappeared. She curled up in the curve of his side, knees drawn up to her chest and her stocking feet tucked under the edge of his thigh to warm her freezing toes. 

“Is this all right?” she asked, looking up at him from her new position. They were so close she could feel his gentle breath on her face and see that his blue eyes had darker flecks of blue within them.

“Of—of course,” he replied with a small smile. “As long as it warms you up.”

“It does,” she confirmed and snuggled into the warmth his bulk and fur provided and resumed her reading. As she turned the page, she felt Beast’s arm come down from its spot on the back of the sofa to wrap around her, successfully encasing her in his warmth as she sat curled up beside him.

Belle smiled, her heart tightening pleasantly at the embrace, and continued to read, a warmth spreading through her that went beyond mere body heat.

____

She was so close to him, willingly curled up beside him. He could feel her toes beneath his thigh and was amazed at how cold they were, like little icicles. It was clear she was seeking warmth, but she could have easily gotten that from the blanket he had offered to get for her. She had chosen this. He felt his heart beat faster at this unfamiliar closeness, making his chest pleasantly tight. 

Eventually, he even had the courage to bring his arm down to wrap around her, telling himself it was for the sake of warming her and not because he desired to hold her close to him. Her only response was to snuggle closer, which he took as a sign that his arm may reman where it was.

After a time, Belle sighed and closed the book.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, coming out of the comfortable mindset he always sunk into when Belle would read to him.

“No, I just need to rest my voice for a little while,” she said and placed the book on the sofa beside her, staying curled up where she was. “I’ll read some more in a bit.”

“Only if you wish to,” he said. He was about to move his arm to let her up, much as he did not want to break his embrace, but Belle twisted under his arm to rest her head on his shoulder.

“A-are you comfortable?” he could not help but ask as his heart thudded anew. He felt Belle nod her head and a grin spread across his face.

“Will you tell me something about you?” he heard her ask and his smile fell. Something about him? What could he tell her that wouldn’t reveal too much, that wouldn’t make her hate him?

“It doesn’t have to be something big,” she said when he was silent for a little too long. “Your favorite color, maybe? I just know so little about you.” He glanced down to see her beautiful hazel eyes staring up at him and he gave her a crooked sort of smile.

“Blue,” he replied, picturing the dress he first saw Belle in, that she still often wore around the castle despite the dozens of new dresses she had at her disposal. Belle smiled at him before resting her head on his shoulder once again.

They fell into a comfortable silence, Beast watching the flames dance in the fireplace as the storm raged outside, listening to Belle breath beside him. After a little while, Beast felt Belle’s head loll slightly against him. 

“Belle?” he called softly, suspecting that she might have fallen asleep. When she did not respond, Beast smiled and resisted the urge to stroke the crown of her head. Instead, he leaned his head on the back of the sofa and enjoyed the knowledge that Belle was so comfortable with him that she could fall asleep in his embrace. How many years had he longed for such a thing, never thinking it would ever be possible. His heart skipped again in renewed joy and allowed the sound of Belle’s gentle breathing to lull him to sleep as well.

Chapter Text

It snowed twice more before signs of spring overwhelmed the winter and Belle discovered a new activity within the castle: spring cleaning. The servants were in an uproar shaking out drapes, dusting away the cobwebs, and washing every surface until it gleamed. Though Belle had not noticed the gloom for some time now, indeed Cogsworth kept a tight ship all things considered, it was as if a cloud had lifted off the castle and she was seeing it anew.

“Do they do this every year?” Belle asked as she walked the halls with Beast and a dustpan and broom scurried across their path. 

“No. This is the first time in years they’ve done more than just a few rooms,” he admitted and Belle noticed he sounded surprised himself.

“Have they ever done your room?” Belle dared to ask.

“No.” The answer was blunt, just as Belle predicted.

“Well, maybe it’s time. Everyone seems to want a fresh start for spring, perhaps it would do you some good as well.” Beast glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, continuing their walk, hands clasped behind his back. “It’s been a long time.”

“All the more reason to do it,” she pressed. “The room I saw belongs to someone you aren’t anymore."

Beast turned back to her looking startled by her words and was silent for a long minute. Belle was so afraid he would take what she said the wrong way, find some sort of insult where there was none.

“You really believe that?” he said finally.

“Yes, I do,” she confirmed, returning his disbelieving gaze steadily. 

“All right,” he sighed, his breath coming out in a puff of defeat. “I’ll give them permission to clean it up.”

“I think you’ll like how it comes out,” she assured him. “I’d actually like to see if I could help for a little while, maybe with some of the bedrooms up near mine,” she added, making it clear that she was not going to disturb the West Wing. He had his secrets still and she was still desperately curious, but she would respect his privacy. Belle noticed his shoulders drop as he relaxed and knew she had been right to specify her intention.

“Would you like to meet in the library after lunch?”

“All right, I’ll meet you then,” he agreed. Belle watched him walk in the direction of the West Wing, knowing this was a good thing for him to do. Beast had changed so much; the room of scattered bones and broken furniture was the reflection of an animal, not of her Beast. 

When he disappeared around a corner, she set off in the opposite direction to see if she could be of some help. She had explored several of the other rooms near her own already, and she would be glad of the opportunity to help bring some of them back to life. 

“Bonjour, Babette,” Belle called when she had reached the East Wing where her room was. The feather duster was making her way through the hall just ahead of her, but paused and turned when Belle called her name.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” she replied. “May I help?”

“Actually, I was coming to see if I could help you. It’s quite the undertaking you all have been set.”

“Oui, if you like, I was just going to meet the others to clean out the guest bedrooms.”

“Lead the way,” Belle said, waving her onward. She appreciated that Babette kept any judgement from her expression; the servants had learned weeks ago that Belle liked to help out where she could: wash dishes, mend her own clothes, clean up her own room, anything she could do to not feel useless. Come springtime proper she’d be in the garden as well. 

There were only a few tasks she could not do: laundry, washing windows, and cooking. Laundry was fairly automated with the servants the way they were and she felt more like she was slowing them down than helping. Cogsworth had a fit the first time and only time he found her on a ladder trying to reach the tall windows in the hall near her bedroom; the ladder himself got in trouble for helping her which she felt very guilty about. Belle never actually tried to cook anything; the chef was very protective of his kitchen and it seemed best to leave it alone. 

But that meant now the servants hardly looked up when Belle entered a stuffy, dusty bedroom and began stripping the bedclothes off the mattress. 

She helped them with room after room; mostly it was a matter of dusting and airing out the rooms that had been closed off for what seemed like years. The laundry would be inundated with bedclothes, but she and the other servants were able to get the rooms in shape without too much trouble.

“What’s this?” she asked as they reached the floor above her own room. Grand double doors stood closed with handles that exactly matched those on Beast’s rooms. She thought she had explored most of the castle, but perhaps she spent too much time branching out from her room rather than exploring the same wing more diligently.

Most of the servants exchanged glances and hopped off quickly without answering her. Babette stayed behind with her, but did not answer her for a long moment.

“It is—It is the rooms of our previous master and lady,” she finally admitted.

“You mean Beast’s parents?” she tried to clarify, but Babette was already ducking into the next room.

Belle turned back to consider the doors. Last time she had entered a similar pair of doors on the opposite side of the castle uninvited, things had not ended well. But surely this must be different. Beast would not want to enter, she thought she understood a little of why. His parents were doubtlessly long gone, and the reminder of his childhood, a human childhood, would be extremely painful. 

He wouldn’t have to know, she reasoned. But she did not have many secrets from him, and felt a little uneasy about hiding such a thing from him.

“I’ll just tell him later,” she decided and pulled open one of the doors with an echoing creek.

She peered inside and found a room frozen in time. It seemed to have the same layout of the West Wing, though she couldn’t be sure having not been able to see it very clearly her only visit. And she noticed that not a single piece of furniture or knick knack seemed to move, which was a blessing. She couldn’t imagine Mrs. Potts would leave someone shut up alone for so many years. Belle wondered briefly if there had been a sweep of the castle when the enchantment first befell them.

It appeared to be one large room rather than a suite of rooms she had expected. A small sitting area was arranged in the center just a few feet inside the door with a chaise lounge, a couple of chairs, and a small table in the center. The table had a large silver bowl sitting on it, waiting to be filled with fruit or flowers perhaps. 

To her right was a large fireplace, as cold and dark as the room itself was. Two more armchairs sat before it and Belle tried to picture his parents sitting there, enjoying the fire and each other’s company. She could see a couple in fine clothes, the woman with jewels sparkling at her neck and fingers, but their faces were a haze.

Belle turned away from the chairs and surveyed the other side of the room. Two large wardrobes stood near a large pair of heavy velvet maroon curtains. She explored the wardrobes first and pulled open the door to one. The full skirts of a dozen dresses burst out, freed from the confining space of the wardrobe and making Belle start. 

She put a hand out to touch the delicate fabric of a golden skirt that was buried, seemingly almost forgotten, beneath the others. Belle had never seen something so beautiful before; the fabric seemed to shimmer of its own accord. 

Feeling a bit daring, Belle carefully took it town from the wardrobe and held it out to explore fully. Pickups dotted the full skirt, off-the-shoulder sleeves dropped elegantly near the golden bodice. Belle held the dress to herself as if she was wearing it and spun in a circle, enjoying the gentle shushing sound the fabric made and how the skirt billowed out around her. It could be her size, she realized, looking down, and that gave her an idea. A daring, exciting idea. 

But for now, she put the dress back where she found it. As she did, she noticed a few hangers sitting empty in the wardrobe and suddenly Belle wondered about the true origins of the dresses Madame Armoire had presented her. Deciding she would ask her later, Belle continued exploring the rest of the room, though she couldn’t help but glance once or twice back at the doors of the wardrobe.

The curtains she noticed earlier, upon closer examination, Belle realized actually hung from a large four poster bed, meant for privacy for the bed’s occupants. 

She walked up and pulled back one curtain that had escaped its ties, wondering if Beast’s mother slept here alone. She knew that the upper classes often married for position rather than love, and that wedded couples often slept apart. Belle shook her head sadly; she could never marry into such a situation. If she married, she would have to love that person very much, enough to want to be by his side always. 

She was about to turn away when she noticed the bedside table. Neatly organized with a small jewelry box, a handkerchief, and a few other delicate odd and ends, this was clearly used by Beast’s mother. But there was something that seemed out of place there; a small vase stood on the edge nearest the bed, long-wilted roses still stood inside. The years had reduced them to a rusty brown and several petals had dropped to the table and floor. She touched one gently and the old petals rubbed together like paper.

Belle glanced around the room one more time. Everything else was so tidy, nothing like this had been left behind anywhere else. No flowers, no food, not even old blackened logs in the fireplace. So why these?

Something desperately sad must have happened, she realized and put a hand to her lips as she imagined the boy from the painting placing a vase of fresh roses here for his ill mother. The thought of it made her eyes blur with tears and she turned away, regretting her decision to explore this particular room.

Chapter Text

As she closed the doors behind her, once again shutting up the room, she jumped as Lumiere’s voice greeted her.

“Forgive me, mademoiselle, I did not mean to frighten you,” Lumiere assured her with a bow and a kind smile. “I see your explorations have taken you somewhere new.”

“Yes, they have,” she said and quickly wiped away a lingering tear from her eye.

“What is the matter, ma cherie?” he asked, his face pulling into an expression of concern. 

“Nothing,” she said quickly, but decided she wanted to confirm what she had seen. “This was Beast’s parents’ room, wasn’t it?”

“It was, ma cherie,” Lumiere said, his jovial voice a bit slower as caution entered his tone.

“What happened to his mother?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper. Lumiere was silent and she could see the debate of whether to tell her or not in his eyes. 

“She fell ill when the Master was young. She fell ill, and she did not recover. Please do not ask any more of me, for I fear it is not my place.” It was the most sober she had ever heard Lumiere speak.

“I won’t. Thank you for telling me. I saw the—I saw the flowers by the bed and thought that might be it. I wish he had told me, though. My mother also died when I was a child, you see. I wish—I’m sorry I went in.” She began to walk away absentmindedly, but Lumiere stopped her.

“Did you happen to peak in the wardrobes, by any chance, ma cherie?” he asked, resuming his usual boisterous mood. 

“I did,” she confirmed warily. Had he somehow seen her foolishly playing dress up like a child?

“Surely you noticed how similar those dresses are to your own?” he pressed. Belle put her hands on her hips and looked at him, wondering what he was getting at.

“I did,” she said again. “Is that where my dresses have been coming from? Have I been wearing the clothes of your late Master’s wife?”

“No, no, ma cherie. They have been made for you.”

“Made for me? But who? How? And why are they in there?” she asked, gesturing behind her at the closed doors. Though she had to admit it was a relief to know that she had not been marching around the castle wearing Beast’s mother’s clothes. It would have been too strange, and maybe would have even angered him.

“The fabric was brought to us in same deliveries that bring food and supplies. Another part of the enchantment, as far as I know,” he explained. “When Madame Armoire had your lovely blue dress cleaned and mended while you were ill, measurements were taken from it. I can tell you it was quite a treat to help pick out the fabrics your dresses would be made from. Our fine seamstresses did the work, though. And I admit, we all got a little carried away,” he sighed, shrugging guiltily. “So Mrs. Potts suggested we put the majority away so as to not overwhelm you.”

“But why in there?” she repeated.

“It seemed like a good place. Where would you have had us put them?”

“I wouldn’t have had you make them for me in the first place,” she argued, flushing in embarrassment at having such a fuss made for her. That also meant that someone had designed that ball gown for her to wear. What had they been thinking when they did such a thing?

“That’s why Mrs. Potts had us put them away,” Lumiere said, sagging a little, his candles flickering low. “She thought you would not approve. And now I have let the cat out of the bag and angered you.”

“I’m not angry,” she said quickly. “I—I just don’t know what you were thinking having such fine things made. That gold ball gown—”

“Ah, that is my favorite, ma cherie!” Lumiere exclaimed, his candles sparkling once again. 

“But why? I’ve no cause to wear it,” she protested.

“Maybe you will find a reason,” he said and winked. “By the way, was it you that convinced the Master to have the West Wing cleaned?” he asked, pulling her abruptly into another subject.

“It was, but he agreed to it,” she replied, still annoyed at this new knowledge of absurd finery. She would never have cause to wear such an expensive gown and it seemed wasteful to even have it made, and beautiful as it was. “I just thought it was time he put that part of him behind.”

“As usual, you are right, ma cherie. Now, if you will excuse me, I am trying to find dear Babette. I want to ask if she will help Mrs. Potts and I clean the ballroom.”

“There’s a ballroom here?” she asked before she could stop herself. How large was this castle that she had not yet discovered such a room despite all her explorations? The gold ballgown flew again to her mind, and she was instantly annoyed with how Lumiere had arranged their conversation.

“But of course, ma cherie. A beautiful grand ballroom with windows large enough to see the blanket of stars in the night sky,” he answered dreamily, waving his candles as he spoke.

“Babette is in that second room on the right, last I saw,” Belle said bluntly, realizing what Lumiere was doing. He was attempting to manipulate the situation, for some reason. Asking about the dresses, mentioning the ballroom, bringing up Beast in the same conversation. It was too obvious and Belle did not appreciate his foolish attempt in the same way she did not appreciate having dozens of expensive dresses made for her without her consent.

Lumiere bowed and hopped away without another word and Belle huffed off in the opposite direction. 

What was Lumiere thinking? Did he really expect Beast to want to dress up with her, to dance with her, to hold her close under the stars…

She trailed off in her thoughts, blushing at the idea of Beast with one hand around her waist, guiding her through a glittering ballroom while music floated in the air.

Belle shook her head and marched on. Beast probably didn’t know how to dance, anyway. He’d never agree to something like that.

But you could teach him, a small voice in the back of her head reasoned. She knew how to dance fairly well, but she hadn’t practiced in years. She would probably trod on his feet. 

Which would make him laugh and put him more at ease, that treacherous voice in her head said. 

“It would be rather fun,” she muttered out loud, her frustration ebbing a little.

“What would be fun?” Chip’s voice broke into her thoughts. She looked down to see the cheerful teacup and his mother hopping towards her, behind them an army of mops and brooms and other various cleaning crews criss crossing across the halls and doorways.

“Going for a ride on Philippe when the weather gets warmer,” she said quickly although she noticed Mrs. Potts’ knowing smile as Belle felt her cheeks grow warm. Sometimes she swore Mrs. Potts could read her mind.

“That would be fun. Mamma can I ride, too?” he asked, turning to his mother.

“We’ll see,” was all she said, in true mother fashion. “We were just off onto the next phase of our work. Lunch has been laid for you in your room if your hungry.”

“Lunchtime already?” she wondered. “Thank you, Mrs. Potts. I was going to meet Beast after I eat, but I’m happy to help you instead if you need it.”

“Oh, no don’t trouble yourself dear. We’ve got plenty of hands on deck to get the job done. Come along now, Chip,” she said and hopped onward.

“Bye!” Chip called, leaving Belle alone once again. Belle shook her head again and wondered if Lumiere had been talking to Mrs. Potts recently. She should thank her, too, for trying to control Lumiere and his seamstress friends, for not inundating her with gown after gown.

Deciding she needed a distraction, Belle ducked into her room only long enough to greet Madame Armoire and pick up her tray. She carried it back to the library, intent on studying one of the history books, perhaps something on the Romans. That always made her mind focus when it drifted off to unwanted thoughts.

Once in the library, she chose a heavy book about the fall of the Roman Empire, propped it up, and ate while reading. Every once in awhile she would touch certain entries with the handle of her fork when she was trying to commit some fact to memory, all thoughts of gowns and ballrooms gone from her mind for the moment, at least.

Chapter Text

“Mrs. Potts almost didn’t believe me,” Beast said, joining her at the table where she had been studying. “I had to repeat myself three times.”

Belle laughed, closing the heavy book and pushing it aside as he sat across from her.

“Did I interrupt?” he asked, glancing at the book and the empty tray that had contained her lunch.

“Not at all,” she assured him. “I’m sure Mrs. Potts was thrilled when she realized you were serious.”

“I think she was,” Beast chuckled.  “Would you like to read something? What were you working on?” he asked, turning the book to read the title. “The Fall of the R-Roman…” he pushed the book back towards her with a small grimace on his face. 

“I was thinking of finding something new,” she said lightly, pushing the heavy book away at arm’s length, emphasizing that she was done with it and would not attempt to read it to him, which was a relief. “We’ve gone through the pile you helped me separate, so we’ll need to find something new.”

“Already? How is that possible?” Belle giggled at his surprise.

“A good book disappears quickly, doesn’t it?” she replied and Beast nodded. “Is there one you’d like to read again before we find something new?”

“I think I’d like to find a new one,” he decided. “You’ve got plenty to choose from, after all.” 

Belle looked around at the thousands of shelves that surrounded them and he mimicked her, wondering where they would even begin to look.

“Will you help me again?”

“Of course,” he agreed and followed her once more to the shelves. 

It wasn’t long before they had a proper pile once again. This time Belle found Shakespeare’s works and picked out a few she said she hadn’t heard of before as well as some of her favorites, among them Romeo and Juliet.

“Let’s read this one first,” she suggested when they had returned to the chairs by the fireplace, holding up Romeo and Juliet. “Logically speaking, I find the main characters a little silly, I’ll explain why when we’re done, but I can’t help but love the story.”

“Very well,” Beast agreed and settled in.

______

He listened intently to the tale of two young people, doomed from the beginning by their feuding families. It was a sad tale, to be sure, but he couldn’t help but become as engrossed with this story as he had with all the others. 

He did very much enjoy the sword fights, but he was equally transfixed by Romeo and Juliet’s love affair. It was with disappointment then that he discovered it was a much shorter tale than the others and was over far too quickly. 

“Could you read it again?” he requested as Belle closed the book. 

“Did you like it?” she asked, though by her smile it seemed she already knew the answer.

“Yes, but it was much too short. And very sad.”

“Shakespeare did write a lot of sad tales,” she sighed. “But they’re such wonderful stories.”

Beast gently took the book from Belle’s hands and idly examined the cover while running the story through his head. Could anything be as sad as those two, how was it put, “star-crossed lovers”?

“Would you like to try to read it to me?” Belle suggested, her tone cautious.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know…” The very idea of it terrified him. He didn’t like to deny Belle anything, but this seemed an unachievable task. 

“I’ll help you,” she offered and slid her chair closer to him so they might look at the book together. Her fearless presence was enough to make him pause, during which Belle took the opportunity to open the book to the first page.

“Let’s start here,” she said, pointing to the first words. Beast glanced at her uncertainly, but she seemed so confident in him he didn’t want to disappoint her.

Hesitantly, Beast picked out the letters of the first word and recognized the letter ‘w’ in it; he always had trouble with that one, he remembered.

“Tuough?” he started shakily.

“Two,” Belle corrected gently. “W usually makes almost  an ‘ooh’ sort of sound, like ‘what’ or sway,’” she said, heavily emphasizing the letter in question.

“Oh, I see.” He truly did, and that gave him enough confidence to keep going.  Slowly, his childhood lessons came back to him as he read for Belle, although her explanations made much more sense when he stumbled. Soon he had made it through the first page, then the first scene, and at last finished the first act.

It was difficult to want to stop then. Between Belle’s nearness and his own pride at reading so well as he had not done in years, as far as he was concerned the afternoon was one of perfection.

“You did wonderfully!” Belle praised him when he finished the first act. “And you’ve been making me read this whole time,” she teased, her smile ruining any attempt to seem cross.

“I guess I forgot I could,” he admitted, his pride growing with Belle’s compliment. He was glad Belle had been there to help him, for he never would have attempted such a thing on his own. It was comforting to have her sit so close beside him and he found himself eager to remain beside her. He wanted to be by her side always.

“Would you like to keep going?” he offered, thinking that would keep her close to him for at least another hour if nothing else.

“Yes, but I need to tell you something first, something I’m afraid you might be angry at me for,” Belle said quickly and Beast got the impression she had blurted out her words before she could think about them. She looked nervous, twisting her fingers, a delicate blush flushing her cheeks. Belle was rarely nervous in front of him; she was always the calm one who handled every situation with grace. But that was not the case now.

“What’s that?” he asked tentatively, unsure what she would say but already resolving not to lose his temper. Whatever she had done she was already sorry for.

“While I was helping clean with the others this morning, I came across a room I had not seen before. I made Babette tell me what it was, and it was your parents’ room. I know I probably shouldn’t have, but I went in and explored because I was too curious. But I didn’t really touch anything and I was only there for few minutes.” She said all of this rather quickly as if to get it over with. Beast had to take a moment to register what she had said, his mind trying to catch up with her words.

“My parents’ room?” he repeated. He had not been in his parents’ room since his mother died. His father had the room shut up after she was gone. And then he left, abandoning his young son alone in this great castle with no one but the servants. Beast felt his lips curl into a snarl thinking of his father, but he quickly corrected it, not wanting Belle to think he was angry at her.

“It’s all right,” he reassured her, meeting her hazel eyes. 

“Really? Because I found something, a vase of old, dried roses by the bedside and I—”

A flash of a memory blocked Beast’s vision for a moment. He saw a small, pale hand placing the vase on the table, the red and white roses arranged inside, his mother’s favorites. Maman was watching him and smiled, thanking him for the flowers, telling him that she loved him.

Beast stood abruptly against the unwanted memories, nearly knocking over his chair, and stood to stare out the window, but he couldn’t see the landscape set before him for the memories that were bombarding his mind. His mother’s warm smile, his father’s scowl, his sister’s little laugh as he chased her through the halls…

He was vaguely aware of a small touch on his arm, but it wasn’t until a hand reached up and caressed his cheek did he bring himself back to the present moment. It was Belle’s hand, he realized. Belle had come over to him, placed a hand on his cheek, and gently bade him to look at her. Her hand remained where it was as their eyes met, her thumb gently stroking his fur.

“I’m sorry,” she said plaintively.

“No, don’t be,” he said quickly. “I just—I haven’t thought about her in a long time.” Belle removed her hand only to embrace him, her arms encircling as much of him as she could. Startled by the embrace at first, he willingly returned the gesture, enfolding her in his own arms. It occurred to him then that Belle knew exactly how he felt, what it meant to lose a mother so young, remembering the conversation they had when he had first given her the library. He pulled her a little tighter and they stayed like that until she pulled away.

“So you’re not angry with me?” she asked, staying within arm’s reach and looking up at him.

“No, of course not,” he assured her with a small smile. “But I would like to keep reading, if you want to.”

“That sounds nice,” she agreed and led them back to the table to resume their story.

Chapter Text

Belle spent a restless night thinking of ballgowns and starlit dances. Lumiere’s conversation and her own foolish thoughts had gotten to her, and it had made her cross. Part of her wished she had told Beast about it so he might reassure her, but she was also aware how silly she was being and didn't want to admit to it. She couldn’t believe that it would have been Lumiere’s intention to pressure her into anything, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit manipulated, as though a path had been laid out for her to follow. Where that path led she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like being tricked into it. 

She wondered what else she had been manipulated into. Was Beast in on it? She hated to think it, but had the gift of the library been one of those crumbs on the pre-aligned path? Beast didn’t seem the type to manage such a thing and still react as honestly as he did. She didn’t know what to think anymore.

“What will you do today, dearie?” Madame Armoire asked as Belle got ready for the day. She offered her a rich purple dress with three-quarter sleeves that fastened with pearl buttons. It was lovely, as all the others had been, but now they had been tainted for her.

“May I have my dress, please? The blue one?” she asked. 

“Very well,” Madame said and produced it quickly and without further comment, which was very unlike her, but Belle paid it no mind. 

Belle dressed quietly, then walked to the side of her bed and pulled the cord that hung from the wall, the cord that would summon a servant to her. She had never used it before; indeed it would have been an ideal way to call help when she had fallen ill, but in her panic she didn’t remember it existed. To be fair, she had never had such a thing before. 

Mrs. Potts answered her call a few minutes later, gliding in with her tea cart. 

“Belle dear, are you all right?” she asked as she bustled on her cart making tea for her. “Only I don’t think you’ve ever rung before.”

“I didn’t feel up to going out just yet, I’m sorry if it’s inconvenient,” Belle said, sitting at the small table in her room, feeling drained of her energy even though she had only woken a few minutes ago.

“Not at all. You could never be an inconvenience, dear. I just was worried you weren’t feeling well. You do seem a little run-down. Here, have a cup of tea and I’ll get you some breakfast. Any requests?”

“Just a little toast and maybe an egg?” Belle asked. That’s what she would have if she were home, if she were preparing breakfast for her father.

“Back in a jiffy, then,” Mrs. Potts said and left. Belle turned to look out the window, placing her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. Her window looked out onto the forest, not quite in the direction of the village, but it didn’t matter; miles of forest separated her from her father, the trees she looked at now might as well be the ones that hid him from her. 

What would Papa be doing now? Was he trying to find her, or had he given up, mourning her as dead. She had saved his life by convincing Beast to let him go from that cold, dank cell, but what had his life been like spent worrying for her these past few weeks? Or was it months now?

“Months,” she decided glumly. She had spent nearly the entire winter here. Most of her days had been comfortable and happy with Beast and the others as company, and now she felt guilty for them, as if she had betrayed her father by enjoying herself for even a moment.

“Belle, dear,” Mrs. Potts’ voice broke into her thoughts and she jumped, realizing she had been calling her for several moments.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly, sitting up in her chair and taking the plate she had brought. 

“Not to worry, dear. Seemed like you were miles away.”

“I was, rather,” she mumbled, staring down at her plate. Mrs. Potts had added a bit of fruit to her breakfast and Belle smiled at the kindness of that small detail.

“Mrs. Potts,” she called as the kindly teapot started to leave. The tea cart wheeled back towards her. “Did— Lumiere and I had a very strange conversation yesterday…”

“Ah, yes he told me you found all those dresses he and some of the others had made for you,” she sighed and shook her head. “I knew the first time I talked to you that you wouldn’t like such a fuss made, but sometimes Lumiere just can’t help himself. I hope it didn’t upset you too much.”

“It’s not that. I mean, you’re right that I don’t want a fuss, but it’s more what he said after. He was—I think he was trying to get Beast and I to have some sort of formal dinner. I mentioned the golden gown and he got very…”

“Crafty?” she suggested when Belle couldn’t find the right word.

“I guess you could say that, although I know his heart is in the right place,” she added quickly. “It just made me feel as though I had been…well, manipulated a bit, as though I couldn’t be trusted to follow some path that had been laid out for me.”

“Oh, dearest,” Mrs. Potts sighed and hopped off her tea cart and onto the table in front of her. “Lumiere can be a bit over-enthusiastic when it comes to certain things. I won’t pretend as though we haven’t all noticed the effect you’ve been having on the Master. He’s been able to find his kind and gentle soul again, thanks to you. But I think Lumiere may have overstepped the mark. But no one’s been making you do anything. If they could, don’t you think we would have kept you from the West Wing in the first place?”  

“I suppose, but that’s not—” she started.

“You have a mind of your own, love. A strong, stubborn mind if you don’t mind my saying, and you’re clever enough to know if you’ve been had. And believe me when I say if I knew of any such thing, I’d be putting a stop to it.”

“Who’s idea was it to give me the library?” she asked, hoping what Mrs. Potts said was true, but needing to know if the purest thing she had was tainted.

“Well—I’ll be honest with you, dear, it was Lumiere’s. The Master wanted to do something for you, something to make you smile, and Lumiere remembered the interest you showed in it before. He provided advice, my dear. That is all.”

“I know I’m being foolish. It’s just—things have been going so well lately and to find out that things have been orchestrated behind my back, I couldn't help put feel the pawn in some game.”

“Just trust in your own heart. What Lumiere’s done has nothing to do with how you feel, with the time you’ve spent with the Master. He might have had a few ideas, and frankly I think he was very bold to say the things he did yesterday, but how you chose to act and feel is your own doing.”

Belle felt deflated, her shame at overreacting taking over. 

“I’ll apologize to him in a little while. It wasn't a half-bad idea, to be honest. And that gown is beautiful. I just—I just want to know that Beast isn't—that we really are friends.”

“Of course, my dear. As I said, only you are in control of what you think and feel. Never doubt that.”

“Thank you,” Belle replied, realizing how much she needed that reassurance. She wished she could embrace Mrs. Potts, but of course that was impossible, so she settled for a smile. It made her ache for her father though; he would've offered similar advice had she been able to talk to him.

“My pleasure, dearest. Now eat up, and don't worry.” With that, Mrs. Potts hopped back on her cart and left. Belle was grateful for her help, but she was still a little uneasy. She should just talk to Lumiere about it and solve the issue face to face. But first, she would do as Mrs. Potts said and eat her breakfast.

Chapter Text

Feeling a bit more prepared, a bit more calm, Belle emerged from her bedroom to seek Lumiere out.

She made her way down to the kitchens, but was stopped midway there when she saw Beast walking up the hall. It was the first time since they had become friends where she wished she hadn’t come across him. Her mind still wasn’t quite at ease, wouldn’t be until she set things straight with Lumiere. Frankly she was hoping to find out for sure that Beast had nothing to do with the orchestrated events before meeting him. 

“Good morning. For such a big castle we seem to meet in the halls quite a lot,” he said, smiling at her. He was always careful not to show his teeth, but she loved when he forgot himself and grinned openly. His warm smile now was reassuring that not everything was built on falsehood as she had begun to fear. Their friendship was real, and nothing could ruin that.

“Good morning,” she replied, doing her best to return his warm greeting. But apparently he had grown to know her well enough to know when she was hiding something.

“What is it?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together with concern. 

“It’s nothing. Well, nothing that I can’t set straight,” she said with a sigh.

“Can I help?” His request was so honest, his willingness so clear, that she found herself confessing to him there in the hall. Her conversation with Lumiere, learning of his involvement in so many things regarding her, even her bout of homesickness and her conversation with Mrs. Potts that morning. And he listened to every word with his full attention, not interrupting, letting her get the full story out.

“I see,” he grunted when she was done. 

“I know it’s foolish. I know that Lumiere didn’t mean any harm, but—”

“No, I can see why you thought this,” Beast said when she trailed off, at a loss. He scratched the back of his neck and she waited for him to speak. 

“I—” he began, but stopped. “It’s important to me that you know that—that nothing Lumiere or anyone else did or said made me do anything. They, that is, Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts, they are the nearest thing I have to—to family, I suppose, and they’ve given me advice. Especially at the beginning. But even though Lumiere suggested the library, I could’ve said no. And he didn’t—didn’t make me spend time there, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” she assured him quickly, taking a step towards him. 

“As for missing your home, I—”

“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Please don’t. Things have been so lovely here with you, I don't want to ruin it. I worry about him, but he’ll be fine. We’re both safe and I—I enjoy being here with you.” 

There was more that she wished to say, that she knew he wouldn't hold her here if she truly wanted to leave, that maybe arrangements could be made after a little more time had passed. That she knew her kind and gentle Beast would let see her father again, maybe even welcome the idea of it. But she kept silent for the time being. She felt to address it so directly would ruin it somehow. Maybe because he was still learning and growing and could not yet see what she saw in him.

“And anyway,” she added, taking another step closer and reaching for his paw, “I would like to have the excuse to wear that golden gown soon. Since it's already been made, it seems a shame to let it sit hidden in a wardrobe.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess what I’m saying is…would you have dinner with me tonight?”

“Don't we usually?” he asked, the point going over his head entirely.

“A dinner that maybe would be suited to such a gown, I mean,” she clarified, trying not to giggle at him or blush with embarrassment at her bold request. 

“Oh! Oh, yes!” he agreed. There was that unrestrained grin she was so fond of. 

“Wonderful! I think it will be fun. I should go talk to Lumiere, but will I see you in a little while?”

“I’ll meet you in the library,” he agreed, still grinning at her. 

“See you soon, then,” she said and continued on towards the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder once and saw Beast staring after her. A blush crept into her cheeks as she waved at him and turned the corner.

____

Dinner. Her and him…together…for dinner. For a nice dinner. And it was her idea. Well, apparently Lumiere had the same idea and had been too pushy about it, but even so, she had thought it a good idea anyway.

He grimaced briefly at the idea of stuffing himself into a formal suit to match the occasion—if he even owned such a thing—but the idea of seeing Belle in such finery made his heart skip. He could see how excited she was about the idea of a formal evening with him, and he wasn’t sure he could stand how wonderful that simple thing made him feel.

But the rest of their conversation nagged at him. She was missing her home, her father. He felt, and not for the first time, a sharp pang of guilt for ripping them apart, for being the cause of the old man’s illness while he was imprisoned, for Belle’s unhappiness without him. She was happy here, he didn’t think she lied about that, but would she ever be content to stay without her father? If the rose wasn’t so close to losing all it’s petals…

Surely a few more days wouldn’t make a difference to her father. Perhaps Beast could welcome him back to the castle under better terms. He stared after Belle though she was long gone from his sight, and dared to hope such a thing were possible.

_____

“Lumiere?” she called as she entered the kitchen. It seemed to be where most of the servants congregated when not doing their chores, so it seemed the most likely place to find him.

“Can I help, mademoiselle?” Cogsworth asked from one of the countertops. 

“Actually, I do need Lumiere. I need to talk to him about—well about something we were discussing yesterday. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, he’s probably off shirking his chores again,” Cogsworth sighed dramatically. 

“I heard that, you rusty old clock!” Lumiere shouted, hopping into the kitchen at just the right moment.

“Good, maybe now you’ll learn to stop lazing about and pull your own weight for a change,” Cogsworth retorted. They exchanged insults back and forth a couple more times before Belle decided to intervene with a small ‘ahem.’

“You’re an embarrassment, Lumiere, keeping her waiting like this.”

“Did you wish to speak with me, ma cherie?” Lumiere said, ignoring Cogsworth.

“I did, if you have a moment. Shall we?” she said, gesturing towards the door.

“Lead on, mademoiselle,” he said with a wave of one candle. The large dining room was most convenient, and there wasn’t a need to go far. Belle sat at one of the chairs on the side of the long table and Lumiere hopped onto the table’s surface to be more eye-level with her. 

“I wanted to talk about yesterday. With the dresses,” she began.

“Ah, oui, I am embarrassed at how easily I was carried away,” he said.

“That’s not quite what I mean,” she said and explained what she had told Mrs. Potts that morning. “I know you probably didn’t mean to, that you’re heart is in the right place, but I just had to be sure that—that you weren’t trying to manipulate me down a path of your own making. It sounds so silly now,” she realized, feeling more and more foolish.

“No, it is not so silly. It seems I have been getting carried away in more than one way.” Lumiere paused to collect his thoughts and Belle waited. 

“You see, I could not help but notice how you and the Master have been spending so much time together. It was encouraging, exciting, and I thought perhaps it could be more. And so when I saw you coming out of the room we have been keeping all those extra gowns for you, it seemed an ideal opportunity to…plant a seed, so to speak. I am dreadfully sorry, I know it was not my place.”

“Especially since I had already thought of it,” she said and laughed when Lumiere’s mouth fell open in surprise.

“Ah, well, I suppose I am superfluous then. I bow to a greater mind,” he said dramatically, bowing with many flourishes of his candles. “But no, ma cherie, I would never dream of intentionally leading you down a path of my own creation. I love when people are getting along, and I have advised the Master in that mindset, but never would I dream, nor I suspect could I, make you do anything you did not wish to do.”

“All right then,” she said with a relieved sigh. Mrs. Potts said as much, but it was different coming directly from Lumiere. “Then I can rely on you to help get the dining room ready for tonight? Perhaps even the ballroom?” she adding, feeling daring even asking about such a thing.

“You can count on me, ma cherie!” he said with a salute and hopped off, presumably to begin preparations. Belle’s heart began to beat frantically with what she was planning, almost as giddy as she was nervous. Hopefully she could concentrate on Beast’s improvements with his reading until it was time to get ready for the evening ahead.

Chapter Text

Beast had been standing in front of the large fireplace in the library, one paw on the mantle, staring into the flames. The days were getting warmer, but he found the dancing flames soothing to watch when his mind would otherwise be running wild with fear and excitement at what might transpire that night. It was only when he heard soft footsteps clicking on the tile floor did he turn to see Belle coming towards him.

“Is everything settled?” he asked, searching for a sign that something wasn’t quite right.

“It is,” she confirmed and he was glad to see that she seemed content. “And Lumiere is very excited to be planning our evening.” 

“What did you do?” he asked warily, noticing how pleased she seemed with herself.

“Nothing, don’t be so suspicious,” she teased. “Come, sit by me and you can keep reading to me,” she said before he could retort. She sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. How could he say no?

He read to her through the rest of the morning, the words coming easier to him as he practiced, the rhythm of his reading more natural. And he was pleased to find that it was just as easy for him to slip into the story reading it himself as it had been when Belle read, though between the two he much preferred Belle’s beautiful voice over his gruff one.

“There never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo,” he finished and heard Belle sigh as he closed the book.

“Well done,” she praised, looking up at him and his breath caught in his throat at the warm, glowing smile she gave to him.

“Well, I uh…had a good teacher,” he said, smiling back at her.

“You didn’t need me. Still, I’m glad to be of help.”

“Lunch, dearies!” Mrs. Potts interrupted, zooming in on her cart laden with food enough for both of them. “You’ll forgive me if I rush off, so much to do!” she added, having the trays left on a nearby table for them, seemingly pleased by this work that summoned her. 

“Don’t forget,” she added as she left. “You’ll both need time to get ready, so don’t linger too long after you eat!” And with that, she was gone as quickly as she arrived.

“I suppose we’d better do as we’re told,” Belle laughed and took his paw to lead him to the table. He allowed her to pull him along, her small strength no match for his and yet he was helpless against it. 

They began to eat in silence though; Beast, for one, was lost in panicked thought. Why had Belle suddenly wanted to spend such a night with him as the one she had planned? Was it truly because of her discovery of this golden dress, or was there something else? Their conversation in the hall that morning made it easy to believe there could be something more, but was he imagining it? Seeing what wasn’t there?

“I’m curious,” Belle said, interrupting his thoughts. “What did you think of Paris? The character from the play, not the city,” she clarified. 

“I thought he was rude,” he decided, taking a moment to think about her question. “He acted like he was already married to Juliet, though she didn’t even seem to like him.”

“I thought so, too,” she agreed. 

“I’m not sure he deserved to die, though,” he added, thinking of the last battle between Paris and Romeo. He was an infuriating character, but what harm had he really done? Not enough to die, he was sure of that.

Beast realized what Belle was doing; she was distracting him from worrying about that night. How had she known? How could she read him so easily?

“And Mercutio, what do you think about him?” he turned the tables to ask her a question now, and for the next several moments they distracted each other by discussing the play more in depth. Now that he had read it twice, Beast felt a little more prepared for such a conversation and managed to speak intelligently, or at least hold his own. Belle never made him feel ignorant, but he was pleased at how much he had to contribute.

But too soon, Belle glanced at the elaborate, inanimate mantel clock and declared that it was time for them to start getting ready.

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised when he protested, asked her to stay for just a few minutes longer. Here she was only his Belle and he, her Beast. Here he didn’t have to worry about impressing her; they were comfortable together.

But her warm smile was reassuring and sent his heart soaring, so he could only let her go. When she had vanished behind the library doors, he jumped up himself and dashed through a separate set of doors to bound up to the West Wing, knowing that he needed all the time he could get to prepare himself for that night.

“Lumiere!” he shouted as he went. “Cogsworth!” If he was going to make any sort of impression on Belle tonight, he would need their help.

He burst through the doors of the West Wing to wait for his two servants, but paused at the doorway in shock. At first he thought he had walked into the wrong room, but the glowing rose at the far end proved to him that this glistening, tidy room was his own.

Beast momentarily forgot his panic over dinner to take in his new surroundings. Although the servants had begun the clean up the previous day, they weren’t able to finish until that morning. That’s what had prompted him into roaming the halls in the first place. The room had been better, but now it was perfect, spotless.

Gone were the bones of the animals he had hunted in his youth. The cobwebs had been wiped away, the floors and windows washed. The servants had replaced the drapes and rugs he had torn to shreds. Even his bed, which he had diminished to little more than a nest of rags and feathers, had been replaced with a handsome frame and new mattress.

Beast straightened up unconsciously and couldn’t help the sense of pride that grew in his chest. This was the room of a prince, not a monster. This was what Belle meant when she said that the room he had did not belong to him anymore. She was right; he was not a monster anymore.

“Master?” Beast turned to see both Lumiere and Cogsworth standing at the threshold of the West Wing. They looked nervous, as if anticipating his anger, but he didn’t have time to reassure them.

“I have to get ready for tonight. I don’t know what to wear, or how to act, or…or what to say.” He glanced at the rose. There were so few petals left; his time was nearly up. 

“This night has to be special,” he said, turning his back to the rose. What mattered was that he could give Belle the wonderful night she deserved. “I want to give her something she won’t forget.”

“Fear not, Master!” Lumiere announced. “I shall take care of everything. Cogsworth, mon ami, get a bath prepared for the Master at once! I shall return in but a moment.” Beast watched Lumiere hop out of sight and wondered what he might be cooking up. Whatever it was, he knew that Belle and Lumiere had conspired together on it. He tried to put his trust in Lumiere and focus on finding the courage to face the night ahead of him.

Chapter Text

Belle sat at the vanity in her room, nervously fiddling with her hair while trying to take direction from Madame Armoire. She didn’t have much practice in styling her hair beyond her usual low ponytail and she depended on Madame Armoire’s more experienced eye to help her.

“I don’t know,” she said uncertainly, examining the latest attempt in the mirror. Half her hair was piled, quite elegantly if she did say so herself, behind her head, leaving the rest to flow loose around her shoulders. “It’s not what I’m used to.”

“But that’s the point, dearie!” Madame Armoire insisted. “This is not a night to play it safe.”

Play it safe? Belle repeated in her mind. But before she could ask what Madame Armoire meant, Mrs. Potts spoke.

“I agree, I think it looks lovely. But you’ve got to get a move on if you’re going to get to dinner on time.”

Belle nodded, taking one last uncertain glance at her hair before moving to stand before the gorgeous dress that was spread across her bed.

She ran her hand across the golden silk and smiled at its beauty, excited at the prospect of actually getting to wear it. 

Before she could put it on, though, there was a light knock on the door. Belle opened it and stepped aside to let Lumiere hop into the room.

“I have come to tell you that the Master will meet you at the grand staircase by the ballroom tonight. Mrs. Potts, will you show her the way?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Potts agreed, but Belle could only nod. Now that her idea, her silly fantasy really, was becoming reality, she found herself getting quite nervous.

Nonsense, she scolded herself and turned back to the beautiful golden dress. It took a little arranging and some help from Madame Armoire with the ties at the back of the bodice, but she was finally dressed.

“Oh, Belle,” Mrs. Potts sighed. “You look so beautiful.”

“Really?” she asked and examined herself in the mirror.

She couldn’t deny that the dress itself was certainly magnificent, but she felt rather out of place now that she was actually wearing it. The dress was too grand for someone as low born as herself, and she asked herself again what Lumiere was thinking even having it made. But she reminded herself that she was simply having dinner with Beast; this was not an official ball where real courtiers might scoff behind their hands. Beast would never laugh at her.

A bit more at ease with that knowledge, she pulled on the matching elbow-length gloves and slipped on the golden shoes before declaring herself ready. Belle opened the door to make her way to the ballroom, but paused when she saw Cogsworth standing in the hall.

“Cogsworth?” she said, curious as to why he was waiting outside her door.

“Oh, Belle! Goodness me, you look lovely! I was just coming to ask when you might be ready, but you obviously are. I shall inform the Master.” And without another word, Belle watched as Cogsworth waddled down the hall as quickly as he could manage.

“Excitable fellow, isn’t he?” Mrs. Potts remarked as she joined Belle in the hall. “Come along, then. Madame Armoire and I will show you the way.”

“You’re coming, too?” Belle asked in surprise. To the best of her knowledge, Madame Armoire had never left the room, always complaining it was too difficult to navigate the doors with her girth.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” she exclaimed in her usual boisterous tone. So Belle obligingly opened both of her bedroom doors to accommodate her, and together the three of them made their way down the hall. 

Belle spent a few steps adjusting to the weight and bulk of the skirt that hung from her hips and the small heel on her shoe, but it wasn’t long before she found her stride again. It was the bubble of excitement and fear in her stomach that she found harder to control. 

As they approached a door Belle had never seen before, Belle’s heart began to pound in her ears. What if Beast decided not to come to this ridiculous dinner she had proposed? What if something went wrong and he ran from her? He hadn’t done such a thing since the day he played piano for her, but what if this upset him, too?

But she watched as a betraying hand reached for the door handle and knew there was no going back.

_____

He had been successfully groomed and stuffed into a fine navy suit Lumiere had produced. Cogsworth and Lumiere both said how magnificent he looked, but Beast couldn’t help but feel a bit foolish in such formal clothes as the creature he was. He only hoped Belle would be able to overlook that so he wouldn’t spoil her evening.

Lumiere had told him what he had prepared for that night: music, romantic candlelight. All so that he could confess…well at least try to say to Belle what was in his heart, what he knew to be true.

Bold, daring, he repeated Lumiere’s words like a mantra in his mind as he walked towards the grand staircase where he and Belle were to meet. The words were enough to get him through the door, kept him standing upright while he waited for Belle to appear at the door opposite him as Lumiere promised she would. But as the door gently swung open, the steadying words all but flew from his mind as she saw what now stood before him. 

He could only watch as Belle walked down the staircase before him, the golden dress shimmering in the light. Never had he seen anything look so beautiful as Belle as she ran her hand delicately along the banister as she descended to the first landing. His breath caught in his throat and he was too stunned to move. The shade of the dress perfectly set off her chestnut hair, which he noticed was mostly loose, free to cascade over her bare, porcelain shoulders. She was a vision, an angel right there in front of him.

A waving flame beside him drew his attention to where Lumiere was eagerly motioning for him to move. All too aware now that he had been staring, he cleared his throat and nervously adjusted his coat before stepping down to meet the beautiful angel, praying he would not trip.

As he drew level with Belle, he couldn’t help but beam at her. She was so overwhelmingly beautiful, but as he looked into her eyes he knew this angel was still his Belle, his gentle, patient companion. 

“Good evening,” she said, smiling up at him, her eyes dancing with excitement.

“Good evening,” he replied, his heart soaring in the midst of her joy. Knowing what was right to begin this formal evening, Beast bowed to the beautiful woman and saw her curtsy elegantly in return, the folds of her dress glinting up at him.

They straightened, and Beast offered his arm to escort her down the remaining stairs and on to dinner. Sultan, that foolish footstool pup, ran up the steps to meet them and for a moment Beast was worried the evening was ruined before it had begun. But Belle merely sidestepped it with a gentle “Stay there, Sultan,” never breaking contact with his arm, and returned her gaze to him with a dazzling smile. 

Beast escorted Belle to seat at the end of a perfectly set, if a bit long, dining table and turned to his own seat arranged for him at the opposite end. The table was a bit too long to allow for comfortable conversation, not what he was used to from the other meals they had shared together, but Beast was far too nervous to talk much anway. 

They ate their meal in near silence as a footman coat rack began to play the violin for them. Beast was careful to eat with his utensils, moving slow, careful not to spill a drop. He may have slurped a bit, but he stayed clean. Belle looked up from her own meal to smile at him, acknowledging his accomplishment.

The coat rack drew Belle’s attention with a new song. She watched him for a moment before returning her gaze to him, a determined sort of look on her face. 

What is she doing? he wondered as she stood from her chair and approached him.

“Dance with me?” she requested, her gloved hands held out to him.

“Oh…I don’t…that is…” he stammered, but he saw Lumiere and Cogsworth wave him forward. Bold, daring, he reminded himself and took Belle’s outstretched hands.

He hadn’t danced in years, and frankly wasn’t that skilled at it even then. What if he trod on her foot? With his weight he would probably break her toes. But he allowed her hands to draw him out of his chair and together they walked into the ballroom, taking their place at the center of the glittering room.

She turned to face him and he felt his face grow hot, realizing only just then that to dance with Belle meant to hold her in his arms. He started to panic, his paws shook uncontrollably, but Belle only smiled that beautiful, understanding smile of hers and began to direct him.

She took one massive paw to wrap around her waist. He gulped as his paw made contact with the golden silk of her bodice and Belle drew herself close to place her left hand on the arm holding her waist, her right hand moving to take his left.

She guided him through the first steps and Beast concentrated on not stepping on her delicate feet, his tounge sticking out briefly at the corner of his mouth in his efforts. But it didn’t take long before he grew comfortable with the steps and was able to look up from their feet in triumph.

He was surprised to see Belle watching him, her warm gaze washing over him and dismissing his remaining nerves. His confidence growing, Beast caught a better grip on Belle’s hand and sent them whirling around the ballroom. He had great fun guiding them in circles, extending his arm to see Belle twirl, the full skirt following to wrap around her legs, only for her to return to his arms once more.

After several measures, the music slowed, allowing them to both catch their breath. Beast couldn’t help but gaze at Belle, overjoyed to have her in his arms, to be able to make her so happy. He thought he might burst with the joy he felt at that moment, a joy he didn’t deserve. He was caught by complete surprise though when Belle leaned forward and rested her head on his chest as they slowly turned around the room. Could she hear how fast his heart was beating? He hoped not. If Belle could be so comfortable as to perform such a tender act, then perhaps…

He dared not even think it and quickly returned his thoughts to the present. A few final twirls ended their dance and Beast led Belle out the glass doors to the balcony to enjoy the cool night air of early spring. 

His heart began to race anew, knowing that this was the moment. Here, beneath the stars, was where he would finally confess all that was in his heart to Belle.

Chapter Text

Belle couldn’t remember ever having a more wonderful night than the one she was sharing with Beast. She knew he was uncomfortable at first when she asked him to dance, but she couldn’t resist. And, truthfully, a not-so-small part of wanted the feel of his arms around her.

It was bliss dancing with him, wordlessly floating in a dream together. It felt so comfortable, so right, to be there with him. When the dance finally slowed, she leaned forward to lay her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, feeling the way his arms held her so delicately, and could not remember feeling so content as she had been in that moment.

As Beast led her out onto the balcony, she barely noticed the stars above them, finding it difficult to tear her eyes away from her Beast. Her beautiful, wonderful Beast who had done so much for her and yet somehow had also taught her so much. She sat on the short wall of the balcony, suddenly shy in his warm gaze, and fiddled with her skirt. From the corner of her eye she saw Beast join her on the wall, but was silent for several long moments. She tried to think of something to say, but words caught in her throat.

“Belle?” Beast began and slid closer to her, taking her hands in his paws. She smiled at him, relieved he had broken the silence, remarking to herself how natural it felt to have her hands in his. “You said once that you were happy here with me. Is that true?”

“Of course,” she said easily, slightly surprised at the directness of his question. How could she be anything else but happy with him after all they had been through together?

Except…she couldn’t help but think of her father, alone in their cottage while she was here living in a dream. It seemed she had not recovered from her recent bought of homesickness. 

“What is it?” Beast’s voice rumbled gently, filled with concern for her sudden silence. Belle didn’t want to ruin the night with her worry, not when they had been having such a wonderful time together, but Beast’s eyes were filled with such distress she couldn’t help but tell him.

“I miss my father. I wish I could see him, just to know he’s all right. I miss him so much,” she confessed.

“There is a way,” he said and Belle’s head shot up at his words. What did he mean by that? She was afraid to ask.

Without another word to hint at his plan, Beast drew her up and led her all the way to the West Wing, leading her inside his room without hesitation. She spared a thought for how much the room had changed since her first and only visit there, but she was much more concerned with what Beast had in mind. He led her up to where the glowing rose stood floating under its bell jar. It had wilted since she last saw it; only a few petals remained. Was it dying? 

Beast picked up a small hand mirror that lay on the table next to it and held it out to her.

“This mirror will show you anything. Anything you wish to see, you only need to ask it,” he said. Belle glanced uncertainly from it to him and back again before taking it in her gloved hands and raising it level with her face.

“I’d like to see my father, please,” she said haltingly. For a moment, she saw only her own reflection, but then the mirror glowed with a bright green light, forcing her to close her eyes until they adjusted to the sudden brightness. When she looked back, she saw the forest in the mirror’s image, as if she were looking through a window, and could see a figure stumbling through the trees.

“Papa! Oh no!” she cried, her heart breaking as she watched him limp through the forest until he fell to the ground, coughing weakly.

“What is it?” Beast asked.

“He’s sick. He may be dying, and he’s all alone in the woods somewhere,” she moaned helplessly. It tore her heart to see her father like that, knowing he needed help. But what could she do?

____

Beast watched as Belle’s expression twisted to one of terror as the mirror showed her father. He knew she had been missing him and hoped being able to see him as she said would help until—until circumstances changed so Beast might welcome him freely to the castle, but now it seemed her father was in trouble. He knew it was destroying her to see her father in such a state, and he knew what needed to be done although his heart was breaking.

“Then y-you must go to him,” he said, leaning on the table that held the glowing rose for support. There were so few petals remaining; if Belle left now, there was no way she would return in time to save him, even if she wanted to come back.

“What did you say?” she asked and turned to him, her eyes wide.

“I release you. You are no longer my prisoner.” He tried to keep his voice steady, releasing her from any bond she felt by her promise to stay.

“You mean, I’m free to go?” he heard her ask and he flinched at her words.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice cracking with emotion. If she still believed herself a prisoner after all this time, perhaps it was for the best that she left.

“Thank you!” she said, touching his paw before returning to the mirror. “Hold on, Papa. I’m on my way,” she said and he could hear the determination in her voice. This was the right thing to do, but it was destroying him.

Belle turned to give the mirror back to him, but he refused it.

“Take it with you,” he begged. “So you’ll always have a way to look back and remember me.” As he spoke he dared to reach up and gently run his paw through her silky hair as he had been longing to all night. His heart was breaking as he spoke, but he could not keep her there, not when her father was in danger. 

It comforted him to think she might use the mirror to look on him every once in a while. It was a small comfort now, but it was all he had. He thought briefly about asking to go with her, but he was certain he would only frighten the man he had imprisoned, would only make things worse. Beast would not be welcomed by him.

“Thank you for understanding how much he needs me,” she said and he could see in her beautiful hazel eyes how grateful she was. 

I need you too, he wanted to say as she started to walk away. He hung his head in despair, but was surprised to feel her gloved hand rest on his cheek, gently drawing his face up so their eyes met once more. She smiled sadly at him and opened her mouth to perhaps say something, but silence hung in the air between them and she turned to retreat down the hall. 

He extended one paw as if to stop her, but he knew he had to let her go. All he could do now was turn away and listen to her fading footsteps, knowing that he would never see her again.

“Well, well, Your Highness,” Cogsworth said triumphantly behind him. Beast blanched, unwilling to discuss the night’s heartbreaking events. “I must say everything is going just swimmingly. I knew you had it in you!”

“I let her go,” he said, not moving from his vigil over the steadily wilting rose.

“Yes, yes. Splen—You what? How could you do that?” Cogsworth sounded shocked and Beast sighed, knowing he wouldn’t understand.

“I had to.”

“Yes, but—but why?”

“Because, I love her.” The words he had longed to say to Belle finally spilled passed his lips, but it was too late. His Belle was gone forever and his heart was shattered. He listened as Cogsworth closed the door on his way out, doubtless to tell the others what had happened.

Once the door was safely closed, Beast allowed a tear to escape him, making its steady way down the cheek Belle had so recently caressed. The pain was unbearable in his chest, his own sorrow threatening to tear him apart.

Not knowing what else to do, he stumbled to the balcony in time to watch Belle gallop away from him on her horse. He followed her with his eyes as long as he could, memorizing her, running over all the glorious days they had spent together. He would need those memories in the days of loneliness he had ahead of him now.

As she disappeared into the trees for the last time, Beast threw his head back and roared in agony.

Chapter Text

Belle flew back to her room, lifting the skirt of the beautiful golden gown to keep it from catching her ankles as she ran. She had no wish to leave Beast, but her father needed her. Perhaps she could come back when she could be sure her father was well again. The thought of it eased her mind, but somehow it wasn’t enough.

“What’s going on?” Madame Armoire asked as Belle burst into her room and started frantically pulling off her gloves. “Didn’t you have a nice evening?”

Belle paused in her hurried attempts to undo the bindings of the dress to look at the wardrobe, knowing time was precious but needing her to understand. “Tonight was the most wonderful night I’ve ever had,” she said truthfully. “But Beast’s mirror showed me that my father’s in trouble. I have to go find him before it’s too late.”

She lay the gown carefully across her bed, careful not to ruin it, and threw on her familiar blue dress, feeling the magic of the night leaving her as she did.

“But you can’t leave now!” Madame Armoire protested.

“I have to, I’m so sorry. Do you have a bag I could use?” Madame Armoire produced a leather satchel from one of her drawers and handed it over with a frown. Belle carefully put the mirror inside and left it near the door while she fetched her hair ribbon and shoes. 

“You are all so kind to me, but I have to find my father. I’ll come back if I can, I promise,” she said and secured her hair with the ribbon. She picked up the satchel, and, after one last look around her room, bolted down to the stables to find Philippe.

In moments she had him saddled and booted him into a  gallop out of the castle gates. Behind her, she heard Beast’s roar echo in the night and she couldn’t stop the tears that fell from her eyes, flying past her as she sped towards the forest. She regretted her words in the West Wing when Beast said she was no longer a prisoner. She knew she was not forcibly kept there, knew that Beast would have let her leave if she chose, but she was so startled to hear him telling her to go, the words just came out.

I’ll apologize when I get back, she assured herself and forced herself to concentrate on finding her father.

Unsure of where to look, she headed in the direction of the village, hoping to come across footprints in the remaining snow patches that would guide her to him. The longer it took, the faster her heart beat in terror, knowing that the time she spent looking could be crucial moments for her father.

“Papa!” she called into the trees, hoping no wolves would hear her. Now that spring had arrived, food would be less scarce and hopefully they would leave her and her father alone. 

Perhaps an hour later, Belle finally spotted human tracks in the snow. She followed them and gasped when she saw her father sprawled on the forest floor, just had the mirror had shown.

“Papa!” she cried and dove off Philippe to kneel at his side. He was breathing, to her immense relief, but his skin was hot with fever. She called to him gently, shaking his shoulder to rouse him. He moaned and shifted and Belle sighed in relief at the movement, little thought it might be. 

She stood and led Philippe close to her father’s side and bid the great horse to kneel. She managed to rouse her father enough to coax him onto the horse’s back. Philippe stood easily with his new burden and Belle lightly vaulted into the saddle behind her father, holding the reins on either side of his body to keep him from sliding off.

Belle glanced back over her shoulder in the direction of the castle. He would be safe and warm there, with plenty of eyes to look after him. She was sure Beast would let her care for him there. But the village was so much closer to them now, and she needed to get her father warmed up as soon as she could. It was still with a heavy heart that she turned Philippe towards the village, wishing vainly that her father had made it just a bit closer to the castle to justify going back.

It took three quarters of an hour of careful riding for them to come in sight of their cottage.

It seems so small, she mused to herself as they drew closer. Not just in size, but as though it wasn’t enough to hold who she was now. She slid off the horse and helped her father do the same, rousing enough so Belle could lead him inside under his own power.

Once inside, Belle removed her father’s damp clothes and slid his nightshirt over his head.

“Rest, Papa,” she said softly as she put him to bed. She wasn’t sure if he heard her, but he was able to climb under the covers. Before he lapsed into unconsciousness again, she gave him something to drink and made sure he was warm.

Belle drew a chair by his beside, putting cool cloths on his forehead to bring his fever down and tried not to remember how Beast had done the same for her when she had been so ill.

____

It was late when her father finally woke. Belle was just thinking longingly of sleep when her father moaned her name and his eyes flickered open.

“Shh, it’s all right, Papa. I’m home,” she reassured him, glad to see him finally awake and aware of his surroundings, but surprised to discover that what she said was a lie. This place was no longer her home; her home was elsewhere, hidden deep in the forest. 

“I thought I’d never see you again!” Papa exclaimed and sat up to embrace his daughter.

“I missed you so much,” Belle said, returning the embrace eagerly. The cottage might not be her home any longer, but she would always have it with her father.

His skin still burned with fever and his cough had not yet gone, but he was alive and would get well again.

“But the Beast!” he demanded, gently pushing her away by the shoulders to look at her. “How did you escape?”

Belle sighed, knowing this would be difficult to explain.

“I didn’t escape, Papa. He let me go.”

“That horrible beast?”

“But he’s different now, Papa,” she insisted, taking his hand. “He’s changed. I know it’s hard to believe, but he’s not the same creature who locked you away. He’s good and kind, and so unsure of himself.” 

Her mind drifted to just a few hours ago when she had danced with Beast. His paws had been shaking, but he followed her lead just the same. Her heart fluttered as she remembered the feel of his hand around her waist and felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she recalled her spontaneous act of leaning into his embrace, his heart beating gently in her hear. She would give the world to return to that perfect moment.

“Everything seems to have changed here, too,” she added, coming out of her thoughts to look around the familiar cottage that no longer fulfilled her longings of home. “It’s as if…as if my childhood dreams are no longer what I want.”

Papa gave her a long look, his expression neutral while he figured out what to say. She waited, heart pounding, wondering if she had betrayed him after all.

“It seems to me,” Papa said, giving her a knowing smile, “that there’s been a bit of a change in you, too. You’ve always been a dreamy thing, but now there’s a new light in your eyes. If this Beast is really who you say it—he is, I suppose I’ll believe you. I don’t understand it, mind, but you’ve never been wrong before about someone’s character.”

Belle smiled at her father, not sure what he meant by finding what she was looking for, but glad he accepted her defense of Beast. She was actually surprised she won him over so easily, knowing what Beast had done to him, but she wasn’t about to argue. 

Before either of them could say anything more, a strange rustling came from the satchel Belle had placed at the end of her father’s bed. They watched it move and wiggle until it tipped over and burst open, spilling out the magic mirror and Chip along with it.

“Hi!” the little teacup exlaimed once he had stopped spinning.

“Oh, a stowaway,” Belle laughed as Chip bounced his way up the bed and into Papa’s hand. She was concerned about what Mrs. Potts would do when she found her son was missing, but Belle couldn’t help but think of Chip’s presence as the perfect excuse to return to the castle soon.

“Why, hello there, little fella. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again,” Papa chuckled. Apparently, they had met before, which made Belle smile. The teacup grinned at him, but soon put on a very serious face and turned towards Belle. She tried to restrain her laughter since it was evident Chip was trying to look dignified, but it was hard to take the teacup’s expression seriously. That is, until he began to speak.

“Belle, why’d you go away? Don’t you like us anymore?”

Any semblance of a smile was wiped from Belle’s face as she tried to think of a response the teacup would understand.

“Oh, Chip, of course I do. It’s just that…”

She was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Now would could that be at this hour?” she wondered out loud. “Stay inside, you two. Especially you, Chip,” she directed, terrified what might happen if he was discovered. Chip nodded and hopped onto the nightstand to hide behind the lamp.

Convinced he was out of sight, Belle rose and opened the door to see Monsieur D’Arque standing on the other side. Confused at what it could mean to have the asylum owner at her door, she tried to keep her voice stead. “May I help you?”

“Good evening, mademoiselle. I’ve come to collect your father.”

Chapter Text

“What?” she demanded. What would the owner of the asylum want with her father?

“Don’t worry, mademoiselle,” he said smoothly, sounding more menacing than reassuring. “We’ll take good care of him.” He moved to motion to a rough, enclosed wagon behind him with bars on its windows and doors. Surrounding the wagon were many of the villagers, holding torches aloft, illuminating her property with an eerie glow.

“My father is not crazy!” she fumed, her hands balling into fists in her rage. How dare her neighbors come to threaten her and her father. What was the meaning of this?

“He was raving like a lunatic,” Lefou put in from where he stood at the base of the steps. “We all heard him, didn’t we?” His question drew resounding cheers of assent from the crowd and Belle realized what must have happened.

Her father returned to the village, understandably thinking that she was locked in the dungeon of a monster’s castle. He would have wanted to save her, but when he inevitably described Beast…well, who could believe such a thing without proof?

“No,” she said, waving away the men from the asylum who approached the house. “I won’t let you.”

“Belle?” she heard her father’s voice call from the doorway and Belle inwardly groaned, wishing her father would have listened and stayed out of sight.

“Maurice!” Lefou greeted him, grinning slyly. “Tell us again, old man. Just how big was the beast?”

“Papa, it’s all right,” she said, going to her father’s side, trying to shoo him back into the house.

“Well, he was enormous!” Papa replied, pushing past Belle to answer Lefou. “I’d say at least eight, no, more like ten feet!”

Belle knew that what he said was true, but it wasn’t going to keep him from being dragged away by the mob. As she predicted, the mob laughed and D’Arque motioned for his men to take her father.

“No!” she cried and grabbed hold of D’Arque’s arm. “You can’t do this!”

“It is done,” he snapped and jerked his arm out of her grip.

“Poor Belle. It’s a shame about your father,” a familiar voice oozed from behind her. She turned to see Gaston leaning against the house, half-hidden in shadow. She and Gaston had never been on the best of terms, but surely he might be able to do something to stop the mob.

“Gaston, tell them my father isn’t crazy,” she asked, stepping up to him. If he said so, it would be true in the villager’s eyes. 

“I might be able to clear up this whole unfortunate incident. If…”

“If what?” she asked, not sure she liked where this conversation was going.

“If you marry me,” Gaston said simply, grinning at her.

“What?” Belle was disgusted. It was blackmail. He would try to force her into marriage to save her father? Then he must have been the one behind the mob, behind D’Arque showing up unannounced, behind it all. 

“One little word, Belle. That’s all it takes,” he cooed, pulling her close to him, taking her chin in his hand so tightly she could not move, and forced his lips against hers. His breath reeked of beer and she did not bother to hide her disgust.

“Never,” she spat, pushing him away, making him stumble as she caught him off-guard.

“Why you—” he said and raised his hand above his head, but a few gasps from the people nearest him made him stop. If he struck her, he might lose the support of the people. His hand lowered and he chuckled. 

“Have it your way,” he said, motioning one hand carelessly towards the wagon her father was being forced into.

Frantically, she sought a way to save her father, to stop this injustice, to get the villagers to leave them alone. The mirror! She dove back inside and grabbed hold of the mirror, ignoring Chip’s questions but sparing a moment to remind him to stay inside. 

“My father’s not crazy and I can prove it!” she called to the crowd. “Show me Beast!” she asked the mirror and turned its face to shine upon the mob. The villagers gasped and screamed, one woman even fainted, but Belle could only hear Beast’s miserable roars coming from the mirror. He was in such pain, pain that she had caused. 

“Is it dangerous?” someone called out.

“Oh, no! No, he’d never hurt anyone,” she insisted, climbing down the stairs to talk to the mob, meeting as many eyes as she could, trying to get them to see there was no threat.

“Please, I know he looks vicious, but he’s really very kind and gentle.” She turned her gaze back to the mirror, looking upon Beast’s image fondly as she spoke. “He’s my friend.”

But for the second time that night, she found she was lying to herself. ‘Friend’ was not the right word to describe him. He was so much more. Before she could properly name it, though, Gaston grabbed hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had feelings for this monster,” he scoffed and Belle thought for an instant she saw jealousy in his eyes.

“He’s not the monster, Gaston. You are,” she spat angrily and jerked out of his reach. Gaston’s blue eyes gleamed with fury, cold and unfeeling where Beast’s were gentle and deep. 

“She’s as crazy as the old man!” Gaston announced to the mob, forcing the mirror from Belle’s hands. It was in that moment Belle realized what she had done. She had shown a skilled hunter, an arrogant, dangerous man, the ultimate prey. She had just sacrificed Beast’s safety to save her own father.

As Gaston moved about the crowd, showing Beast’s image to everyone he passed and telling monstrous lies about him, Belle tried to console the crowd. She insisted that Beast was kind, that no harm would come to any of them, but Gaston had their hearts and minds in his own spell. Nothing she did made a difference, her voice drowned out as Gaston called for Beast’s head.

“I won’t let you do this!” she hissed and turned to bolt through the crowd, desperate now only to get to her horse. Papa would be all right, especially once she told Beast what had happened, but she needed to warn Beast what she had done before it was too late. But the crowd formed a wall before her and Gaston took hold of her wrist before she could struggle through. Belle struggled against his fingers, but his grip was like iron and would not budge.

“We can’t have you running off to warn the creature,” he said, his eyes gleaming with anger and the thrill of the hunt she had unknowingly provided him. “Bring the old man!” 

Gaston forced Belle unceremoniously into her own cellar after her father was tossed in, closing and locking the heavy wooden door. Belle tried to force the doors open, but it was useless. She could only listen as the sounds of the angry mob drew further and further away, doubtless to find the castle and her Beast. They were going to kill him, and it was all her fault.

Chapter Text

Beast turned to look out at the forest again, gasping from his fit of agony-driven rage. The clean, elegant room was not fit for a monster, which was all he had become now; it was all he had left. Now the broken furniture and torn drapes mirrored his shattered, beastly heart once more. The suit he wore that evening lay in tatters in a corner and he replaced it with his old trousers and cloak, knowing he was fit for little else now. But some part of himself convinced him to also put on a white linen shirt, keeping some part of his humanity in place even now.

As he caught his breath, the angry despair began to wash away, leaving him with only crippling sorrow. It was with disinterest, therefore, that he watched as a mysterious glow amongst the trees grew closer and closer to the castle. For a moment, he dared to hope it was Belle returning to him, but the glow was far too large to be from a single torch and the small hope died.

A few more minutes proved him right; it was the light of many torches, carried aloft by dozens of men marching towards the castle. He could hear their shouts from his elevated position in the West Wing and knew they had come to kill him. He didn’t know where they came from or why they had chosen this night to come, nor did he care, but he welcomed their endeavor to murder a beast.

He turned his back on the approaching mob to watch over the enchanted rose and sighed heavily. He was at peace, indeed almost grateful, with the knowledge that he would die soon at the hands of these unknown men. There was nothing for him in this world now that Belle had left him to his doom; for the last petal to fall, to know that he had no future as anything but a lonely beast, would be more than he could bear. He only hoped the men wouldn’t harm his servants.

Soon, a series of thuds echoed through the castle as the men tried to beat down the door. He prayed for them to hurry; there were only a few petals left and he didn’t think he could bear to watch the last one fall.

_____

Belle flew through the forest on Philippe, pushing her horse as fast as she dare. The mob had quite the head start now and she was desperate to catch up before anything happened. If only her father hadn’t come with her; he was still so ill, this trip would surely only make it worse. And he was an added weight which slowed them down on a night where speed was everything. He had insisted on coming along though, and Belle didn’t have the heart to part from her father again.

She was glad, at least, of her father’s habit to keep a spare set of clothes in the cellar, normally used to replace those he ripped or burned while working on his inventions. His nightshirt would have given him little protection from the still chilly night air, but with a proper suit of clothes he would be a little warmer. 

She coaxed Philippe into going faster, careful to keep her father upright in the saddle and the satchel which contained Chip and the mirror from bouncing too harshly against her father’s side. That brave little teacup; he was so clever to have used her father’s invention, still on the cart outside where she had left it, to break them out of the cellar. She would have to remember to praise him later, once this madness was over with.

____

It had begun to thunder, the rain pouring down in sheets. Bleak weather for his broken heart. Beast paid little attention to it, though, watching as yet another petal fell from that terrible rose. The petals were falling faster now; time was running short.

“Pardon me, Master,” Mrs. Potts’ voice echoed through the mess he had again created of the West Wing.

“Leave me in peace,” he moaned, gazing at the last petals clinging to the rose’s stem. 

“But sir, the castle is under attack!” she pleaded with him. 

“It doesn’t matter now. Just let them come.” He delicately placed a paw on the bell jar that protected the rose. Nothing mattered now.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Potts said and he heard her hasty retreat.

He listened as the doors below finally buckled under the force of the mob’s efforts. All went quiet for a moment, then the unmistakable sounds of battle began. Beast could not help a small smile at the sounds; after all this time, after everything he had done to them, his servants still protected the castle. He was honored to have them by his side all these years and he wished bitterly he could have freed them from the curse they did not deserve. But it was too late now.

Two petals remained, clinging stubbornly to the stem. Unable to watch them fall, to watch his doom become final, he moved away to the window to watch the rain instead. Despair had robbed him of his strength to stand and he sank miserably onto a chaise lounge that still remained intact. Selfishly, he wished he had kept the mirror so he might have a last glimpse of Belle, but he knew his broken heart could not have withstood the added pain of seeing her image and not having her there with him. 

As the muffled sounds of the battle below intensified, Beast heard the doors of the West Wing creak open. Turning uninterestedly, he saw a man standing by the door, illuminated by the light from the hall, a bow fitted with an arrow and ready to shoot.

What are you waiting for? he silently asked the man and turned away with a moan. He hoped this man would hurry up and end his grief.

____

As they finally neared the castle, Belle saw several members of the earlier mob run past her back to town.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, hoping one of these frightened men would tell her what had happened to her Beast.

“They’re alive!” they hollared, wide-eyed with terror as they bolted past Belle. “Run! The things are alive!”

Belle smiled grimly. The servants were fighting back. And none of the men were screaming about a beast, so perhaps he was safe.

Wasting no more time, Belle pushed Philippe towards the castle gates. Her poor horse was gasping, but they were almost there. They crossed the bridge with one last push and Belle reined Philippe in. Signs of battle were all around her; unconcious men were lying across broken chairs, but the battle was quieting as the men retreated. 

Before she could dismount and go inside to find Beast, a familiar, chilling laugh echoed from above. She looked up to see Gaston, unmistakable in his red leather jerkin, on the rooftop nearly a hundred feet above her head. A cudgel was in his hand and he was steadily moving towards a mound at his feet. The mound groaned and shifted slightly and Belle realized it was Beast who Gaston was preparing to strike.

“No!” she screamed in horror. “No, Gaston don’t!” 

Gaston brought the cudgel down and Belle started to look away, unable to watch her Beast die. But Gaston’s attack was stopped suddenly as Beast’s paw rose up and caught hold of it. He stood with a growl that reached even her ears and Belle could see his will to fight had returned.

Without any further hesitation, Belle slid from her horse and ran through the rain and inside the castle. The servants were scattered around the room, but at a quick glance none seemed seriously hurt. She hurried through them, her only thought was to get to Beast as quickly as possible and stop Gaston. 

She climbed the stairs as swiftly as she could, her legs burning with the effort but she refused to stop until she reached the West Wing. She could only hope she wouldn’t be too late. 

____

Beast rose to face the man, standing to his full height and watched as the man’s mocking face turned to one of terror. Belle’s return had returned to him his strength, his will, his desire to see Belle once more.

Her words echoed in his mind: Gaston, don’t! 

So this was Gaston, the monster who had tormented Belle and haunted her nightmares. This man would pay for what he had done to Belle, with his life if necessary. 

He struggled to tear the cudgel out of Gaston’s grasp. This man was strong but, even with the broken arrow in his back, Beast was so much stronger and he ripped the makeshift weapon away. The man slid down the side of the rain-slick roof and Beast dove at him, sending them both hurdling through the air until they met the next rooftop with a bone-jarring smack.

They tumbled down the slick surface until they hit a ledge. Gaston landed underneath him and the man was able to throw him off, but Beast hid amongst a row of gargoyles and waited for him to pass, catching his breath. He hadn’t fought like this in some time, and it was taking its toll on him; fighting a man with strategy and cunning was much different than battling a pack of wolves.

Gaston picked up the cudgel again and began slowly making his way past the stone figures.

“Come on out and fight!” he called, looking from side to side. Beast made no move except to slide further into the shadows. 

“Were you in love with her, Beast? Oh, that’s a good one,” Gaston continued mockingly. “Did you honestly think she’d want you when she had someone like me?”

The man’s words angered him, but not in the way he intended. Beast knew Belle held no love for this cruel man, but his anger grew at Gaston’s dangerous, cocky persistence.

Gaston passed his hiding spot and Beast eased out behind him. He growled, purposefully making a noise so Gaston would turn back around. Gaston whirled, swinging the cudgel, but Beast caught it in his strong jaw. They struggled for a moment and Beast realized he was losing ground. He released the cudgel and backed up as far as he dared, the edge of the roof dangerously close. 

His heart pounded in his ears; he could not let it end like this, not with Belle so close, and certainly not at the hands of this man.

“It’s over, Beast,” Gaston shouted above the rain and thunder. “Belle is mine!”

Rage boiled inside Beast at the thought of Belle in the hands of this monster. No such man would touch her; Belle deserved to be loved, not conquered as this man threatened. 

With a swift lunge, he struck Gaston, successfully disarming him and caught hold of the man’s thick throat, dangling him over the side of the castle.

Instantly, the man’s cockiness turned to terror as he begged for his life. Beast couldn’t help but get some morbid satisfaction at seeing this strong man beg so piteously. He was fully prepared to simply loosen his hand and let the man fall, putting an end to this fight and to Belle’s nightmares.

Belle. 

He realized that, despite what this man had done, she would not have wanted Beast to kill him. To do so would be cruel, and she had spent months convincing him that he was better than that. Because of her, Beast had become too human to kill this man. Slowly, he dragged Gaston back onto the ledge.

“Get out,” he growled and tossed him aside, done with this man’s foolishness.

“Beast!” he heard Belle’s voice call to him from above. He turned to see her standing on the balcony of the West Wing. Her mussed hair had come out of its ribbon, her cheeks were flushed, and there was a smudge of dirt on her sleeve, but he couldn't help but think that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Belle!” he called and started climbing the roof to reach her. Though it was no longer raining, the roof was still slick, but his paws managed it easily. She reached a hand towards him and he hastened his climb to reach her. 

“Belle,” he said again, more softly, so eager to touch her again and be sure she was real. When he drew close enough, he reached for her hand, enclosing it easily in his massive paw. At her touch, he knew at last that this was truly his Belle, she was really there.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just—”

“You came back,” he said in disbelief, his free paw coming up to gently cup her face. She had been trying to apologize for something, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except the fact that she was there with him again. His heart swelled, no longer painfully broken and his joy filled him till he thought he’d burst. She had come back to him.

Chapter Text

It had stopped raining, but Belle hardly noticed. All she knew was she was back with her Beast. He was unharmed, and he was with her once again; she was home. She leaned into the paw that gently cupped her cheek, feeling a gentle tightness in her chest from his touch. 

The moment was shattered when Beast suddenly roared in pain, his paw leaving her cheek to claw at the air, falling backward into empty air. Horrified, Belle lunged forward and caught hold of his cloak to try and keep him on the balcony. His left paw came down to grasp the rail, but she would not let go of his cloak, little help it might be. A chuckle echoed from behind Beast and Belle looked around him to see Gaston clinging to the lower side of the balcony, pulling his dagger from Beast’s side.

“No!” she screamed, unable to tear her eyes away from Gaston’s triumphant grin. His arm reached back to stab Beast a second time, but Beast’s frantic, agonized attempts to stay on the balcony caused him to slip. Before Belle could blink, Gaston plummeted into the shadows of the ravine hundreds of feet below the castle.

Unable to spare the time to think about Gaston’s fate, Belle helped her poor, wounded Beast over the ledge and safely onto the balcony. He tried to stand, but his legs shook and would not hold his weight. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath, his face twisted in pain. 

Belle dove beside him and quickly examined the wound in his side. Gaston’s aim was true, as a hunter’s would be, mortally wounding her Beast. Her chest was tight, tears blurred her eyes and threatened to spill, but she blinked them back.

“You need to rest. Lie down,” she suggested, covering his wound with his cloak and struggled to keep her voice steady. He did as she said without argument, a groan of relief escaping him as some of the pain eased.

“Better?” she asked, carressing his cheek with one hand as he had so recently done to her. He smiled at her, a strained, pain-filled smile, but an honest one nonetheless.

“You came back,” he said, his deep voice little more than a whisper. It broke Belle’s heart to hear how weak he was and still sound so glad to see her. 

“Of course I came back,” she replied, her voice cracking with her utter sorrow, but smiling what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she traced her fingers over his cheek, his forehead. “I couldn’t let them— Oh, this is all my fault. If only I gotten here sooner.” She knew she shouldn’t blame herself, but it was true; had she not shown Beast’s image to Gaston, had she left in time to warn Beast, he would not be dying in her arms now.

“Maybe…it’s better this way.” He was struggling to speak now as life ebbed from him, his eyes barely able to stay open. Gently, she pressed her hand to his lips to stop his words.

“Don’t talk like that. We’re together now, everything will be fine, you’ll see.” She hoped her words brought him some comfort, for they did nothing for her own. Her Beast was dying and nothing she said would make that right.

“At least I got to see you…one last time,” he said and raised his paw to touch her cheek again. Belle reached up to hold it there, the fur soft against her skin, his touch so gentle.

“Please, Beast,” she pleaded, trying to hold his fading gaze. “I’ve come home. You’re my home. Please, please stay with me.”

Despite her words, despite how much she wished for him to be all right, Beast’s eyes closed and his body went limp, his paw sliding from her cheek to fall to the stone floor.

“No!” she cried, grasping hold of his shirt and trying to rouse him, useless though it might be. “No, please don’t leave me!”

Tears streamed down her face, but she made no move to wipe them away. Her heart was breaking; she was too late to save her Beast, too late to tell him all that she needed to say. 

Hopelessly, she collapsed onto his lifeless chest, hearing no hint of the heartbeat she felt so closely just hours before in the ballroom. Knowing it was too late, that nothing could bring her Beast back to her, she whispered the words she had been longing to say but hadn’t known how.

“I love you.”

Chapter Text

Beast woke as if being dragged to consciousness from a deep sleep, groggy and confused, and stood a bit unsteadily. He went to rub his face to push the drowsy feeling away, but stopped when he caught sight of his own paws.

Except they weren’t paws…they were hands. Human hands.

He turned them over and back again, not fully understanding that he was controlling them, that they were his own hands. But they responded to him as hands should and he slowly realized that his face, his hands, his chest…he was human. But how?

Belle!

He whirled around to look for her, to convince himself this wasn’t all just a dream. She was there, to his immense relief, standing on the balcony with him, looking extremely confused but very much real.

“Belle,” he said and put his hands to his chest in surprise. His voice was so much different now coming from human-sized lungs. “It’s me,” he insisted and took her hands in his own, noticing how perfectly they slid together now, his paws—hands—no longer completely overwhelming hers.

He watched as her expression tilted slightly into one of uncertainty and his heart started pounding, praying that she would believe him. He stood extremely still as Belle’s hand cautiously came up to run through a lock of his hair. He had to let her see the Beast within this man he had become. As she looked up to finally meet his eyes, he watched her face lighten with realization.

“It is you!” Her words were music to him, almost unable to believe that she was able to see into his soul as easily as she had. But this was Belle; if anyone could overcome such odds, it was she.

He smiled as her hand moved to caress his cheek and raised his own to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face, the silkiness of it more pronounced on his skin than it had been with fur. He found he could not break her gaze, nor did he want to, her beautiful hazel eyes were holding his own so strongly.

Unsure what he was doing but knowing it felt right, he leaned closer to Belle, his heart thudding so loudly in his chest he was afraid she might hear it. But Belle only closed her eyes and lifted her face to his. 

Encouraged by this, Beast leaned closer, closing his eyes but opening them briefly at the last second to check his direction before their lips met. All his nervousness was forgotten as lightning shot through him at the touch of Belle’s lips on his. A swirling wind seemed to entice them closer together and he obliged, catching her more tightly in his arms and feeling her arms tighten around his neck at the same time. 

When they broke apart, his mind and heart reeling, he couldn’t help but notice that the castle around them had changed. But if he was human again and the castle had been set to rights, that only meant…

As if to answer his unasked question, Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts came bounding out into the shimmering stars that fell from the clear morning sky, one by one all returning to their human form. His heart threatened to burst with his happiness; the enchantment was broken!

He embraced his three loyal servants, his dear friends, and heard the distant cheers of other servants as they undoubtedly returned to their former selves as well.

Unable to contain his joy, feeling as though he would burst with it, he turned back to Belle and lifted her by her waist to twirl her in the air, making her laugh that wonderfully beautiful laugh of hers. When he set her down, he immediately bent to kiss her again. She was his savior, his miracle, his love, and he could not bear to be parted from her again.

“You did it, Belle,” he said softly as they broke apart, smiling at her. He stayed close to her, their faces only inches apart, ready to kiss her again, this new embrace intoxicating. “You’ve saved us.”

“Have I?” she asked, her tone confused but her expression light with joy.

“Yes, my love,” he replied and his heart skipped a beat at his own daring to address Belle so. “Your courage and your love have broken the spell.”

“I think you had better explain this to me. Starting from the beginning,” she suggested, intertwining her fingers in his.

“Very well,” he chuckled and kissed her once again. “But first I’d like to check on my servants. There’s bound to be a bit of confusion just now.”

“Papa!” Belle cried, her eyes widening. “I’ve got to find him.”

“He’s here?” he asked, trying to remember if he saw the older man with Belle when she arrived, though he supposed he was a bit distracted at the time.

“Yes, and I’m sure he’s very confused just now. May we go find him?”

“Lead the way,” he said and beamed as Belle kept her hand in his to pull him back through the castle.

Chapter Text

He could not help looking around them as they moved through the castle; the West Wing had returned to its whole and proper state, the gargoyles had transformed into the beautiful statues they had once been, and all around him servants were discovering their regained humanity. He grinned at them, shaking their hands when it was offered, never remembering seeing such joy on their faces before.

“Oh, Papa!” Belle called as they came to the entrance hall and Beast directed his attention on a very confused older man. He froze, allowing Belle to slip out of his hand to embrace her father, realizing what this interaction would mean. He had imprisoned this man, treated him cruelly, and tore him away from the only family he had. How could Belle’s father ever forgive him for such a horrible thing?

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, he moaned to himself.

“Papa, I want you to meet someone,” Belle was saying and led her father to him. His heart pounded in fear now as the older man eyed him curiously. “This is—why, I don’t even know your real name!” Belle exclaimed and looked at him with a small, guilty smile. He searched his memory for an answer to this simple request, recalling with some difficulty that he had many names, as most royals did, but none that he could remember particularly liking.

“Adam,” he grunted amiably. “My name is Adam.” It was as good a name as any of those that belonged to him, and he seemed to remember that was what his mother had called him. 

“Adam,” Belle said, seeming to taste the name as she spoke. He couldn’t help but feel his heart leap as Belle said his name for the first time. 

“Papa, this is Adam. Adam, this is my father, Maurice.”

Without thinking, overcome more by instinct more than anything, Adam sank to his knees before Belle’s father and hung his head, his shame washing over him.

“I—I have to apologize to you, monsieur,” he began haltingly, unprepared for this but knowing it had to be done. “I am…was…the monster who locked you in my dungeon and took your daughter from you. There’s nothing I can say to make that right, except to try and convince you that I’ve changed. Belle has seen to that.” He dared to glance up at Belle and was encouraged by her smile to keep speaking. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I swear I will try and make it up to both of you.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment and Adam cringed, hoping this man might accept his apology.

“Well,” Belle’s father began. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but if you really are that same Beast, Belle has already done her part in convincing me to give you a second chance.”

Adam glanced up, first at Belle and then to her father, not expecting this information. Belle had spoken to her father about him? Maurice was smiling at him, the older man’s face was nearly level with his own though Adam was on his knees. 

“You have nothing to worry about, my boy.” Adam sighed with relief at his words.

“Thank you, monsieur,” he said, gratitude cousing through him. Adam stood, glad he had made peace with Belle’s father but surprised and a little unsettled that he had forgave him so quickly. 

“Papa,” Belle began, but her voice cracked and Adam was surprised to see her eyes shining with tears. She cleared her throat and spoke again. “How are you feeling, Papa?”

“Fit as a fiddle, my dear,” he said, taking a deep breath as if to emphasize his point. Adam remembered seeing his image in the mirror, so ill as to be rendered helpless in the forest and began to wonder how that could be, until Maurice added: “I don’t know what’s going on here, but it seems to be agreeing with me.”

At that, Adam felt a wave of gratitude towards the Enchantress for this; if she could heal his own wounds and return the humanity of an entire castle of servants, then it was only right that she should cure Maurice's illness as well.

“You should stay here,” he suggested eagerly. Belle raised an eyebrow at him, and he tried to rephrase his statement. “Um, I mean, I would be glad if you would stay in the castle, monsieur. In a proper room. As long as you like.” Adam tried not to glance at Belle again, but he couldn’t help looking for her approval in this.

“Aha,” Maurice said slowly. “And I suppose this invitation would have nothing to do with wanting to keep my daughter here as well, would it?” 

Adam started to stammer an apology and Belle began to try and explain, but Maurice only chuckled. “I would be happy to accept your invitation, even if it is for selfish reasons,” he said and the humor in his voice was not lost on Adam.

“Lumiere,” he called to the passing servant and restrained a smile as Lumiere glanced from him to the pretty maid just a short ways away, realizing he had interrupted something. “My friend, would you see that a room is prepared for Belle’s father?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Lumiere said with a grin and a bow. “And, may I say, it is good to see you again, monsieur,” he added and shook Maurice’s hand.

“Have we met?” Maurice asked, bouncing slightly with Lumiere’s enthusiastic handshake.

“But of course! I was the candelabra who first welcomed you here!”

“Oh! Well, hello again I suppose,” Maurice said with some confusion and Adam grinned. 

 “I promise I’ll explain everything to both of you,” he vowed, looking first to Maurice and then to Belle. “After you’ve settle in, of course. And perhaps after I have changed my clothes,” he added with an embarrassed smile, remembering he was still in the tattered garments that he had worn in his last hours as Beast. Thankfully, the Enchantress had also though to adjust his clothes enough to avoid complete embarrassment. 

When they agreed, he bowed to Maurice and smiled warmly at Belle before turning back to the West Wing, eager to shed the clothes that marked his past and to take stock of his new form.

“Beast!” Belle’s voice called after him and he turned and watched her approach. “Adam,” she corrected with a smile as she drew level with him.

“Thank you for what you said to my father. I hadn’t intended to make you feel you had to apologize, though.”

“I’m glad I got the chance,” he admitted. “It was one of the biggest things that bothered me during your stay here. I felt terrible about taking your freedom away, but to tear you away from your father…” he trailed off as he remembered Belle’s desperate cries to her father as he dragged the old man away. Truly, it was amazing Maurice had even considered forgiving him.

“You’ve changed so much since then,” she reminded him gently, her hand reaching up to trail her fingers along his jaw. “It’s not who you are now.” 

He took her hand and held her fingers to his lips. He had yet to say those three ever-important words directly to her, but she must have known, must have guessed. And yet he was terrified of her thinking him ridiculous, even now. He summoned up his courage, reminding himself that the spell could only be broken because she loved him in return.

“I love you, Belle,” he said, the words spilling past his lips before he could stop them again, and he was surprised to see the light dance in her eyes at his words.

“I love you, too,” she replied easily, with a gentle smile, and stood on tiptoe to catch his lips with her own. He would never tire of such an embrace with her. Indeed, he could hardly bear to part with her now.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised as he regrettably broke away from her, still eager for a few moments to take stock of himself. “Why don’t you show your father around?”

“I can’t wait to show him the library!” she cried, suddenly excited. 

“Perhaps you can save that till last,” Adam suggested. “I’ll meet you there and tell you everything.”

“You will?”

“What better place to tell a story?” he reasoned and brushed a strand of still-mussed hair away from her forehead, gently tucking it back in place. She smiled up at him and nodded. “I’ll see you soon then,” he promised. 

With one last kiss, Adam left her to return to her father and he made his way back to the West Wing. He could hardly believe that the spell had at last been broken, that a woman as wonderful and caring as Belle could have possibly learned to love him, and thankful that he had found the courage to love her in return, with all his heart.

Chapter Text

Belle gave her father a tour of the castle, of the room she had been staying in, her favorite sitting room, the one with a wall full of windows, the dining room where she and Beast had nearly all their meals, everything she could think of to show him how well she had been treated. On their travels through the halls, Belle couldn’t help but remark on how drastically the castle had changed; even the statues in the halls had transformed from gargoyles to beautiful sculptures. 

The halls were also filled with celebrating servants; those that weren’t in the kitchen or servants’ hall were fairly skipping down the halls on their way to embrace their friends and comrades. And everyone she came across greeted her with wide grins and words of gratitude, though she wasn’t quite aware of what she had done to deserve it.

“By the look on your face, you’ve got as many questions as I do,” Papa said with a chuckle. “Maybe we’d better meet your young man and get the full story.”

“He’s not ‘my young man,’” she protested, but turned towards the library just the same. “Wait till you see the library, Papa. I never dreamed there could be so many books in the whole world, let alone one room.”

“My, my,” Papa said when they entered the library. “This should keep you busy for what, a year maybe?” Belle laughed and looked around at the hundreds of shelves that surrounded them.

“More or less,” she agreed with a grin. “We spent many hours in here already.”

“We?”

“Beast—Adam and I. He likes when I read to him,” she said, glancing at the table where he had been so recently reading to her instead. Was that truly just yesterday?

“That sounds nice,” Papa said, but Belle couldn’t figure out his tone. Did he disapprove? If so, then why did he forgive Adam so easily when he had apologized?

“What is it, Papa?” she asked. She couldn’t bear it if there was something amiss with her father, especially if it concerned Adam.

“It’s just—-it’s all so grand. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come home.” His tone was jovial, as if he was joking, but his expression was flat, unintentionally hinting at his true meaning.

“Papa,” she gasped, horrified he could even think such a thing. “Papa, that’s not true. I had given my word that I would stay. That was the condition we agreed on. The fact that we had become friends did not change that. Besides,” she added, “if I’m entirely truthful, I liked who he was becoming.”

“No, I’m sorry, my Belle,” Papa said, coming over to her and taking her hand. “I’m glad you were so well taken care of. You know I am. I was just worried about you so. I wish I could have known you were well. I never stopped charting maps, trying to find my way back. I couldn’t remember the way. I even tried to get someone to believe me and help get you back. The snows kept me from trying for some time, though.”

She knew he didn’t say these things to make her feel guilty, but she thought about him pacing in their cottage, fearing the worst for her while she was taking walks in the snowy garden and reading leisurely with Beast.

“I love you so much, Papa. I wish there had been a way to tell you, a way to let you know I was well. A letter maybe?”

“I’m not sure I would have believed a letter. I would have thought it was him playing a trick, or one of the servants trying to be kind. Either way, I wouldn’t have accepted it as truth.”

“I think some part of me must have known that, to not even try,” she mused. Papa wouldn’t have been satisfied unless he had heard the truth of her stay from her lips alone, and that would have been impossible at the time.

“What matters is you’re safe and sound, and we’re together again. Now,” he said, clapping his hands together, “tell me which of these lovely armchairs is the comfiest.” 

Belle laughed and pointed out the chair closest to the fireplace, hoping that everything was all right now. Perhaps he just needed to get that off his chest, to address it to let it go. She hoped, for she could not bear the shame.

____

Adam returned to the West Wing quickly, eager to rejoin Belle as soon as he could. After all that had happened last night, he wanted to be by her side, but he also needed a few minutes to collect himself. 

He entered the West Wing, prepared to change and return to Belle, but something caught his eye by the balcony. The rose. He walked towards it, still beneath the bell jar where it had stood all those years. The rose had returned to its full blossom, the petals intact once again, except it no longer glowed with the enchantment. All it did was hover a few inches off the surface of the table, otherwise, it seemed a perfectly ordinary rose. 

Curious, he lifted the bell jar off the flower and dared to brush one finger gently against the petals. They were silky soft against his skin and showed no sign of falling. He watched for several long minutes to be certain, but the petals didn’t even waver. It was just a reminder of what had been, he supposed, and wasn’t quite ready to decide how he felt about that. He replaced the bell jar and turned away to sit on the edge of his bed and took a deep breath.

“I’m human,” he said aloud to himself, trying to make himself understand that this was all real. “My name is Adam, and I’m human.” As he said his own name, he couldn’t help but recall with a smile that Belle had called him by his name just a few minutes ago. Hearing her say it made him feel more human than his own feeble attempts.

Intent on rejoining Belle without further delay, he stood and walked over to the nearest wardrobe, hoping to find something more suitable than the tattered clothes of the Beast. His path led him past a mirror that stood on a dresser and caught sight of his own image. Startled by the flash he saw of the unfamiliar human, he stopped to take a closer look.

His features were relatively similar to his boyhood form, specifically the auburn hair and blue eyes, but his face had thinned, his jaw was more pronounced, and his chest and shoulders were considerably more broad. Not to mention he was several feet taller than his eleven-year-old counterpart. He was a man now, no longer a small, self-centered boy. 

His stomach tightened uncomfortably at the thought of his childhood. He was so selfish, so cruel to everyone; it was no wonder the Enchantress had placed that curse on him. Adam hoped that this man he had become was nothing like the child he was. With Belle by his side though, he was confident nothing like that could happen.

Wasting no more time, he discovered the green coat he had ruined with porridge as Beast, clean and perfectly fit to his new size. In fact, all of the clothes in the wardrobe seemed to have altered to fit his human body and his shook his head in wonder at the Enchantress’ attention to detail. 

He dressed, discarding his torn clothes in a pile before deciding that a prince should keep his room tidy. Beast had not cared about the state of the West Wing, but he was no longer the Beast. So he picked up his tattered clothes and deposited them instead into a convenient basket.

Before leaving, he checked himself in the mirror to make sure he was dressed acceptably. Looking in the mirror was a strange act to him; he had not willingly done such a thing in years, barring the previous night while he was preparing for dinner with Belle. Rarely did he want the painful reminder of what he was. Now, he wanted to present himself to Belle as a gentleman; he had tried his best as Beast, but he hoped as a man he could do better.

He straightened his jacket one last time and started to head towards the door, but realized the floor was cold beneath his feet. He looked down at his still-strange toes and realized that a human man needed shoes.

Quickly, he went back to the wardrobe and pulled on a pair of black boots, squirming his toes against the unfamiliar feel of the leather. Stockings. He removed his boots, found a pair of stockings to slip over his feet, and replaced the boots. Much better. 

He stood and took a few unsteady steps, accommodating the slightly constricting feel into his stride. It took a few turns around the room to be able to step normally again. 

All right, he said to himself and went through a mental list of all that human men needed to wear. Considering himself prepared, he strode once again towards the doors of the West Wing and successfully into the hall before he ran into Mrs. Potts, pushing her tea card towards him. He paused, unused to seeing the human Mrs. Potts. She was exactly the same as he remembered, the kind, comfortable woman who told him stories as a child.

“Hello, Master,” she greeted him as they drew closer together. “I was just coming to have a little chat with you.”

“What about?”

“The servants. They’re all in a tizzy with what’s happened, as you can well imagine. Some of them are thinking about leaving, most to find their families but some just to see a new part of the world, which I think they have every right to do after being cooped up here for so long. I think it would help a great deal if you would speak to them, to all of us, before they go.”

“They want to leave?” he asked, surprised and slightly worried that he might end up alone in his castle.

“Only a few, Master. Many of them had family in the surrounding towns and wish to see them again.” Adam nodded slowly, trying to imagine how they felt and only succeeding in feeling more guilty in the process. 

“All right,” he agreed hesitantly. “But I was just going to talk to Belle and her father about…well everything.”

“Splendid idea! I’m sure she must be terribly confused, though I think she’s worked out quite a bit for herself. But I do think you should address the servants today.” Adam nodded, but felt his stomach attempt to tie itself in knots at the idea of making a speech. He hadn’t done so in a very long time and was never comfortable with crowds in the first place.

“Perhaps before lunch,” he suggested when Mrs. Potts did not make a move to leave, clearly expecting more from him. “Have everyone gather in the entrance hall, I think that might be easiest.”

“Very well, I’ll spread the word,” she said with a smile and a nod before turning back down the hall. Adam watched her go for a moment, his heard thudding at the idea of making a speech to his entire staff. With a start, he realized how delayed he was in meeting Belle and her father to divulge everything about the curse and he thought his heart would burst with so much nervous anticipation.

Chapter Text

He lingered outside the library doors, listening to the muffled sounds of Belle’s voice inside. At first he thought something was wrong with his ears; he used to be able to hear her footsteps clearly from down the hall but now he could barely hear her in the next room. It took him a moment for him to realize it was because that his ears no longer had their animal strength.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the library, searching and finding for Belle, still in her blue dress although she had tied her hair back again and washed her face since they had parted.

“Hello,” she greeted when she noticed him, her sweet smile making his heart flutter. Maurice was beside her, wearing a battered-looking suit of clothes and Adam made a mental note to have better, warmer ones made for him.

“Hello,” he said in return, nodding at Maurice as well. “Are you enjoying the tour?”

“I—well, yes,” Maurice replied. “You’ve got quite the collection here.” Adam chuckled appreciatively and glanced around at the shelves. 

“Would you like to explore a little more?” he asked, trying to put off the moment when he would have to tell them what happened.

“I think you promised us a story,” Belle said, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, silently saying that she knew what he was trying to avoid and that it wouldn’t work. 

“Let’s—let’s sit,” he suggested, motioning quickly to the chairs by the fireplace and hid his shaking hands behind his back. He allowed Belle and Maurice to sit first, choosing between the armchair and the sofa. Adam silently wished to sit beside Belle on the sofa, needing her strength to get through the tale he needed to tell, but would have understood if Maurice wanted to remain close to his daughter. To his selfish joy, however, Maurice had chosen the armchair and Adam was free to sit beside Belle. He was comforted by her nearness, but still dreaded divulging his past. Adam sat in silence for a moment, twisting his hands together, wondering how to begin.

“Adam?” Belle said and placed her hand over his, halting their nervous movements. Adam looked up to meet her eyes. “It’s all right. You can trust us. We just want to know what happened,” she said softly, her words washing over him and calming him enough to take a breath.

“I—I was a very selfish child,” he began haltingly, hoping that Belle would keep her hand holding his own. It gave him strength to feel her so close to him. “I was the oldest, the heir to my father’s title, so I was allowed to do what I wanted. I’d rather not go into detail about that.” He cringed at the very thought of relating to Belle what he had done as a boy. 

“But you can be sure it wasn’t good,” he continued. “My mother was the only one who could control me. She was the one—the one who taught me to play the piano. It was the only thing that would keep me calm for any length of time.” 

He glanced at Belle again and saw the light of understanding in her eyes. She nodded in what he could see as recognition of the incident between them and the piano and motioned for him to continue.

“She died of scarlet fever when I was eight. Along with my little sister.” He heard Belle gasp at the mention of his sister, but she said nothing and he continued on, eager to pass this part of the tale. “My father ran away to our town home we owned to get away from the memory of them, I suppose, but left me here. Mrs. Potts tried to fill the void left by my family when they had all gone. She would tell me stories, comfort me when I had nightmares, even though she had her own small son to take care of and had just lost her husband to the fever. I owe her so much for those years,” Adam trailed off and was lost for a moment in gratitude and shame for Mrs. Potts’ unwavering good nature in the light of all that he had done. A small squeeze of Belle’s hand brought him back to the present and he took a breath to continue. 

“There was a Christmas celebration the year I turned eleven. The servants put everything together to please me, but I still demanded gifts from them.” Adam felt his heart contract in shame at how he had treated them. “I was furious when the celebration was interrupted by an old beggar woman, banging on the door in the middle of a snowstorm. I answered the door myself because I knew the servants wouldn’t punish whoever interrupted my night. The woman at the door, an old woman whom I thought very ugly at the time, offered me a rose in exchange for shelter from the storm, but I was so disgusted by her I slammed the door in her face.” Adam closed his eyes against what he had to say next, unwilling to say it out loud but wanting Belle to understand.

“There was a great light and the doors flew open by themselves to show a beautiful woman hovering several feet above the ground, bathed in light. I realized I had made a horrible mistake and tried to beg for forgiveness from the Enchantress, but she cursed me for having a heart with no love and transformed me into the Beast. She said that until I learned to love someone and earn their love in return, i would be doomed to remain a beast. But I only had till the year I turned twenty-one, before the last petal of the rose fell, otherwise I would remain a beast forever.”

“The rose in the West Wing,” Belle interrupted. “That was your time-keeper. So when I went to touch it…” she trailed off and Adam watched her connect all the facts of his story. “No wonder you were so angry with me.”

“It’s no excuse. You couldn’t have known,” he said quickly.

“So you’ve been under that spell for ten years?” Maurice asked and Adam turned his gaze to the older man to nod. “How could someone curse a child? She couldn’t have known you would always be so cruel.”

“I was very awful,” he assured Maurice but appreciated the sentiment. “And I hadn’t changed, not until I met Belle. She was the first one to stand up to me. None of the servants would contradict a prince; there was no one to tell me to stop until Belle.”

“She’s always been a sensible one,” Maurice said proudly. “Doesn’t put up with much, my Belle.” Adam chuckled and agreed, enjoying the way Belle blushed at her father’s words. 

“But why curse the servants as well?” Belle asked. “What had they done to deserve it?”

“I suppose—I suppose it was because they let me become the monster I was,” Adam suggested, recalling overheard conversations of the servants discussing the very same thing while the enchantment was still on them. “Though if you ask me, it’s my father who should’ve been cursed, not them. They were only following orders. And Mrs. Potts did try.” Adam sighed and shook his head. “I wish I could give them those long years back. It’s not fair on them.”

“I know they love you. And it seems you truly appreciate them now,” Belle reassured him.

“Some of them want to leave,” he confessed, recalling his conversation with Mrs. Potts. “They want to return to their families, which I understand, but I don’t know what they’re going to say to explain all this. Mrs. Potts wants me to talk to the servants in a little while,” he said, glancing out the window at the midday sun. His story had taken longer than he thought. “And I have to figure out what to say to them.” Adam buried his head in his hands, overwhelmed by it all. It was too soon, too much, and his head was spinning.

“Perhaps we can make up some story,” Belle suggested.

“But what?” he moaned.

“You’ve been traveling,” Maurice suggested. “And—and you needed them in your retinue or whatever you call it. Perhaps they could elaborate their positions to make it more believable.”

Adam sat up and considered for a moment. It seemed a good option, but would it work?

“I think it will do,” he decided. “Thank you, monsieur. Now I just have to figure out how I’m going to stand up in front of all those people.”

“I’ll be there with you, if you want,” Belle offered, blushing again and looking up at him shyly.

“I’d like that,” he agreed with a crooked smile at her.

“Huh, well you two lovebirds better get on with it, then,” Maurice said, making both of them jump and break eye contact. “With the speech, I mean. I’m starving, and I suppose we’re not eating until after you talk to them.”

Adam grinned at Maurice and obligingly summoned Cogsworth, instructing him to gather the servants in the entrance hall.

A quarter of an hour later, Adam stood a few steps up on the grand staircase by the front door so that everyone crowded in the hall might see and hear him. His hands were shaking and his legs threatened to collapse under him with the weight of so many eyes on him, but with Belle close beside him he was able to find the strength to stay standing.

He explained to the crowd all that had happened in the past couple of days between Belle and himself (though he was almost positive everyone was very much aware of what happened at the last dinner he and Belle shared). He thanked them as graciously as he could for their service through such a hard time and, following Maurice’s advice, suggested to anyone who wished to leave that they had been traveling abroad with the prince? The crowd laughed at this, which Adam hoped was a sign they would honor his request.

“But,” he added as an idea suddenly came to him, “would you stay until the end of the week? I would be honored to celebrate the end of the curse with you all. A banquet, perhaps? And a dance?” His suggestion was met with loud cheers and smiling faces. Adam could help but beam at their happiness, a joy he easily shared. 

As the servants dispersed to make preparations for the celebration, Belle took a step closer to him and wrapped her hands around his arm. “Well done, my love,” she said softly and rested her head on his shoulder. He turned his face so he might kiss the top of her head. 

“Will you wear the yellow gown again?” he whispered into her hair. She turned to face him, a beautiful smile spread across her face, and nodded in agreement.

Chapter Text

Though she hadn’t slept in nearly two days, Belle lay in bed wide awake. She and her father ate dinner with Beast—Adam—earlier that night and she was pleased to see how well they seemed to be getting along, once Adam was able to overcome his obvious nervousness. He had even given her father a room of his own in the castle to use as a new workshop. They hadn’t seen it yet, but Adam promised it was a large stone room with plenty of ventalition and light, and Belle could only hope it was capable of holding up against any explosion her father would inevitably create. 

Her father was overjoyed with this gift and throughout dinner he and Adam discussed little else besides pulleys and levers and gears. It was a subject Adam seemed quite knowledgable about, which surprised Belle, but she was glad of this connection between him and her father.

But though things seemed to be going well, her mind kept whirring with the events of the past two days, jumping first to her evening with Beast in the ballroom, then to Adam in his beautiful green jacket telling them about the enchantment, then to the tender goodnight they had shared just a few hours ago only to flash to Beast dying in her arms just the previous night.

Belle watched again in her mind as Beast spoke his last words, saw him draw last breath. She thought she had lost him forever and it had completely torn her apart. Even now, knowing that he was alive and well, she thought she would never be able to forget how she felt in that moment. 

And then that strange transformation afterwards, witnessing Beast being lifted into the air as if he were no more than a flower petal. She watched him change, knew that her Beast had not exactly disappeared, but she couldn’t be sure it was truly him.

The soft auburn hair that was a few shades lighter than the fur she had known, the voice that was nearly the same though much less deep than that the one that had read to her, the sharp jaw and pale features all had no place in her memory. But when she saw the familiar warmth in his soft blue eyes, the warmth only her Beast’s could have, she was home.

She even spared a thought for Gaston; he didn’t deserve to die, but he did so because of his own blind jealousy and rage. Still, a life had been lost and she had been involved in the events that made it happen, and she couldn’t help but be upset by that.

What she thought about most, however, was her future with Adam. She loved him with all her heart, that could not be disputed. And she saw in his still-familiar eyes that he loved her as well. She supposed the simple fact of that being a condition of breaking the enchantment was solid proof of that. Now that her father had joined them in the castle as well, Belle was content to live her life there. What would be proper, and indeed what she hoped for with all her heart, was for she and Adam to be married.

The thought of spending her life with Adam, with her kind and gentle Beast, sent her heart beating wildly with excitement. But did he feel the same? Were the laws in place, now that Adam was a human prince once more, that would dictate who he could and could not marry?

Stop it, she scolded herself. She was being ridiculous. They had just declared their love for each other last night, for goodness’ sakes.

Giving up on sleep, she stood and opened the doors of the inanimate wardrobe to fetch her dressing gown. When Madame Armoire had become a handsome woman with dark brown hair and an easy smile, she had moved back into the servants’ quarters with the others. Belle missed her boisterous moods and wished she was there now.

“The Master is crazy about you!” she would have said, and did often say in the past couple of weeks. The thought made Belle smile, but did not ease her mind. Madame Armoire would return in the morning, but until then Belle needed a distraction. 

She donned her dressing gown, lit a candle, and softly padded her way down to the library. There had been many sleepless nights where Belle had escaped to the library. Her books distracted her from her own thoughts, whether they be about an argument she and Beast had, or about the kindness in his eyes she couldn’t quite explain to herself. 

Once inside the library, she could instantly breathe a bit better. Setting her candle on a table beside the sofa, she stoked up the fire and settle in with Grimm’s fairy tales. She found herself analyzing the happy endings between royals and non-royals, however, and had to set it aside. She picked up instead Shakespeare’s Hamlet which was new to her since she arrived at the castle, and was soon engrossed in the madness that ensued between the characters.

_____

Adam rose early the next morning, dawn lighting the sky into a delicate grey. He hadn’t slept well, finding his body strange and the mattress unfamiliar. He sat on the edge of the bed in the near-darkness for a few moments, recalling all that had happened to him in the past couple of days. 

It seemed impossible that the spell had been broken, but the bed itself had been enough to prove to him that it was true; he had not slept on a proper mattress since the night he had become the Beast, having torn it to shreds in anger at his transformation. If there was any doubt still in his mind, the cold stone that met his bare, furless feet as he left his bed was a harsh reminder.

He dressed by the light of a candle and left the West Wing to pace the halls. The servants had not woken yet so the castle was quiet, allowing him to think in peace.

What would happen now that the spell was broken and he was human? He had no idea how to be a prince, nor did he have any desire to be, but he supposed it would be harder to hide from the world now. Doubtless Cogsworth was only biding his time, waiting to pounce on Adam with a thousand reminders of his responsibilities.

Briefly, he wondered if his father was still alive so that Adam might not have to shoulder full responsibility for their lands, but that meant attempting to contact the man who had abandoned Adam to his own destruction. But if his father was alive, it might mean Adam could have the luxury of taking his time to be human again and, more importantly, learning to be human with Belle by his side.

As he passed the library, he noticed the soft glow of the fire shining beneath the doors. Knowing Belle must be inside, he opened the door and quietly crept over to the sofa by the fireplace where he could see Belle’s feet draped over the arm, her slippers lying forgotten on the floor. Adam peered over the back of the sofa and smiled.

Belle was sound asleep, the inevitable book lying on her chest, rising and falling with her breathing. Her face was turned somewhat away from him and her mouth was slightly open, a strand of hair fallen across her forehead.

He watched her breathe for a moment or two as the firelight danced across her pale skin and struggled to breathe himself. She was so lovely, so beautiful he hardly believed himself worthy of her. Belle shifted in her sleep and Adam remembered fondly that this was not the first time he had found her sleeping in the library. 

The first time, they had just had an argument over the book Belle had been reading to him. It was an epic poem called Beowulf which at first he found quite boring, but when the hero murdered the creature called Grendel as well as its mother, he found himself infuriated at the tale. Belle had argued in favor of Beowulf since Grendel was terrorizing the people, which Adam found extremely insulting given the face that he himself was a monster. He argued that perhaps Grendel wasn’t the monster Beowulf and the others said he was, but Belle was stubborn. He left in a huff and took to pacing the halls during the night, going over their argument in his head. In the small hours of the morning, he discovered the light in the library and peered in to see Belle asleep on the window seat, Grimm’s fairy tales fallen on the floor.

Their relationship was still in its early stages, tentative and uncertain, so he merely draped his cloak over her to keep her from becoming chilled, placed the book on a nearby table, and left. The next morning, she had returned his cloak with her thanks. Though they hadn’t finished Beowulf, Belle started reading A Midsummer’s Night Dream to him. He never commented on her sudden change of reading material and their argument was forgotten.

It wasn’t only late night slumbers in the library he witnessed. Just three weeks ago, there had been a terrible snowstorm that had kept Adam up most of the night, barricading windows and doors. Belle had admitted to getting very little sleep as well because of the storm. Apparently she had been helping Mrs. Potts try to calm the teacups, no small feat in the middle of the fierce storm.

Despite their exhaustion, they both agreed that they wanted to continue the book they had been reading. Adam did not want to deny her the pleasure of continuing the story on his account, but he found his eyes became heavier and heavier as Belle’s sweet voice fairly lulled him to sleep.

He woke with a start at a sudden thump and was instantly worried he might have offended Belle by falling asleep. But when he looked at her in the chair across from him, he noticed that Belle had fallen asleep as well, her legs curled under her and her head cradled in her arms on the arm of the chair. The book she was reading had slipped from her lap to fall with a thud on the floor, which was what had woken him. Adam smiled at her sleeping form before leaning his head back on the chair and lapsing once again into sleep, hoping he wouldn’t snore.

Adam brought himself back to the present as a ray of early morning sunlight coming through the windows momentarily blinded him. Provoked into moving by the light in his eyes, he knelt beside Belle and tried to find the bravery to brush the strand of hair out of her face as he was longing to do so.

Reminding himself that Belle loved him and was comfortable with him, he raised his hand and brushed aside the wayward strand, his fingers lingering on her warm cheek.

Belle’s eyes wearily fluttered open and Adam’s heart momentarily stopped, worried at what she might think having him so close. But Belle only smile sleepily at him and he grinned in return.

“Sorry to wake you,” he whispered. “It’s still early if you want to go back to sleep.” Belle nodded and Adam moved to leave her alone, but Belle took hold of his hand and drew him towards her. She sat up momentarily to lead him onto the sofa only to lie back down once he was settled, placing her head on his lap.

Startled by this sudden, unfamiliar development, he sat frozen for a moment, unsure what to do. As Belle’s breathing evened, signifying that she had gone back to sleep, Adam wrapped one hand around her stomach and with the other he lightly stroked the hair that was draped over his lap. It was bliss sitting there like that, his beloved so at peace in his presence. He found his own worries washing away as he gently ran his fingers through Belle’s hair, and he couldn’t resist drifting off to sleep. 

Chapter Text

He woke to the feeling of a light kiss on his cheek. At first he thought he was dreaming, but when he opened his eyes he found Belle kneeling on the sofa beside him.

“Good morning,” he muttered sleepily, not quite in the realm of consciousness again. 

“You didn’t sleep well, either?” she asked, moving to rest her head on his shoulder. 

“Lots to think about.” He felt Belle nod in agreement and he wondered what had plagued her sleep. Were they thoughts of him? And if so, how horrible were they to have kept her awake?

“Belle?” he started, turning so he could look at her straight on. She leaned back as he moved and looked at him curiously. Her hair was a bit tousled from sleeping, but her eyes were bright and her gentle smile heartwarming. 

“Are you happy here with me?” he asked.

“You’ve asked me that before,” she reminded him. “Just two nights ago.”

He nodded, acknowledging the night they had danced together and held each other close. He was so nervous to be in her presence that night but still determined to admit his true feelings for her. How could he forget that night?

“But that was before all this happened,” he said, motioning a hand to encompass himself, the castle, and the enchantment. “Are you happy here, with me like this, with everything you know about me now?”

“Of course,” she assured him quickly, making him sigh in relief. “I love you, Adam. You must know that. Though I have to admit it’s still hard to believe that you could be put under such a spell at all.”

“You have no idea how much you’ve changed me,” he said with a wry smile, though he had never been more serious in his life. If Belle hadn’t been so brave…he shuddered as he thought how close he had come to remaining a beast forever. Assuming he hadn’t died at the hands of Gaston, that is, which he had also come within a hair’s breath of doing.

“Adam?” Belle’s hand came up to cup his cheek and Adam’s eyes were drawn to hers. “What is it? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“How can you read me so well?” he asked, avoiding her question with honest surprise.

“Your face may have changed, but your eyes still give you away.”

Adam could see Belle was determined to find out what was wrong; he sighed heavily and looked at Belle dismally, hoping she wasn’t going to make him admit what he had done. But her gaze never faltered and it was clear she wasn’t going to let this go.

“I—I’ve destroyed lives, Belle,” he grunted and turned away from her, unwilling to see the inevitable disappointment in her eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice even, her face giving nothing away.

“I’ve done horrible things to some of my servants before the curse. Any who confronted me after my father left, any who dared to deny me my wish or simply get in my way, I threw in the dungeons like I did your father or I banished them from the castle. I was so cruel to them, Belle.”

She was silent for a long moment and Adam began to panic, thinking that he had pushed her away with this information.

“How many times did this happen?” she asked at last, her voice even and impassive, but it only made Adam more ashamed that Belle should have to control her emotions so.

“Four times. I never knew what became of the ones I banished. The ones that I imprisoned left shortly after they were released. I didn’t care to know what became of them at the time. But Belle, there’s something else, something I need you to know if you’re going to stay here with me.” His heart pounded in his ears, unwilling to tell Belle what he had done but knowing that Belle deserved the truth. 

“What’s that?” she asked.

“After my father left, I was completely alone. I had the servants, but not my family. I was just a boy, a selfish boy…there’s no excuse but I want you to try and understand, even a little.” Belle nodded encouragingly, though her expression was one of apprehension. With a deep breath, Adam continued.

“It was Christmas night, the night the castle was cursed. Everything had been going wrong that day. I was woken too early, my breakfast was wrong, my room was too cold…everything that a selfish child could pick at, I did. So by the time dinner was over, I was overwhelmed with rage. To make it worse, it was also the first Christmas my father didn’t send me a gift. It wasn’t—it wasn’t the lack of the gift itself that I was angry at, but the knowledge that he had at last forgotten me. So when the servants presented me with a book, it was only a reminder that there was nothing from my father.

“They were only trying to be kind, but it would have been better if I had gotten nothing at all. I wanted to know the name of the man who had sold them the book, this book that was the only gift I would receive since my father chose to ignore my existence. I was convinced the only way to stop that pain I was feeling was to stop the bookseller from selling another book. I ordered my guards to arrest the bookkeeper and burn his shop to ashes.”

Belle gasped and Adam hung his head, his shame coursing through him like a painful poison. But he pushed on. 

“The order was not carried out. The Enchantress decided to intervene at that point and, well you know the rest. I suppose my order had been the final straw.”

Belle was silent. When Adam dared to raised his eyes from his clasped hands, her eyes were on the floor in front of them. She hated him now; how could she feel any differently?

“I’m sorry,” he muttered haplessly and bitterly wished he could change his past, change what he had done. Belle deserved better. He stood and began to leave; of course his past was too much to be overlooked, even by someone as kind and generous as Belle. How could he ever hope to be forgiven for what he had done?

Chapter Text

Belle sat stunned for a moment, going over what Adam had just told her. He had wanted to imprison and ruin a man for selling a book?

She took a mental step back and tried to examine the other information he had provided. His father had abandoned him after the rest of his family had died, and then couldn’t even be bothered to give him a gift for Christmas. Belle tried to imagine it was out of grief for the loss of his wife and daughter, but there was no excuse for deserting his only remaining child.

Adam was a child abandoned, yes with servants and anything he could ask for, but suddenly without the love of his family, with a father who could not be bothered to acknowledge his son’s existence. It must have been horrible for Adam to know that his own father did not care for him. Such a thing would anger even the best-behaved of children. Fortunately, nothing had come of the order the heartbroken boy had given in a moment of anger.

She turned back to tell Adam that she thought she understood, but he was no longer sitting beside her. Panic washed over her as she realized he must have taken her silence badly and left.

“Adam?” she called, turning to look for him, but he was nowhere to be found. The library door nearest her stood open, so Belle sped towards the hallway, clutching her dressing gown as she ran. She had to find Adam before he convinced himself she was angry with him and locked himself away, as he so often did as Beast. He must realize that she loved him for who he was now. She hurried towards the West Wing, certain he would be there, but she didn’t get very far. She rounded a corner and was forced into stopping as she collided with her father.

“Omph!” she cried on impact. “Oh, Papa! Good morning,” she greeted him warmly, trying to catch her breath. “Don’t you look dashing in those fine clothes,” she admired, twitching the sleeve of a new suit of clothes he was wearing, trying not to look down the hall for Adam.

“I was just looking for you but I got a bit turned around. Any idea where we are?” Belle nodded in sympathy, having gotten lost quite a few times herself in the first days of her stay in the castle.

“We’re just near the library. Have you eaten yet?”

“No, that’s why I wanted to find you. I wanted—Belle, you’re still in your nightgown. What are you doing?”

“Oh, I fell asleep in the library,” she explained hastily, unsure whether she should mention the rather disturbing conversation she and Adam just had. “I was just on my way back to change. If you wait a few minutes, I’ll walk to breakfast with you.”

She decided that what Adam told her would remain between the two of them. But in order to do that now, she had to abandon her search for Adam and could only hope he would be at breakfast, though she rather doubted it if his time as Beast was any indication.

Quickly, Belle led her father back to her own room, eager to change and find Adam to apologize for her poorly timed silence. 

“I’ll just be a minute,” she assured her father as she ducked inside her room to change. She closed the door behind her and was relieved to see both Madame Armoire and Mrs. Potts chatting lightly as they set Belle’s vanity in order. Belle couldn’t think of anyone she needed to talk to more just then; if anyone could give her advice about how to mend things with Adam, it was these two.

“Good morning,” she greeted them and both women turned to smile at her. Belle sighed happily, certain that between the three of them they could figure out something to do to help her.

“Where on earth have you been?” Madame Armoire exclaimed and started tutting at the state of Belle’s hair. 

“I fell asleep in the library,” she replied and ducked away from her hands. “I actually wanted to talk to you both about something.”

“You’re going to catch your death in that drafty library,” Madame Armoire scolded. “But let’s get you set to rights while you tell us what’s troubling you.” She took the brush Mrs. Potts held out for her and motioned to the chair in front of the vanity. Belle sighed and sat, allowing Madame to fuss over her.

Belle tried to relax as Madame began to brush her hair for her. It was a bit uncomfortable having someone physically tend to her like this, but Madame Armoire seemed to be enjoying the use of her hands again, so Belle left the matter alone for the time being. She caught Mrs. Potts’ eye in the mirror’s reflection and the older woman smiled in understanding at Belle’s less than delighted expression.

As Madame Armoire combed Belle’s hair, Belle related all that had happened in the library that morning. Mrs. Potts listened quietly and prodded Madame into doing the same, allowing Belle to tell her story completely. 

“I was going to explain and apologize, but I ran into Papa and I thought it best not to tell him,” she finished as Madame finished the fastens on a lavender dress. Belle stepped away and tied her own hair into its usual tail.

“That was very brave of him to tell you those things,” Mrs. Potts said as she brushed a wrinkle out of Belle’s sleeve.

“After all, it certainly wasn’t his proudest moment,” Madame Armoire added. “I’m sure once you see him it will be all right again.”

“If he even wants to see me again,” she grumbled. “I was just so stunned; he so gentle now, I could hardly imagine him going to such lengths over a gift. I just wish I could’ve explained myself before he left.” Belle looked down at her feet and saw Adam’s fearful face as he told his story. He trusted her to be there for him, and she failed. 

“Let’s see if he’s at breakfast,” Mrs. Potts said. “Perhaps he’s learned from all you’ve done for him and realized that running away and hiding is a poor option.”

Belle nodded, though past occurences made her doubt it. It was too terrible a reaction from her for him to do anything else. As she emerged into the hall, however, she was proven wrong. Adam was waiting just outside her door, talking with her father.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, unprepared to see him there. Adam seemed embarrased, as if he wasn’t sure if he should be there. 

“At last!” Papa exclaimed when he noticed she had joined them. “Let’s go get breakfast, I’m starved!” 

But Belle didn’t move. She wanted to talk to Adam, but knew she couldn’t in front of her father, not with this. She glanced between Adam and her father and tried to think of something so say, but fortunately Mrs. Potts came to her rescue.

“Perhaps I could take you,” she offered sweetly. “I believe the Master and Belle have something to discuss.”

“Oh, I…” Papa glanced from Belle to Adam until his eyes rested again on Mrs. Potts with a rather dazzling smile. “Very well,” he agreed and held his arm out to Mrs. Potts. As she took it, Belle could have sworn that Mrs. Potts blushed. Curious about this new development, Belle watched her father and Mrs. Potts walk away for a moment.

“You, uh…you wanted to talk to me?” Adam asked, bringing her attention back to him.

“Yes. Oh, yes I did! I was so afraid you weren’t going to want to see me, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to explain myself,” she said hastily.

“I was coming to apologize to you,” he started. Belle could see he looked miserable, as if he had come against his better judgement. “I know you must hate me for what I’ve done, but it was rude of me to walk out on you.” He looked at the floor as he spoke, avoiding her eyes.

“Hate you?” she repeated in horror. So that’s what he thought of her silence? “Adam, I could never hate you! I’ve made such a mess of things again. I’m so sorry.” She took a breath to collect her thoughts, intent on setting things right between them.

“What you wanted to do to the bookseller was wrong,” she started and her heart ached as he flinched at her words, but she continued on quickly. “But you know that. What your father did to you was also wrong, terribly wrong; no one should abandon their child like he did. I also don’t agree with what the Enchantress did to you, but I’m glad of the man you grew to be as a result. You’ve changed, Adam. I love this man you’ve become. I can see you regret what you did as a child, and that alone is evidence of the kind, gentle man you are now. Now that you’ve learned to be kind, you must learn to forgive yourself and live this new life you’ve started.”

Adam finally lifted his gaze to meet her eyes and she smiled, astonished that her words had the power to comfort him now. “You are good,” she continued and gently took hold of his hand. “You have to believe that.”

“Do you believe it?” he asked as his fingers closed around hers, all his self-doubt reflected in that single sentence.

“With all my heart.” 

It was still strange for her to look into his eyes and see them surrounded by flesh instead of fur, but this was still her Beast, her Adam, and she loved him.

“So you’ll stay?” he asked.

“Of course. I’ve told you once before, and it’s still true now: you’re my home. So long as you want me, I’ll stay here beside you. No matter what.” 

Adam let go of her hand only to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close and enveloping her in his warmth. Belle returned the embrace eagerly, enjoying the feeling of safety and love encompassed in his arms. it was a familiar comfort, even if the arms that held her were no longer covered in fur. 

They stood like that in silence for a moment and Belle listened to the gentle beating of his heart.

“I will always want you here with me,” Adam said, keeping her in his arms as he spoke. “I’m sorry I walked away from you, but I was certain you hated me for what I’d done. I was afraid you couldn’t look passed it.”

“I admit I was startled by it,” she conceded, squeezing her arms a bit tight to keep him in place. “But I’m glad you told me. You can tell me anything, you know. And I promise I’ll be better at listening.” He needed to be able to open up to her, and she was glad that he was trying. She had to be better at listening and responding, that’s all.

“We should join your father for breakfast,” Adam said, finally breaking their embrace to look at her. 

“I think Mrs. Potts might need rescuing from Papa,” she added with a grin. “I haven’t seen him smile like that since my mother was alive.”

Adam chuckled and offered her his arm. “Let’s go,” he said with a smile. “Though your father could do worse.” Belle giggled and nodded, nearly giddy with the combined joy of having Adam’s forgiveness and the idea her father might be falling in love again.

Chapter Text

Sure enough, when Belle and Adam entered the small dining room, Papa was chatting to Mrs. Potts who was pouring him a cup of tea. Belle and Adam exchanged glances and joined her father at the table.

“Mrs. Potts, thank you for bringing my father here. Would you like to join us?” Belle motioned to the empty chair to her father’s right and barely suppressed a grin when both she and her father blushed.

“Oh, no thank you dear,” Mrs. Potts recovered herself. “I’ve got chores to be getting on with.”

And without another word, Mrs. Potts made a hasty exit.

“I’m glad you two have decided to join me,” Papa said. “I thought maybe you forgot about me.”

“I just needed to speak to Belle about something, monsieur,” Adam explained. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

He was so polite when speaking to her father, Belle realized. Perhaps he was still trying to win his favor after their history.

“Have you gone to see your new workshop yet, Papa?” she asked as she served him several sausages. The happy side effect of the castle’s enchantment seemed to have cured him of his illness, but she was going to make certain he kept his strength up.

“No, not yet. I was hoping to take a look after breakfast actually. I’ve just got to get my bearings. This place is massive.” Belle laughed and agreed whole-heartedly.

“It took me awhile, too. There are still some corners of the castle I haven’t found yet. Maybe Adam can show us both after breakfast?” She looked to Adam who nodded quickly in agreement.

“I don’t really know what you might need to work with, monsieur. I’ve stocked the room with supplies, but if there’s anything you require, just ask.”

“Thank you…um, sir,” her father said with a nod. “And you can just call me Maurice.”

Belle watched Adam’s face drop into an expression of surprise and he glanced at her. She lifted her eyebrows and gave him an almost imperceivable nod to indicate that Adam should return the sentiment.

“And you can just call me Adam,” he replied and Belle smiled down at her plate. Adam still needed her approval and, while she wished he felt comfortable enough to figure such things out himself, it was rather endearing that he looked to her for help.

_____

Papa’s new workshop was massive, the stone walls reaching two stories high and wider than their entire cottage had been. Tools and supplies lined the walls in neat rows; anything her father could possibly need seemed to be there.

“Oh, Papa,” she breathed and put her hands on her father’s shoulders as she stood behind him. “Papa, this is wonderful!”

Papa himself seemed speechless, staring at his surroundings with an open mouth.

“Where did you get all of this?” she asked Adam as her father began to wander the room, picking up a tool every so often to examine it.

“Well, the room wasn’t really being used and we had many of the tools already. I asked the servants to collect and polish them up,” he said with a shrug as if it was nothing.

“You’ve made him so happy,” she said and took hold of his arm as she watched her father explore. “Thank you.” Belle reached up to kiss his cheek, making Adam smile.

“I want him to feel welcome here. Especially after everything I’ve done.”

“You know he’s forgiven you,” she reminded him, but before she could say anything else, her father rejoined them with a wide grin.

“Thank you, Adam,” he exclaimed and shook Adam’s hand vigorously. “This is perfect! Now if only I had my machine here I could get to work.”

“I can have someone get it for you,” Adam offered. “It can be here tomorrow if you want.”

Papa looked surprised and Belle herself was taken aback by the kind offer.

“I should go and make sure they do it right, though,” Papa insisted and Belle grinned. Her father would never let anyone touch his inventions. 

“I’ll arrange it,” Adam promised. “There are sketchbooks on that table for now.” He motioned to a table by the one large window, allowing plenty of light into the room. Belle also noticed several lanterns scattered about that would allow her father to work into the night as he so often did.

“We’ll leave you to you work, Papa,” she offered as he bent over the sketchbook, a piece of charcoal already in his hand. “Do you remember how to get back to your room from here?”

“Yes, yes,” he said distractedly as he began to sketch.

“Come on,” she whispered to Adam and led him back out into the hall. “I’ll check on him later and make sure he does remember where he is.”

“He’ll be all right by himself?” Adam asked, glancing back.

“Of course. He’s only sketching now, anyway. It’s when he starts building that you’ll need to worry. I try not to, but I know that eventually he’ll get caught by one of his explosions.”

“Explosions?”

“Only small ones,” she insisted. “That’s why the room needed to be sturdy and have good ventilation. He’ll be fine.” Adam glanced once more towards the workshop door but only nodded. 

“Would you like to go read in the library?” she suggested. “I believe you were reading me Romeo and Juliet.”

“That seems so long ago now,” he mused as they walked towards the library together. “So much has happened since then.”

“I know what you mean. But it’s still only you and me, like it’s always been.” This seemed to drive away the remaining sorrow from Adam’s eyes and Belle was confident the event from early that morning was behind them. 

Chapter Text

“Master?” Cogsworth’s voice interrupted Adam’s when he had taken a breath between sentences. Belle jumped; she hadn’t even heard him enter the library.

“What is it?” Adam asked, turning to face Cogsworth and Belle was impressed that he was able to keep the frustration she saw in his eyes out of his voice.

“Terribly sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid—I’m afraid I must ask you to assist with some details.”

“Now?”

“If disaster is to be averted, I’m afraid so,” Cogsworth said. To Belle it seemed he was in a proper tizzy, but she doubted it was nothing more than a misunderstanding between himself and Lumiere. 

“Very well. I won’t be long,” Adam said to her, turning back to send a crooked smile her way. She watched them go and wondered how many times in the future they would be interrupted. She had a funny feeling that reading in the library together would become less of a routine and more into stolen moments between the new duties Adam would now inevitably take on. If it was to be so, and if she were to remain with him as she wished to, she would need a task to do, something of worth.

But for now, she was relegated to wandering the halls, unable to focus on starting another book on her own. If she was to have a task, an occupation, what would it be? She had always wanted to help run the bookshop in the village, but that was a bit unreasonable if she was to stay in the castle. 

There wasn’t much time to think while she wandered, though. She found that the servants were rather excited about the upcoming celebration, and they were looking to her to help. Nearly every servant she came across seemed to be seeking her out to ask her opinion on a menu detail or the color of flowers she desired. She was bewildered by all the questions, having no idea what Adam had in mind but doubted he had thought much about it, so she supposed that he would not be offended by her answering their questions.

“Thank you, My Lady,” they almost always said, which surprised her even more than the requests themselves. She decided to seek Adam out and ask him about the new title that had been bestowed on her. 

She found him in his preferred sitting room, the one just off the entrance hall, sitting in his chair and massaging his temples.

“What were they arguing about now?” she asked, making him look up.

“Whether or not we should invite the villagers, as a welcoming home party for me,” he replied, sitting back in his chair and sighing.

“And?”

“I was on Lumiere’s side, that we should keep it simply as a celebration of the end of the enchantment. And Cogsworth was outvoted.”

“Well, I’m on your side as well. To be honest, the village has earned a black mark in my book.”

“How so?” he asked and it occurred to her that she had never told him the full story of what happened after she left to find her father. That would keep for a few moments, though. First, she wanted an answer to her earlier question.

“They consider you the Lady of the castle, of course,” Adam replied when she had told him how the servants had treated her. “They have for some time, I think, but they seem to have gotten more comfortable saying it out loud.”

“But why?” she pressed. “You’re Master here. I’m just—me.”

Adam raised an eyebrow at her. “You’ve made an impression on them ever since your first night here. You’ve not been shy about giving direction.”

“I only—” she started to protest, but stopped when Adam began to chuckle. 

“I’m glad you did. They came alive again when you arrived at the castle, and you did nothing but help that along. And honestly I’m glad they’re asking you and not me. I don’t know the first thing about celebrations like this.”

“Neither do I, but I think it was a good idea. It’s just the thing they need, I think.”

“Now, tell me about what happened when you went to find your father,” he asked, motioning to a nearby chair she could not remember being there before. To her knowledge, there had been only his chair that occupied the room. Did he have it brought in for her, or had she simply overlooked it? Still, she sat and told him everything that had happened, pleased that he had taken her hand midway through her unhappy tale. 

_____

Adam was glad the servants were looking forward to the celebration and even more delighted to hear that they so easily accepted Belle’s authority, but that led back to the terrifying question of where his relationship with Belle would lead. 

He loved her more than anything and would give the world to be with her, but to do so would require courage he did not have. Not yet. The very thought of it sent his hands shaking and his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

He was able to ignore the frightening and thrilling prospect the rest of that week by focusing on getting Belle and her father settled in the castle. He was overjoyed that Belle’s father had agreed to live in the castle with him since, as Maurice had pointed out that first day of Adam’s humanity, it meant that Adam wouldn’t lose Belle again. But Adam was also eager for the chance to make up for his unforgivable behavior towards Maurice and make him comfortable. 

Maurice seemed to like his workroom, which was a good start, and Adam made sure to thank the servants who had gone to find and clean the supplies needed, but it made Adam slightly nervous when Maurice asked to retrieve his invention from the cottage. Not because it wasn’t possible, but Belle had decided she wanted to go with him. 

She wanted to fetch her things from the cottage to make her move to the castle permanent, which should have delighted him, but instead he feared that once she returned  to her home in the village, she wouldn’t want to come back. Adam tried to remind himself that she had come back to him once already and that he needed to trust she would again, but it still made him nervous to let her go. 

He was not only concerned that she might not return, but also worried for her safety. She had told him of what happened when she went back to save her father. Gaston was no longer a threat, but would the villagers be looking for revenge? Based on what Belle had told him, Gaston was quite popular amongst them and they had acted against her before. Would they connect Belle to his death and, if so, what would they do?

So he found himself asking if he could go with her.

“Oh! You—you really want to?” she asked. Belle looked surprised at his request and at first Adam was afraid she’d say no.

“I’d like to see where you live,” he admitted truthfully. It might not have been the entire truth, but it was certainly part of it. 

“Lived, you mean,” she corrected and Adam grinned. Perhaps he had nothing to fear, after all. “I’d like that,” Belle continued, her sweet smile making his heart beat faster as it always had. “But…are you going as a prince, or just as yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, now that the enchantment is lifted…we haven’t really talked about this at all. But are you going to tell the world you’re back, or do you want to try and stay hidden here? If you’re going to come with me and Papa, that’s something you should probably decide.”

“Oh. I, uh…I hadn’t really thought about it.” Which wasn’t true, of course, but he was reluctant to reveal to Belle his thoughts about his father and about her. “Can’t we…I mean, can’t I just go with you quietly and then see what happens later on? I haven’t really been with people since I was a boy and…” he trailed off, unwilling to admit he was terrified of the crowd that would gather as a result of an announcement of a prince arriving in town.

He had never been comfortable in front of crowds, and his years of near-solitude were unlikely to have made it any better, something that was made clear when he tried to give the speech to his servants just after the enchantment’s end.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. You’ve only just come back into the world, after all. There’s no need to overwhelm you. But I think you’ll have a hard time convincing Cogsworth.” Belle was smiling, but her tone was serious. Adam agreed with her; it would be difficult to convince Cogsworth to let him go to town anonymously. He was always one for pomp and circumstance, but Adam wasn’t ready for it. He sincerely doubted he would ever truly be ready to rejoin the world in such a position, but two days after he had become human again was surely too much to ask. And so they began to make preparations.

Chapter Text

Cogsworth had always been one for pomp and circumstance, but Adam managed to talk him down so he could go with Belle and her father quietly. 

The next day he, Belle, Maurice, and four strong servants loaded themselves into three wagons. Belle had helped him pick out a simple brown leather jerkin to wear over a soft cotton tunic that would blend in well with the village. 

Adam was surprised at how well the wagons seemed to have withstood the years of neglect well, though as he examined them he noticed several noticable patch jobs. Adam smiled, knowing that some of the servants must have repaired them for Belle during the night.

Belle took her place in the seat of the first wagon and together she and Adam helped her father up to sit next to her. Unwilling to be far from Belle, Adam hopped into the wagon behind them, stretching out on the hard wooden planks.

Belle coaxed the horses forward and started the small convoy towards the forest. Adam watched for a moment as the servants who had gathered at the front of the castle waved goodbye. He couldn’t resist giving a bit of a wave himself, excited to be leaving the castle and seeing something new for the first time in so long. 

“So how far is the village?” Adam asked as he turned away from the disappearing castle to watch Belle’s hair bounce with the wagon. She glanced back quickly to smile at him but resumed her duty of directing the horses through the forest.

“Not far. Maybe a little over an hour at this pace,” she replied. “I’m afraid it will take us at least a day to clear the house, though.”

“I hope my machine’s still somewhat intact,” Maurice put in. “That little teacup did quite a number on it.”

“I’m afraid it’s in quite a lot of pieces, Papa. But I know you can fix it.” Adam watched as Belle put her arm around Maurice’s shoulders and turned away to give them a moment, watching instead the two additional wagons that traveled behind them. The servants were staring around them in awe and it occurred to Adam that they had not seen the outside world in just as long as he. After being cooped up in the castle for ten years, many of them without even hands or feet, it was no wonder some of them wanted to leave.

“Adam, I meant to ask,” Belle called back to him, interrupting his thoughts. “Where did the horses come from? I thought Philippe was the only horse in the stables.”

“Cogsworth,” Adam sighed. “He doesn’t waste any time getting the castle ‘back up to snuff’ as he called it. He sent out the stablehands yesterday to the surrounding towns. He’s also already arranged for a flower delivery and for a team of carpenters to come in and make some repairs on the things he thinks the enchantment didn’t set quite right.” Adam, and probably everyone else, knew that Cogsworth was getting carried away. 

Belle raised her eyebrows. “I’m not surprised, of course. But still, he must be driving everyone crazy.”

“He’ll calm down in a couple of weeks,” Adam said, but it was more of a hope than a certainty. If he kept going at that pace, Adam feared what Cogsworth might force him into next.

The wagon broke through the tree line and Adam rose to his knees to take in his new surroundings. To his right a short distance away he could see a bridge that led to what could only be the village Belle spoke about. But what interested him most was what Belle was leading the wagons towards: Belle’s cottage.

It was a charming place build of stone and wood set away from the village. Adam could see some of the details of the house that could only have been Maurice’s work: the odd weathervane, the gears that connected some sort of windmill to something he could not see, and the rather ingenious water wheel. Adam was surprised to see how small the cottage truly was, but its gentle charm perfectly befit someone like Belle.

“Here we are,” Belle announced as she pulled the wagon up near the front door. “Let’s get to work. Would your four mind starting upstairs in the attic? If you could just pack the trunks you’ll find into the wagons, Papa and I can go through them when we have more time back at the castle.”

The servants who had volunteered to help them bowed and went to do as she asked. Adam watched a gentle blush creep into her cheeks at being bowed to; he grinned but said nothing.

“What do you think?” she asked him, motioning to the house as the servants disappeared through the front door.

“It’s beautiful,” he said honestly as he climbed out of the wagon. “It reminds me of a cottage from one of your storybooks.”

Belle smiled at his remark, but didn’t say anything, not until her father was out of earshot. 

“What is it?” he asked, worried he had upset her. She glanced at her father, currently examining what was left of what appeared to be a cellar door. 

“It can’t tell you how many times I wanted to leave this place,” she finally confessed, her voice hushed though her father could not possibly hear her. “I dreamed of adventure, something this provincial town could not give me. When we moved here from the city I was angry for being so far removed from the places I imagined I would go. Though it took several years of waiting and wishing, I never thought I had an adventure waiting for me all the way out here,” she finished with a dazzling smile at him. 

Adam’s heart fluttered, daring to believe that the adventure she spoke of was perhaps referring to him. 

“Was it worth it? The adventure, I mean,” he asked, following her towards the cottage door.

“Oh, yes,” she replied easily. “I found love, after all, which was much more exciting than I ever thought it would be. Come, I’ll show you around.” She took him by the hand and led him inside. He resolved at that moment to make sure to take her abroad, to give her the chance to see all that she wished to. Nothing would make him happier to give such a thing to her.

Chapter Text

Belle led him inside her cottage and Adam had to duck his head to avoid hitting the low frame. Once inside, it took Adam only a moment to see evidence of Belle everywhere inside the small house. The bookshelves by the fireplace, the open book that still lay on the table, even the cushioned chair all painted a quaint picture of Belle’s daily life in the village. 

It wasn’t hard for Adam to picture Belle curled up in the cushioned chair with a book or bending over the fire to make herself tea. He walked over to the open book and gently touched its dusty pages; clearly this had lain open since Belle had left.

“I’m surprised Papa didn’t put that away,” Belle said, coming up beside him and dusting the pages off lovingly.

“It was probably easier to imagine you hadn’t left that way,” he muttered. If he had been able to picture Belle sitting to read that book so clearly, what must it have been like for her father all those months staring at the book?

“If you’re going to be like that for the entire stay, I’ll send you home right now,” she said and Adam was surprised to hear a small edge to her voice. “My father has forgiven you for what you did; you need to forgive yourself now, too.” Her voice eased and she placed a hand on his arm. Only then did he dare look at her, those beautiful brown eyes never lost their kindness, even when scolding him.

“I’m sorry,” he said a bit shamefully. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Really, how did he deserve to enjoy such an embrace?

“In here’s the kitchen and the back door that leads to where we keep the animals,” she motioned to a doorway to their right.

“You have animals?”

“Just a few chickens and a couple goats. I usually leave their feed out, so they’ve probably been fine, but I’m sure they’re a bit unhappy being neglected these past couple of days.”

“Shall we check on them?” he offered, curious to see these animals.

“I suppose. Why not?” she said, sounding a bit surprised at his suggestion, and led the way out a back door. 

Adam had never seen goats or chickens up close before. They had a few of the small creatures at the castle when he was a boy, but he had never bothered with them, thinking them too beneath his notice.

The animals seemed no worse for their few days of solitude, though Belle said their feed was getting a bit low. He watched with an amused grin as the chickens frantically dove towards the seeds Belle scattered on the ground in a flurry of feathers. It was a much different sport than feeding the small wild birds at the castle; the chickens were much less graceful and more greedy to reach the seeds before the other. The goats ignored this uproar, chewing placidly on their own food and seemingly oblivious to the world around them.

“They seem to be all right to me,” Belle said as she finished spreading the chicken feed. “I’ll have to find someone to buy them before we leave. Unless you want them at the castle.”

“We might find a use for them. It might ease Cogsworth’s frantic attempts to set the castle to rights, even by just a little. If you would be willing to bring them, of course.”

“That’s something I’ve always wondered about,” Belle said suddenly, turning towards him and leaning on a post of the overhang that protected the animals. “You weren’t getting anything from the surrounding lands, since none of them knew you existed. At least, I know this village had no idea about your castle aside from a few ghost stories. But you always seemed to have anything I ever needed, at least as far as food and clothes. Where did it all come from?”

“Well, to be honest I’m not even sure myself. I think it was part of the enchantment, because whatever we needed would arrive once a week at the back entrance, where the kitchen is.”

”Well at least she didn’t leave you to starve after condemning you to that curse,” Belle said a little bitterly. Adam grunted in agreement.

”Paper would always be left with the delivery too, so whenever we needed something specific or new, Cogsworth would have a note written and posted on the back door. That’s how they started getting the material for your clothes.” 

“I remember,” she said shortly, but seemed not to want to discuss that. 

“I will never forget the way you looked that night in that golden dress,” he said, hoping to make her forget any lingering misgivings she might have about the incident with the wardrobe.

In what he considered to be a daring and perhaps even an inspired move, he slipped one hand around her waist to hold her as he had when he danced with her as Beast, the other hand gently enveloping hers. 

He was rewarded with a delicate blush in Belle’s cheeks and he began to slowly dance with her there in the yard. His heart started beating faster as he guided her in gentle, small turns and nearly burst when Belle rested her head once more on his chest, bringing him back to the moment they had shared in the ballroom. But this time, he felt a bit braver knowing Belle’s true feelings for him, and bent to gently kiss the top of her head.

“Ahem,” a voice interrupted Adam’s blissful thoughts and startled him into breaking away from Belle. Maurice stood in the yard, apparently having just come out of the backdoor in search of them. Adam was embarrassed to have been caught with Maurice’s daughter in his arms, but the old man was unsuccessfully hiding a grin.

“We should get to work if we’re going to get anything done,” Maurice said merrily and Adam nodded, unable to find his voice.

“Of course, Papa,” Belle agreed and took Adam’s hand. He barely dared to close his fingers around hers. “We’ll come help you clean out your workroom.”

Belle gently pulled him towards the cellar doors, turning every so often to smile warmly at him, a gesture which he willingly returned. But he was embarrassed about being caught in such a moment with Belle in the yard and made sure to maintain a respectful distance from her while they worked, at least while Maurice was in the room.

Chapter Text

Adam had never worked so hard in his life. Barring a few days spent mending the roof of the castle or barricading windows against storms, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so tired or so sore. Every muscle in his body ached and he cursed himself for being unable to accept that he was no longer as strong as he was as Beast. Not long ago he was able to send large pieces of furniture flying across rooms, but now he could lift nothing heavier than a small table by himself. He kept these thoughts to himself, though, and tried to ease his sore muscles in silence.

Though they had worked diligently through the day (barring those few stolen moments dancing in the yard) and had filled two of the three of the wagons, Belle’s house was not quite yet done.

“It’s just as well,” Belle said as they surveyed the wagons laden with trunks and furniture. “I should go into town tomorrow and announce that the house is open for someone new. 

“Should we return to the castle tonight?” Adam asked, though a large part of him was not looking forward to further abusing his sore muscles to the harsh bouncing of the wagons.

“I think I’d like to stay here,” Belle said, turning to look back at the cottage. Adam mimicked her and was amazed that despite all the work they had done, from the outside it was hard to tell that anything had changed. 

But Adam knew that once they went through the door, the house was nearly bare. They had even taken much of the furniture from the house at Maurice’s request so he could reuse them for his inventions.

“I think we should send the servants back tonight though, so they can bring one more empty wagon in case we need it,” he suggested, motioning to the wagons laden with chairs and trunks. “I’ll go with them if you like, but if it’s all right with you and your father I’d like to stay here. So we can get an early start tomorrow.”

Truthfully, he still felt uneasy about leaving Belle behind although the day had been quiet.

“I think that’s a good idea. I’ll go into town and get something for us all to eat for dinner, then,” she said with a smile.

“You weren’t going to before?” Adam was shocked and suddenly glad he suggested he would stay if that meant Belle would have a proper meal.

“Oh, well there’s some things in the house but not enough for three,” she said quickly but Adam wasn’t entirely convinced.

“I’ll make sure with your father it’s all right that I stay and then tell the servants to return in the morning,” he said, letting the subject drop. “May I come with you to the village?”

“I’d like that,” she said and Adam couldn’t help but smile. It was so comforting to know that Belle enjoyed his company, even after all that had happened between them and all that she knew about his past.

“Maurice?” he called as he ducked inside the cottage, leaving Belle to help oversee the servants securing the wagons. It looked odd seeing the main room so bare; Belle’s bookshelves had been cleared out and the cushioned arm chair he admired before had been packed away. Although the table and chairs remained, the centerpiece of the room had gone and with it any semblance that Belle had lived here.

Maurice wasn’t anywhere to be found on the main floor, so he went upstairs to see if he was in his room. Sure enough, the door was open and Adam could glimpse Maurice inside. He knocked on the door and waited for Maurice to respond before entering. 

Belle’s father was sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees, gazing at a portrait that sat on the floor in front of him, leaned against the wall at an angle. As he walked a bit further into the room, Adam could see the subject of the painting: a little girl in a blue dress with a sweet, gentle expression sitting beside a woman in pink. Together they held what appeared to be a story book and were surrounded by flowers.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Maurice asked and Adam noted the wistful tone in his voice. 

“Oh, yes,” he agreed easily. “Is that Belle?” He pointed to the child, though by the sweet countenance and familiar hazel eyes Adam was sure it could be no one else.

“Mhm, and her mother beside her.” Adam took a closer look at the woman in the painting. 

There was a definite similarity between them, though her mother’s eyes were a green-blue and her hair was a shade lighter than Belle’s. But their smiles were the same as were the shape of their faces.

“She’s beautiful,” Adam said, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. He knew that Belle’s mother had died when Belle was young and Maurice was doubtless feeling a bit nostalgic for his wife, but Adam had no idea how to act in such a situation. He knew he should try to comfort the old man, but what could he say?

“She had so many suitors,” Maurice started and Adam sighed in relief, spared the responsibility of breaking the silence between them. “All of them rich, handsome men, but she chose me. She said she saw something in me that no one else had. I never understood what she meant, but Belle seems to have figured it out.” 

Adam understood that Maurice meant how Belle was able to see into his own soul as Belle’s mother saw into Maurice’s and he had the good sense to realize he had just been given the highest of compliments.

“It shall have a place of honor in the castle,” he declared. “Wherever you wish it to hang, it will.”

“Thank you, lad. I think I’d like it to be in that library. She was always so fond of books, you know.”

“Belle told me it’s because of her mother that she learned her love of books,” he admitted, thinking back to that glowing day he had presented the library to her. 

Maurice chuckled and stood with a sigh. “You couldn’t have found a better way to win her heart than giving her that library, you know.”

“I only wanted her to be happy,” he protested. “She had done me a great service and I wanted to do something in return that would make her feel comfortable, make her smile.”

“What service was that?” Maurice asked with a raised eyebrow.

“She stood up to me,” he confessed, allowing himself a grin. To his surprise, Maurice started to laugh and clapped him on the shoulder.

“She’s a good girl. But you came in to ask me something, didn’t you?”

“Oh, well Belle wanted to stay here for the night so we can get an early start tomorrow. I was hoping I could…if I could get your permission to stay here tonight, and to go with Belle now into town to get something for dinner.” 

He was suddenly nervous, as if asking such a thing was inappropriate.

“Belle’s a grown woman, she can make her own decisions about the man she loves.” Adam tried not to blush at this. “But I’d also enjoy your company tonight. You’ve been a great help to us.”

“Thank you,” he said with a slight, polite bow. “I’m sending the servants back to the castle to return tomorrow with an empty wagon.”

“Yes, yes, I’m glad we had room for all this mess. I had so many ideas to improve some of the furniture in this house for years, but of course Belle forbade it. I suppose getting rid of chairs we sat in every day was a bit much to ask.”

Adam laughed and tried to imagine what Maurice had in store. “We’ll be back soon,” he promised as he left Maurice and the portrait behind to rejoin Belle outside.

“Ready?” Belle asked, and empty basket now hanging from the crook of her elbow. 

“Let’s go,” he replied, excited to see the village. Even knowing what Belle told him about it, being out of the castle for the first time was still new and he found himself eager to experience more. As the servants made their way back towards the castle in their laden wagons, Adam and Belle started in the opposite direction, walking arm in arm towards town. 

Chapter Text

Adam certainly seemed excited about visiting the village; he was practically pulling her along as they crossed the bridge that led into town. She tried to remember that he had been cooped up in his castle for ten years. This was an entirely new experience for him, and she wanted him to enjoy himself, but she couldn’t help her reservations about going back into the village. After what happened at the castle, how would they react seeing her? How much did they know of her involvement?

As they entered the village boarder and pushed further into the town square, Belle noticed that every eye seemed to be turned on her. People who had been haggling over the price of bread and eggs stopped what they were doing to stare at her. No one said anything, no one moved towards her, but nevertheless the weight of their eyes was overwhelming.

“What’s going on?” Adam asked, leaning down to whisper in her ear. But before she could reply, a woman approached her.

It took her a moment to realize it was Sophia, the closest thing Belle had to a friend in the village. Sophia had helped her settle in to country life after she and Papa had moved from the city. They had always been on good terms and might have been very good friends, but Gaston had kept them apart because he didn’t like Belle being in the company of Sophia’s husband or her unmarried brother.

“What are you doing back here?” Sophia asked quickly, glancing around at the villagers around them. “I thought—” Sophia’s eyes darted at Adam and then at the ground at her feet. “I thought you had left after the night of the mob.”

“I came back to close our house,” Belle explained. “Sophia, what’s going on? What’s wrong with everyone?” Sophia opened her mouth to answer, stopped, glanced around again, and reached to take Belle’s hand. 

“Come in here,” she said and pulled Belle into the nearest doorway, Belle dragging Adam after them both into a dark store. Belle blinked a couple times, her eyes adjusting to the sudden gloom, she realized that Sophia had brought them into the bookstore Belle had loved so much.

“They think it was you,” Sophia said as Belle opened her mouth to ask again what was going on. “They think you’re the one who—who killed Gaston.”

“What?” Belle gasped, horrified. 

“You were seen going into the castle, and then minutes later Gaston fell. Everyone knew you were on the monster’s side, so it seemed to be the conclusion everyone reached.”

“They think I killed him?” Belle couldn’t believe it. How could anyone think that? She and Gaston never really got along, despite his best efforts, but how could she be capable of such a thing?

“It’s not true, is it? I didn’t believe it at first, but you hear a thing over and over…” Sophia blushed, seeming embarrassed to have even asked, but Belle didn’t blame her.

“No, I didn’t kill him. It was an accident. He fell from the roof.”

“Fighting the monster?” Belle felt Adam’s hand tighten on hers and she struggled to decide what to say.

“He wasn’t a monster, but yes. Gaston was fighting him, trying to kill him, when he slipped on the wet roof and fell.”

“I knew you couldn’t have done it,” Sophia sighed, seeming relieved but Belle hoped she wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“I doubt the rest of the village will believe me as easily,” Belle said with a wry smile.

“Well that’s why I’m surprised to see you here. You said you were closing your house?”

“I am.” Belle saw Sophia’s eyes flicker again toward Adam, but she didn’t press further.

“Why, Belle, I thought you had forgotten about your old friend,” a voice came from the shadows of the shelves behind her. She turned to see her old friend the bookseller, his white hair sticking up at odd angles, his glasses twinkling in the light as he stepped forward. 

“Monsieur!” Belle cried in delight. It had been ages since she had seen her old friend; so much had changed since she was sitting in the aisles of his store when she was barely sixteen. 

“You’ve gotten up to some trouble since you’ve been away, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, Monsieur, everything’s such a mess! I promise I didn’t—”

“Of course not, my dear,” he interrupted her before she could work herself up into a proper panic. “How could someone as intelligent as yourself even entertain such a notion?” He stepped forward to take her hand and she released Adam’s hand for a moment. But she could sense how adrift he was feeling, how out of place, and so when the bookseller was done embracing her, she made a point of bringing him back to her side.

“And this is?” the bookseller prompted.

“Adam. He and I—well we’ve been through quite a lot together,” she said, looking up to catch his eye. He smiled a sort of lop-sided smile at her, but she could see how uncomfortable he was and resolved to end this awkward conversation as quickly as possible.

“So everyone thinks I killed Gaston. I assume they found his—his body?”

“They did,” Sophia confirmed. “And had a proper burial for him. There’s talk of a statue, but for now his place at the pub has been memorialized.” 

Belle restrained a grimace. The townsfolk had always idolized Gaston, but a statue?

“Well, as I said, I had nothing to do with it, not that anyone but you two will believe me.”

“Which is why I’m surprised you’re even back here,” Sophia repeated. “I thought you were done with this village after the battle at the castle—which no one is meant to talk about. It’s still faux pas to say the word ‘teapot’ around here.”

Belle almost smiled at the image of Mrs. Potts pouring boiling water on those most unwelcome guests during the siege, but controlled herself.

“Your husband wasn’t caught up in it, was he?” she asked, remembering she saw mostly men attacking the castle.

“He wasn’t part of the mob at your house, if that’s what you’re thinking. He did go to the castle with the others when they marched through town, but he’s quite well, beyond a little confusion with whether or not the chairs were about to attack him. He’s still a bit—well gun-shy, shall we say.”

“I’m sorry about that. It probably won’t help, but tell him he has nothing to fear,” Belle said, hoping to help even just a little.

“But I think it best if you go, Belle,” Sophia said, glancing out the window. Her comfort level had been reached; Sophia was ready to leave the presence of the one the town had ostracized. Belle tried to understand; they had never been able to be true friends, but she couldn’t help the sense of disappointment in Sophia. 

“She’s right. You know better than anyone how horrible these ignorant people can be. For now, I’m in favor of a hasty retreat with your young man.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back, so—thank you to you both,” Belle said, her voice quivering despite her best efforts. As much as she had despised this place, it had been her home for more than four years; the people her neighbors, despite their horridness. 

“Go on now, little adventurer,” the bookseller said, waving his hand at her. “Take care of your father and be well in your new life.”

“What will you do?” she couldn’t help but ask. As far as she knew, she had been the only customer of the rich retiree in as many years as she had lived here.

“Search for better waters, my dear. Perhaps the shore will be more favorable to an old man like me. So I think this is goodbye.” He bowed to her, an odd, flourishing gesture that made her suppress a grin and yet made her think that he might know who Adam truly was. Perhaps it was best they leave as soon as possible, lest things get even more awkward for poor Adam, and more hostile to her.

Chapter Text

She and Adam left the bookshop with Sophia, a heavy feeling in her chest as though she were preparing herself to go out into a fierce storm.

“Would you like me to finish your shopping for you?” Sophia offered, ducking her head and lowering her voice. 

“No, we’re nearly done,” Belle insisted. If it was as bad as all that, she shouldn’t bring Sophia into it by having her spotted going to the house with her groceries. “Thank you for your help. I hope we meet again soon.”

“You’re not going far?” Sophia cocked her head to one side in confusion and glanced briefly at Adam. Belle kept forgetting not everyone had all the pieces to her story. 

“Not far at all. I’ll send you a letter and explain. For now—”

“Yes, you’d better get going. I’ll look for your letter,” Sophia said quickly and, without any further word, turned and fled back in the direction of her house.

“I’m beginning to have a very different opinion about this place than when we first arrived,” Adam muttered beside her and she nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. He hadn’t said anything since before Sophia brought them into the bookshop, she wasn’t expecting the sound of his voice. 

“Let me just get a few eggs for breakfast tomorrow and then we can go. Since the chickens are at the castle now.”

“Fine, but let’s hurry.” Belle couldn’t agree more.

The thin man who ran an egg and dairy stand was nearly out of goods for the day, but nevertheless seemed reluctant to sell to Belle. He barely acknowledged her, and in the end she picked out a half dozen eggs herself and left the correct amount of coins behind.

“Good evening,” she said in the most friendly tone she could muster and turned on her heel only to realize that half the village had been staring at her while she shopped.

The villagers had often stared at her when they thought she wasn’t looking; they had always thought her odd, after all. But those stares had been mostly curious; rude, but benign. These…they were vicious, hard looks, condemning her to guilt without knowing what really happened.

Wordlessly, Adam took hold of her arm in one of his strong hands and led her forward. She noticed how his shoulders were slightly hunched and his body was angled towards her and she realized he was ready to leap in front of her should the villagers show signs of becoming violent. He clearly was intent on getting her away, and at this point she was more than willing to let him. 

Just before they made it to the small stone bridge that marked the edge of the town and safety from the staring eyes, a short man stepped in front of them.

“Lefou?” Belle said in shock and dismay. Of all the people she did not want to meet on this trip into town, it was Gaston’s closest ally. 

“How—How could you?” he cried, his words ending in a hiccup. It was only then that Belle realized how he swayed on his feet. He was deep into his cups, and Belle had the sinking suspicion he had been for some time.

“I didn’t. I know you won’t believe me, but it was an accident.”

“And—hic—and you chose him after everything Gaston did to impress you?” he cried, motioning to Adam next to her. Adam released her arm and moved to stand in front of her, but she put out a hand to gently stop him. Lefou posed no threat, not in the state he was in. 

“Gaston never—”

“He loved you!” Lefou interrupted with a wail. 

“Perhaps he did, in his own way, but to truly love someone is not to dominate them, not to own them, and that’s all he would have ever done. Please, Lefou,” she began and glanced at Adam, hoping she wasn’t about to overstep. “Please, come back to the castle with us. We’ll find you work and you can start a new life.”

“I will—hic—never go to the place where he was killed.” His face creased as if he smelled something foul and Belle had never seen such hatred in a person’s eyes before. And then he spat at her feet. 

“How dare you!” Adam began, his voice lowering in a near growl, stepping forward with his hands balled into fists. Lefou didn’t flinch, but Belle caught Adam’s arm before he could take it any further. 

“Go home, Lefou,” Belle said, hoping Adam couldn’t feel her hands shaking. “Go home, and try to be at peace.”

She sidestepped Lefou, catching hold of Adam’s hand as she did so and pulled him after her. He resisted for a moment, but came after her before their hands could be pulled apart.

Once they were across the bridge, she glanced back to see that Lefou was still on the opposite side. He wasn’t following them; none of the villagers were. She was safe.

“We shouldn’t go back there,” Adam fumed, putting one arm around her shoulders to turn her away from the village. “If those people hate you so much for something you didn’t do…” Belle could tell he was working himself up into a proper rage.

“It’s all right,” she tried to reassure him, but she couldn’t muster the energy. She wanted to comfort him, but there was an odd sense of hollowness in her chest, an ache that she couldn’t define, and it began to suffocate her. 

“Belle?” she heard Adam’s voice call her her, but she was lost amongst the chaos that suddenly clouded her mind. 

Once again she saw Gaston’s cruel smile after he stabbed Beast, watched as the man fell to his death, heard his last screams as his disappeared into the abyss. He had gone to the castle out of jealousy, hadn’t he? Jealousy for her. Despite what Adam said, perhaps Gaston’s death was her fault. It was too overwhelming, too horrible to think that she had caused so much destruction. Her mind began to go blank and she felt faint, but she forced herself to remain upright.

“Take me back to the cottage,” she asked, holding her hand out to Adam though she still couldn’t see beyond the villager’s gawking faces in her mind’s eye. Her voice sounded weak in her own ears and she tried to pull herself together, but the images in her mind refused to leave her. 

She felt Adam’s arm tighten around her shoulders and blindly she followed his lead, leaning into his body as she tried to push the tormenting images away.

“They had no right to act that way,” Adam growled as he helped her walk towards safety. She shook her head and pressed herself closer to him, absorbing the warmth and protection she felt from his presence. “It wasn’t your fault. He was hurting me, Belle. He was angry and, from what you and that old man said, killing me was the only way he could think to keep the upper hand he seemed to think he had on you. You saved me, Belle.”

She tried to let his words comfort her as they were meant to, but she kept seeing Gaston’s face as he fell into the ravine, quickly followed by the relentless stares of the villagers, Lefou’s words echoing in her ears. 

She let Adam lead her inside the cottage and into a chair by the fire. Belle knew she needed to try and pull herself together, but never before had she felt such hatred concentrated in one place, concentrated on her. 

She heard muttering across the room and knew that Adam was talking to her father, but they didn’t seem to be speaking to her and so she ignored them, focusing instead on how to manage the betrayal of the entire village. Was she responsible for Gaston’s death? She couldn’t be sure anymore.

“Belle?” Adam’s voice called to her, the angry growl gone and replaced with a softness in his eyes. She blinked to find him kneeling in front of her. She tried to smile at him but couldn’t quite manage it. He took her hands where they lay in her lap. “Belle, you can’t let them treat you like this. You know you didn’t do anything wrong, don’t you? You said it yourself, you had nothing to do with his decision. If anything it’s my fault. I caused him to fall off balance after he stabbed me.”

Belle winced at the memory. 

“He’s right,” her father came up to her now. “This isn’t your fault. I was there too, remember? He was set on causing damage to anything you loved. At first it was me, but then he turned his attention to the beast.”

“Because I showed him the mirror,” she interrupted, looking at her hands clasped with Adam’s. She did not deserve to be there with him after she all but set Gaston on him.

“To save your father, Belle,” Adam insisted. “If you had done nothing, your father would be in an asylum. Would you feel any better then?”

Belle imagined her father being torn away from her to huddle in a cell in the notorious asylum and shivered.

“I could have just married him,” but even as she spoke the words she knew she couldn’t have done that. To marry that monster would mean to lose herself entirely, to be a mere trophy to show off to the village who would bear his seven sons for him. She would fight against him for a while, but doubtless Gaston would find some other way to break her spirit.

“No, you couldn’t,” her father said knowingly. “Not even if it would save everything you loved. You never compromised yourself before, you shouldn’t have done it with the most important decision of your life.”

“You’ll never have to go through anything like that ever again, Belle,” Adam assured her. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Those people are going to believe what they want no matter what you tell them. But you won’t ever have to be near them again if you don’t want to. Everyone at the castle loves you and knows the truth, knows what good you’ve done.”

Belle was grateful for both of their support and knew there was truth to what they said. She took a deep breath and tried to drive away the images in her mind. The village didn’t know the true story, as Adam said; if they had, and if they could believe it, surely they would understand that what happened to Gaston was not her fault after all.

“You’re also tired and hungry after such a long day,” her father added, picking up the basket of food from where she had abandoned it on the floor near the door. “After a good meal and some sleep you’ll feel good as new.”

“You mean you’re hungry and are just finding an excuse to get supper started,” she teased, able to find her smile again. It was small, but she could manage it. “All right, I’ll get to it.”

“I’ll help,” Adam offered, causing Belle to pause as she rose from her chair. 

“That’s very kind of you, but you don’t have to,” she protested. 

“I want to,” he said and took the basket from her father before she could reach for it.

“I’ll do some more packing, I think,” her father said. “Belle knows all too well how good of a cook I am.” Belle smiled and nodded; her father could hardly boil water without setting something on fire, be it himself or the pot. She had been cooking for both of them since she was ten, her neighbors in the city graciously helping her after her mother died until she was old enough to do it herself. 

Papa returned to the cellar to clean up what was left behind from the day’s move, and she and Adam went into the kitchen to start dinner. 

It was clear that Adam had never done anything of the sort before, but she could tell he was ready to do his best. It was nice to have some company to help her, even one so inexperienced. Belle was still stuck in the events of that evening, the reaction of the villagers sticking in her mind like sap on a leaf, but when Adam somehow dropped the bag of flour onto the countertop and sent a cloud of it directly into his face, Belle burst out in uncontrollable laughter. Adam grinned as she laughed and wiped the flour from his face.

“Here,” she offered, still helplessly giggling and raised a clean cloth to his face to help remove the flour.

“It tastes awful,” he complained good-naturedly as she carefuly wiped flour away from his eyes.

“Well you’re not meant to eat it by itself,” she giggled. 

“I know, I know. I had no idea it would just explode like that,” he chuckled.

“There, I think I got all of it,” she declared.

“You promise? I don’t want to be walking around with a white nose.”

“I promise,” she said as solemnly as she could.

“Good, because then I can do this without making a mess.” He leaned down and kissed her, tucking one finger under her chin delicately. Belle melted into his kiss, realizing she needed such an embrace after the shock of that evening and reached up to pull him still closer. 

“You lied,” he said when they broke apart. Her eyebrows knit together, confused by why he could mean. Adam raised a hand to her cheek and gently rubbed at a spot with his thumb. “You didn’t get all the flour after all.” Belle raised a hand to the spot Adam touched and felt the remnants of flour there. 

“I guess I missed a bit,” she said with a giggle and wiped it off.

“What’s next?” he asked and turned back to their task.

Belle led him through the preparations of the meal and realized what he had done for her; by insisting that he help her, he ensured that she was too busy helping him to dwell on her own grim thoughts. She smiled now as they worked, a warm wave of gratitude for all that he had done for her growing inside her chest. 

Chapter Text

Belle slept poorly that night, as she feared she might. She tossed and turned, twisting her bedsheets into knots, occasionally drifting off to sleep but was always woken quickly by the leering faces of the villagers. 

In the deepest part of the night, she found herself wishing she was back in the castle so she might escape to the library. She couldn’t even find solace in her own books now, since they had all been packed away and waiting for her at the castle. Even if they weren’t, Adam was stretched out to sleep in front of the fireplace by the now empty bookshelves. She wouldn’t want to risk waking him, not after all he had done for her and her father that day. So she stood only to pace the length of her small room, stopping occasionally to watch the moon’s journey across the night sky.

The moon was bright that night, but the stars were brighter still, seeming to wink at her from their place in the dark blanket above. She couldn’t help but be reminded of the night she and Beast had shared in the ballroom; the stars had been bright that night, too. Everything had seemed so wonderful, like a chapter from one of her storybooks. 

Was it truly less than a week ago that she had danced in Beast’s arms? So much had happened since then, both good and bad, it seemed almost a lifetime ago.

Belle hugged her arms and leaned against the windowsill, breathing in the cool night air as she looked up at the stars. Tomorrow they would return to the castle and Belle would be home for good. Even now her room seemed odd to her, clear that it was no longer meant for her, that she no longer belonged there. 

She made no attempt to hide her smile at the thought of living her life at the castle with Adam, with no one to see her silly grin but the stars. Inevitably, her mind turned to the idea of becoming his wife.

Marriage had never been a lifelong dream of hers as it had been for other girls; she had always dreamed of traveling, of adventure. And with Gaston hounding her so, it had become not only a disagreeable notion, but an impossibility, since no man would dare pursue her with Gaston so keen. 

But with Adam it was different. With Adam she felt more like herself than she ever had with anyone else. With him it was not the trap of what was expected of her by society, but a welcome adventure she would share with him. Belle shivered in excitement of the sudden vision she had, walking down a long aisle towards Adam wearing a fine suit.

She shook her head and told herself to stop being silly. Adam was barely a week out of a ten year enchantment and under pressure from the possibility of resuming the position of a part of the royal family. The last thing on Adam’s mind would be proposing to her. But she would wait for as long as he needed, and she would be beside him through everything he would face. He loved her, that she could not doubt, and she would look forward to being a part of his new life.

She shivered again, this time from the still-cool air of the early spring night, and retreated back to her bed to huddle under the covers. The idea of marrying Adam was thrilling, but she could wait until he was ready.

_____

Belle looked exhausted when she came downstairs the next morning. The dark circles under her eyes were proof of her restlessness and Adam knew it was yesterday’s events that had kept her awake. Neither of them expected the villagers to act so cruelly—Adam was furious at the whole town for such unjust behavior—but Belle had taken it very badly. When he went to her, knowing his face expressed all the worry he felt for her, she smiled sweetly at him, as she always had before.

“Were you comfortable enough down here?” she asked, brushing a hand against his arm as she went to stoke the fire back into life.

“Oh yes, very,” he replied quickly. He didn’t admit to how odd it felt to have slept somewhere other than his castle. He had woke several times during the night in panicked confusion only to remember that he was in Belle’s cottage. He was also a bit stiff from sleeping on the floor despite the blankets and cushions she provided for him, and his muscles ached from loading the wagons, but he was far more concerned about her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, placing what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder as she straightened up from the fire. 

“Of course. I’ll be glad when we put the village behind us, though,” she admitted with a guilty smile. Adam readily agreed; anyone who could treat Belle as harshly as those villagers did not deserve her. He tried not to remember that he had once behaved even more callously towards Belle and forced himself to move on from it as Belle asked him so often to try to do. 

“Shall we get started then?” he chose to say instead of all that he was thinking.

“Breakfast first,” she insited. “I’ll wake Papa while it’s cooking and we’ll get started afterwards.”

“Good idea, but before you do…”Adam pulled her towards him and held her close to his chest. Belle had given a little ‘oh!’ of surprise, but wrapped her arms around him all the same. He bent down and pressed his lips to hers, enjoying the way his mind slipped into bliss and forgot everything except her nearness.

“I will never get tired of that,” Belle sighed when he freed her lips.

“Good,” Adam said and kissed her again, but ruined it by grinning. “Neither will I.” After one more quick kiss, he released her. “Now let’s see to breakfast so we can get back to the castle. I’m sure the servants are at their wits’ end by now preparing for the celebration without your help.”

“Is that tomorrow?” she asked as she led him towards the kitchen. Adam silently counted the days in his head. 

“The day after, I think. That will give you and your father plenty of time to settle in with your things.”

“That’s good, though why they need me to plan a party is anyone’s guess.”

“They just want your opinion. It is partially for you, after all. Without you…” he broke off, not even wanting to think of what would have happened had Belle not saved him, saved them all.

“Have you ever cracked an egg before?” Belle asked, holding a smooth brown egg out to him, a grin on her face. He chuckled and took it: now it was her turn to distract him from his thoughts.

The servants who had helped them the day before had arrived shortly after Adam, Belle, and Maurice had finished their meal. With their help, the house was emptied in a matter of hours, filling one wagon and half-filling the second.

“Is that everything?” Adam asked, dusting his hands on his trousers after helping Frederick, one of the servants, load the last trunk from Maurice’s room into the wagon.

“I think so,” Belle said slowly. “I’d better check to make sure.”

Adam noticed that Belle seemed a bit troubled and began to ask why before he realized it had to have been because she was leaving her home behind.

“Perhaps your father can help you,” he suggested, motioning to Maurice where he stood a little ways away from them, gazing at the cottage. They both needed to say goodbye to this place and close its door without regret.

“I’ll wait here,” he added.

Belle nodded and he watched as she took her father into the house one last time. He knew there would inevitably be some despair about leaving the cottage that had been her home for years, and he felt it was best to give them both a little space.

He hoped he wasn’t causing them too much distress. He didn’t want them to feel forced to live in the castle, but both Belle and Maurice seemed willing enough to stay, and he trusted Belle to tell him otherwise. 

When they disappeared behind the cottage door, Adam sent the full wagon and the servants on towards the castle, leaving the second half-full wagon for the three of them to ride alone. He leaned his back against the side of the wagon, facing the house and wondering what it must be like to move your entire life to somewhere new.

His family had two homes when he was a boy: the castle in the forest, and a smaller mansion in the heart Lyon, nearly two days’ journey by carriage. He and his family had traveled between the two when his sister was still just learning to walk. That wasn’t moving though, that was just bouncing between homes. 

When his father started working longer and longer hours, he, his sister, and his mother stayed more and more often at the castle in the forest. It was his mother’s favorite of the two; Adam distinctly remembered how she would seem to come alive when in the shadows of the forest. She always said it was easier to breathe than in Lyon.

Then the day came when they stopped going to the city altogether and Adam’s father visited only once a month, which suited Adam just fine. He could barely even really remember that other house now. 

The door to the cottage opened with a soft creak of its hinges and Adam was pulled out of his thoughts.

“We’re all set to go,” Belle said as she and her father met him at the wagon, her brilliant smile showing no hint of sadness at leaving. 

“Thank you again for your help, lad,” Maurice said as he gave the older man a hand up into the wagon. 

“Of course,” he replied easily, turning to help Belle up as well. She was more than capable, but he couldn’t help but feel a little protective of her after yesterday. She took his help without comment and settled onto the wagon’s hard bench next to her father. 

Their eyes met and Belle’s narrowed slightly in a question. Apparently the thoughts of his past were showing on his face. He smiled at her, hoping to banish her concern and patted her knee before vaulting into the wagon behind them. There was less room to stretch out now with the wagon half full, but he made due. Belle turned to check that he was settled, sending another smile his way.

“Let’s go home then,” she said and took up the reins. Adam grinned behind her back, quickly realizing that she meant the castle as her home. Adam watched the cottage grow smaller as they made their way to the main road. Before he lost sight of the recently vacated cottage completely, he noticed a short man slowly climbing the stairs.

Chapter Text

Many of the servants had gathered in front of the castle when they arrived. At the sight of so many smiling, human faces, Adam’s joy at the broken curse was renewed. They did not deserve to have been part of the curse at all, but he doubted he would have made it through those long years without them.

It was still so strange to see the human faces he remembered from his childhood, and odder still to feel the warmth in his chest as seeing their happiness. He had spent years in anger and rage, but they had stood by him; now he wanted to start again and earn their loyalty.

As they pulled up to the castle’s doors, Belle climbed down from the wagon before Adam could offer to help her, and she embraced Mrs. Potts who was standing closest.

“It’s good to be back,” Belle declared to the small crowd when she broke away from Mrs. Potts. “I missed you all so much!”

“Even me?” Chip asked, peaking out from behind his mother’s skirts.

“Especially you,” Belle replied and bent to embrace the child. 

Adam couldn’t help but beam at Belle; the servants obviously loved her and she treated them so well, befriending and overseeing them equally. Belle was suited to the life of a royal; she was meant to be a princess. The province could only prosper with her caring heart to help govern it. Perhaps he would write to his father after all.

“All your belongings are waiting for you inside, ma cherie et monsieur,” Lumiere said with a bow to both Belle and Maurice. “We were not sure what you wanted to do with everything, so we set them aside until you returned.”

“Thank you, Lumiere. That’s very kind of you. Perhaps after lunch I’ll start to sort it out.”

“Allow us to help you,” Cogsworth offered, coming forward and bowing to Belle himself. 

Several more voices rang out to volunteer. Adam’s smile grew and he stepped forward to wrap his arm around Belle’s waist. 

“Sounds like we’ll get it all sorted before tea time,” he said with a laugh. “Thank you for your help,” he added, nodding to the servants who had come with them to the cottage.

“Yes, thank you!” Belle echoed. “It would’ve taken so much longer without your help.” Wordlessly, the men smiled and bowed to Belle and Adam.

“Come on,” Adam said. “Food then sorting. I’m starved!” Belle laughed and took his head to lead him inside. 

He hardly needed to be led about his own castle, but it was pleasant to have her hand in his own. Better still was there was no hint of sorrow in her eyes now. He doubted she would ever forget what happened yesterday, but coming back to the castle already seemed to cheer her immensely and he marveled once again at how lucky he was to have her in his life.

_____

It was odd to know that the cottage was no longer part of her life, but she was happy with the choice she made. Now all that had to be done was sort through the piles the servants had made in the antichamber for them. Though she was surrounded by people to help her, among them Cogsworth, Lumiere, Adam, and her father, the vast pile before her seemed a daunting task.

“How did all of this fit inside that tiny cottage?” she wondered aloud, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head in disbelief. 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” her father chuckled. “We’ve accumulated so much in just a few years.”

“Perhaps it would be easiest if you delegate where everything should go, mademoiselle,” Cogsworth suggested. “That way, nothing would be misplaced and we wouldn’t have to wonder where to go.”

“Good idea, thank you,” Belle said, grateful for his suggestion. “Papa, perhaps you could go to your workroom and tell them where you want all the furniture and supplies to go.”

Belle was releived when he agreed to this; the last thing she needed was to worry about her aging father climbing up and down dozens of stairs and trying to lift more than he could handle. She had seen to it that he didn’t strain himself at the cottage, and didn’t want him to get hurt in the last leg of the move.

“Let’s get started then.” Everyone stepped forward to pick up an item and Belle instructed them where to go: her room, her father’s room, the workroom, and the library. While she waited for them to return , she sorted some of the smaller items into piles, though quickly there became very little time between people to do that.

“Where does this go, ma cherie?” Lumiere asked, motioning to the portrait of Belle and her mother. She smiled at it tenderly, tracing her eyes over the image of her mother. 

“I suppose just in my father’s room,” she replied. 

“Is that the painting of you and your mother?” Adam asked as he returned to the antichamber, coming over to look at the portrait properly. “Your father said he wanted it in the library.”

“Did he?” Belle was surprised Adam knew that. 

“Yes, he said you mother would want to be with the books she loved.” Belle smiled and suspected Adam had quite and interesting conversation with her father back at the cottage, but did not press for details. 

“Very well then, to the library please, Lumiere. Carefully?”

“But of course! I shall protect it with my life. But may I ask where it is to be hung?”

“Oh, just place it somewhere out of harm’s way for now. I’ll see to that later today,” she said and Lumiere nodded and left.

“Your mother was very beautiful,” Adam said as Lumiere left. “I wish I could have met her.”

“I think she would’ve liked you,” Belle said wistfully, imagining such a meeting. Adam bent to kiss the top of her head before turning back to the pile of her belongings. 

“Where would you like this to go, My Lady?” he asked jovially, bowing to her with such ridiculous flourish that she was provoked into a giggle.

“You’re teasing me now,” she accused merrily: most of the servants had started calling her ‘My Lady’ now.

“A bit,” he admitted, giving her a crooked sort of smile. She stuck her tongue out at him briefly and told him to put the trunk at his feet in her own room. 

“You have to be careful with this one, too,” she said quickly. “My mother’s wedding dress is in it.”

“Really? Can I see it?” he asked, bending to stretch his hand towards the trunk’s latch.

“Certainly not,” she replied and grinned at his surprised expression. She refused to give a reason for denying his request, but judging by the way Adam did not press the issue, he had guess.

Only a few hours later, the antechamber was empty and Belle was left thanking the ranks of exhausted men.

“I don’t know how to repay you for all that work,” she declared, “but I’m so glad Papa and I have made the move here permanent.”

“We are only glad you wanted to,” Lumiere said grandly. “The castle would hardly be the same without you here.” The other servants rang out their agreements and Belle felt her face grow warm. 

“How are the celebration preparations coming?” Adam asked Lumiere and Cogsworth once the other servants were dismissed.

“Splendidly, of course, Master,” Cogsworth replied. “I took the liberty of talking to the dozen or so who want to leave to discuss arrangements for their departure.”

“Make sure to send them with plenty of supplies for their journey, and for their families as well,” Adam requested and Belle smiled at his thoughtfulness. He wanted to make sure these people were well looked after, even after they left his service.

“I’d like to say goodbye to them before they leave,” Belle added. “Everyone has been so kind to me since I arrived here, I would like to thank them and see them off.”

“It shall be done, mademoiselle,” Cogsworth replied. He out of everyone still did not call her ‘My Lady’ but Belle knew this was not meant as an insult, only respect for social traditions. She would not be lady of the castle officially until she was wed to Adam.

“Let’s go find a place to hang that painting,” Adam suggested and took her hand. With each day Adam seemed to grow more and more confident in showing his affection to her; at first Belle could sense the uncertainty in his touch, but day by day he became more sure of himself around her.

“You’ve been so wonderful these past few days,” she remarked as they walked towards the library. “I know things haven’t been easy for you, but I’m glad you came with me to the cottage. I don’t think I could have endured the villagers if you weren’t there.” 

She had been wanting to thank him properly for that day, and finally the commotion died down enough for her to do so. 

“I’m glad I came, too. Those people were so awful to you; I had no idea that one man could have an entire village under his spell like that. And as for things being difficult for me, honestly once I remembered to wear shoes and that I’m not as strong as I once was, it was easy for me to figure out how to be human again,” he replied with a carefree tone.

“Shoes?” she was surprised by this of all things.

“I hadn’t worn boots in ten years. It was hard to remember to put them on at first,” he admitted with a laugh. 

“I think it was easy for me to become human again though,” Adam continued more seriously, “because you hadn’t treated me like a monster. You helped me to regain my humanity even when I was the Beast, so all that was left for me to do was figure out the physical part of it.”

Belle nodded, trying to imagine how it would feel to suddenly have to hold herself different and remember how to move or even dress. It seemed a daunting task, but Adam seemed to have figured it out quickly and gracefully.

“Well I’m just glad we can settle in now and perhaps go back to the way things were a little,” she said, slightly embarrassed to be the subject of such a compliment. 

Adam stopped walking and looked at her as though he wanted to say something. For a moment Belle was afraid she had said something to offend him, but she waited while he opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed his mouth, only to sigh and get ready to speak again. 

“Belle, I…” he paused again and Belle waited for him to collect his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, about whether or not I wanted to be a prince again.” 

Belle nodded, acknowledging the conversation and wondering if this meant he had decided. 

“I think it’s my place to—to pick up the responsibility I was born to bear. But if I do, that will mean I’d have to relearn almost everything I started being groomed for as a boy. We wouldn’t have as much time for each other.”

Belle took a moment to process this information, but only a moment. “Then we’ll make time,” she said simply and raised a hand to trace his jawline. “I think it’s wonderful you want to take up your place in the world. And it would be a terribly exciting adventure, don’t you think?”

“Terrible, yes,” he grinned. “You really think we’ll be able to spend enough time together? I don’t want to be unfair to you.”

“As long as we both want to, we’ll find a way,” she reassured him. Though she had very little idea at what would be in store for them, she was certain that they would overcome anything together. They had beaten an entire enchantment, hadn’t they? What were a few lessons and royal duties compared to that? And the fact that Adam was so concerned about it assured her that he wanted to make it work, both with her and his new place in life.

Her thoughts were cut off as Adam bent to pull her into a kiss. 

“You’re so good to me,” he remarked as they broke away. Belle blushed and could think of nothing to say. “Come, let’s put up that painting. Then perhaps we can read for a while.” 

“All right,” she readily agreed and they continued on their way to the library. 

Chapter Text

Belle donned the golden dress for the second time, comforted this time by its familiar weight and the tender memories it held in its folds.

“You’re beautiful, dearie,” Madam Armoire exclaimed as she finished fastening Belle’s bodice, something she hadn’t been able to do last time Belle wore the gown. “It’s wonderful to see you back in that dress; it suits you, you know.”

“Thank you,” Belle said, blushing at the compliment. “You look lovely, too,” she added, turning and taking hold of Madam Armoire’s hands, spreading both her arms wide so Belle could admire the woman’s own beautiful, if a bit operatic, purple dress. All the servants were going to wear their best outfits: clearly Madam Armoire had been keeping this one from another life. 

“I hope everyone has fun tonight. You all deserve to enjoy yourselves after all this time.”

“Oh, my dear, you talk as if we were all completely miserable. And yes, I’ll give you that before you got here it was frightfully dull and we were all a little down in the dumps, but it really wasn’t all that bad. You mustn’t feel sorry for us.”

“I don’t!” Belle hastened to say, worried that she might have offended her. “I just mean that it had to be very trying for you all to have to endure the enchantment. I…oh dear.” Belle faded into silence, twisting her fingers together in distress and certain Madam Armoire could only be insulted by what she had said. She only chuckled and took hold of Belle’s hands, halting their anxious movements.

“Relax, dearie. I know you just want all of us to be happy, and we all appreciate that.”

Belle nodded and tried to set aside the underlying concern she had harbored for the servants. If they hadn’t been happy, she told herself, then the castle could certainly not have been the lively place it was now.

“Shall we go down?” Belle asked with one last adjustment to her gloves.

“Yes, indeed!” Madame Armoire agreed animatedly and opened the door to let Belle exit first.

“I just have to get Papa first,” she said, turning in the direction of her father’s room in the next hall. “He’s still a bit turned around in this place, and he’s never been to the ballroom.”

Moments later, Belle knocked on her father’s door and it opened to reveal Papa in a handsome blue vest, white shirt, and brown trousers.

“Belle!” he gasped, his eyes wide as he surveyed her outfit. “You look beautiful.”

“Doesn’t she though?” Madame Armoire put in before Belle could say a word. “Properly floored the Master when he saw her wear that dress the first time.”

“The first time?” Maurice asked, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Come, I’ll explain while we walk,” Belle said and placed a hand under her father’s arm to lead him towards the ballroom. 

On the way, she finally told him everything about that night: an abridged version of finding the ball gown, her request to have a formal dinner with Beast, and the night he had prepared because she had asked. 

As she retold the story, Belle felt her heart flutter at the memory of dancing in the arms of her Beast. It was the most wonderful evening Belle had ever experienced; if only she had been brave enough to confess her true feelings on the balcony under the stars. It shouldn’t have taken the horrible events that followed later that same night for her to realize she was in love with him, but everything had turned out as it should in the end.

“I see,” Papa said when she finished her story. “It seems like you were being treated like a proper princess here.”

“No one here ever did anything of the sort, especially not Adam. He treated me like myself, Papa,” she corrected, not missing the slightly bitter tone in her father’s voice. “His kindness and gentleness was never to impress me, never to treat me like more than myself. The setting was just different than we’re used to, that’s all that it was.”

“I’m just glad you're happy. I’m not trying to pick a fight, truly. It’s a lot to take in.” Belle nodded and said nothing further, realizing that her time spent with Beast would forever be a mystery to her father. 

It was not lost on her that the grandness of the castle, indeed simply the fact they now lived in a castle, was enough to contradict her statement that she was not being treated like a princess. Who else lived in such splendor? But she knew Papa was implying that Adam might have been spoiling her only to earn her favor, and that was not the case. 

“Here we are!” Madame Armoire declared in a singsong voice and Belle couldn’t help the rush of excitement that flooded into her throat. 

“Oh, Papa look how beautiful!” Belle exclaimed as a footman opened the door for them.

The massive beauty of the room itself was familiar, but now it was bustling with chattering people dressed in their very best. An orchestra was playing in the corner, tables laden with food and drink were spread around the circumference of the room, and garlands of flowers were wrapped around every column.

“There you are!” a voice exclaimed and Belle looked to her left to see Lumiere bounding towards her. “The Master has been waiting for you, ma cherie. What do you think?” he asked, motioning an arm to the ballroom. 

“It’s beautiful, Lumiere. You have outdone yourself.” Lumiere grinned and bowed. 

“Merci, mademoiselle, but it could not have been done without your help.”

“I have a feeling it could have, but that’s kind,” she said with a knowing smile.

Before he could retort, Adam came up behind Lumiere and clapped the gangly man on the shoulder. “Belle has certainly done much to set this castle to rights, hasn’t she?” he said to Lumiere, but was looking at her, his blue eyes sparkling. 

Belle smiled at the compliment and her smile grew wider when she noticed the suit he was wearing. It was the one he had worn last time they were together in the ballroom, the first and last time they danced, sending simultaneous reminders of the night they had shared and of the enchantment they had broken. Both sent her heart beating wildly. 

“I’m going to see what there is to eat,” she heard her father say and he sauntered off in the direction of one of the tables of food. Lumiere excused himself as well, escorting Madame Armoire away and leaving her alone with Adam. 

“How’s he adjusting?” Adam asked as he slipped an arm around her waist and nodded in the direction her father had gone.

“Better than I expected,” she said, trying to calm the butterflies she felt at his touch. “He’s glad he made the move, I know, but he still gets turned around. And I don’t think he’ll ever understand what you and I had gone through during my stay here.”

“In his defense, it is a bit unusual,” Adam remarked. “But he’ll see that you and I are happy together, and soon the rest won’t matter. You are happy, aren’t you? You would tell me if you’re not?”

She turned to him, his blue eyes suddenly so full of concern. “Of course I’m happy,” she said easily, reaching up to run a hand along his jaw.

“But?” he pressed and she smiled slightly; he knew her so well. 

“But, even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help but feel like I betrayed him by being happy here. He was so desperate to find me, to save me from what he thought was a fate worse than death. I don’t know that he’ll ever recover from those months. He likes you and he’s forgiven you, but I’m not sure he’s forgiven me, or accepted what happened here.”

“Belle,” Adam started but paused to look around at the crowds and drew here a bit further away from the throng. “You did everything you could for your father. You took his place when I imprisoned him, you went to his side when he was lost and ill in the forest. And—now don’t take this the wrong way, because you already know how I feel about it—you defended him against that mob using every tool you had. From where I stand, you have honored your father beyond what many would do.”

Belle let his words break up the somber mood she had put herself in. She would do anything for her father, and indeed had done much already. And her father didn’t seem to be unhappy, only confused, so she tried to let her worries rest.

“Enjoy yourself today, Belle,” Adam continued “This is a celebration for you as much as anyone. You saved us all, remember?”

“You did your share too, if I remember correctly,” she reminded him teasingly, unwilling to take all the credit. 

“Very well, if I admit it’s a shared success, will you dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand to her. 

“Gladly,” she conceded willingly, taking his hand in her gloved one. But instead of joining in for the next count of music, he bent, gently seizing her by the waist, and twirled her in the air in a whirl of golden skirts. 

Belle couldn’t help but laugh as Adam guided her through space and set her safely down again. Grinning foolishly, Belle looked up into Adam’s deep blue eyes before he bent to kiss her, his hand on the back of her head to gently draw her closer.

“Come,” he said when they broke apart. “I’ll show you one of the many things you’ve taught me.”

Belle allowed herself to be led into the center of the floor and Adam moved his arms to their proper positions for a dance. The observant orchestra began a new song and Belle recognized it to be the one they had danced to before. 

As Adam once again sent them whirling around the ballroom, Belle was lost in the gentle pool of his warm gaze. She allowed him to lead her around the floor as she looked into the eyes of her beloved; vaguely she was aware that everyone had stopped to watch them, but she was lost in the magical hold Adam seemed to have her in and merely floated in his arms, ignoring the world around her. 

After what seemed only mere moments but was equally timeless, the song ended and Adam ceased their twirling. As the people around them applauded, Belle was brought back from her trance and glanced around her, feeling her face grown warm at having so many eyes on her.

Adam grinned and led her off the dance floor, motioning to the orchestra to play a more lively song. 

Across the floor, she saw Papa standing with Mrs. Potts, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief. Concerned that he was upset, she looked a question at him, but before she could start to go to him, he smiled broadly at her and nodded. She noticed his eyes shift slightly to look beside her, at Adam, and saw him nod again. Could he be he had seen truly now how much Adam loved her, how much she loved him? Did that one dance do so much to sway him? He did not hate Adam when he so easily could have under the circumstances, but now perhaps he was finally accepting him. She dared to believe. 

Chapter Text

The celebration was a huge success, Adam was pleased to see. He watched joyfully as the servants danced around the ballroom, ate from the delicious array of food, and chatted merrily. Never before in his memory had the ballroom been used for such a lively event. There had always been boring state balls with stuffy nobles before and it was good to now have life and laughter echo off the walls. 

Somewhere in the middle of the event, he leaned against one of the columns and watched the scene before him. To his left, Lumiere and Cogsworth were quarreling over something, shoving each other and drawing the attention of the people immediately around them. Adam chuckled, knowing that whatever the dispute was about, in a matter of minutes they would be great friends again. 

On the ballroom floor was his beloved dancing with Chip. Her cheeks were flushed with the energetic dance and she was laughing. Adam couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She was so beautiful, so gentle, so wonderful it was hard to believe this whole thing wasn’t a dream.

When Chip twirled and laughed, Adam’s attention was redirected to the boy. Though Adam had not paid much attention to the children of the servants before the curse, he distinctly remembered Mrs. Potts’ son being around four or five years old when the enchantment was set upon them. Looking at him now, it was as if the boy had not grown at all with the years as Adam himself had. Curious about this, he walked over to where Mrs. Potts stood with Maurice.

“Chip seems to be having a good time,” he remarked, nodding over to where the boy was dancing with Belle.

“He adores her, Master,” Mrs. Potts beamed as she watched them. “She’s very patient with him.”

“She’s always been good with children,” Maurice added.

“How old is Chip now?” Adam asked, unsure how to gently approach the question he wished to ask. Mrs. Potts did not answer for a moment and Adam suspected that she had also wondered about the absence of her child’s aging.

“He was four when the enchantment took hold,” she began. “But though it’s been so long, he doesn’t seem to have changed at all, does he?”

“Is it because he simply hasn’t?” Adam said thoughtfully.

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I was wondering if the enchantment had not allowed him to grow for those ten years, and when it was broken he just picked up where he left off, so to speak. But if that’s true, then why did I get older?”

“I think you’ve got the right idea. I’ve been wondering myself why I shouldn’t be feeling older than I do. As for why you aged and not the rest of us, I’m sure it’s because you were the only one who remained at least in flesh and blood, not to mention you were the center of an enchantment that was timed by your age and dependent on you—well, if you’ll forgive me—on you growing into who you were meant to be.” 

Adam chuckled briefly at her carefully chosen phrasing, but he realized that the Enchantress had been more compassionate than he first believed. Though his servants had to endure ten years of life as objects, at least they had lost none of those precious years as their human selves.

“Mama!” Chip called and rushed over to Mrs. Potts when the song ended, Belle trailing close behind. “Mama, did you see me dance?” 

“I did, my boy. You were wonderful!” Mrs. Potts bent to embrace her son.

“He’s the best dance partner I’ve ever had,” Belle said as she drew level with them, smiling at Adam and provoking another chuckle from him.

“I’m glad someone here knows how to dance well enough for Belle,” Adam put in, playing along. “She needs a proper dance partner.”

“You’re not so bad, Master,” Chip insisted, making Adam laugh out loud this time. 

“Thank you,” he said with a small bow. “Would it be all right if I practiced with Belle?” Chip nodded and Adam thanked him again before offering his arm to Belle.

“You must be exhausted,” his whispered into Belle’s ear as he led her away. “He was very energetic. I promise to go slow and let you catch your breath.”

“It was fun,” she insisted. “But it was easier to keep up with him when he was a teacup. Poor Mrs. Potts has her hands full with him.”

Adam led Belle into a slow waltz, allowing them to continue speaking and for Belle to catch her breath. 

“We’ve found out something about the enchantment though. I’m sure you’ve been wondering—”

“That no one has aged?” Belle finished and Adam widened his eyes in surprise. “I’ve been thinking about that. Chip should have been much older now, shouldn’t he? I think the enchantment stopped their aging, since if Chip hadn’t aged, I doubt anyone else had either.”

“What about me, then?” he reminded her, impressed that she had deduced this all on her own.

“Well, you were the subject of the enchantment, weren’t you? It was supposed to become permanent in your twenty-first year and all that. Oh!” she exclaimed as if something had just occurred to her. “Does that mean that night—that was your twenty-first birthday?”

“Not quite,” he replied, chuckling softly at her shock and concern. “The flower would bloom until I turned twenty-one. It started losing petals then, and I had a year after that to—well what I thought was to hate the days that remained.” He trailed off for a moment, remembering the ache of despair so vividly, but shook it off before Belle could worry about it. “So it was my twenty-second birthday,” he smiled. “But to be honest I stopped celebrating those a long time ago. I had actually forgotten about it. To me those last rose petals were marking my doom, not celebrating my birth. I would be content if I never endure a birthday celebration again.” 

It was true; if he was to be reminded of the curse, of those ten lonely, bitter years he endured, it was better that he also did not have to suffer the embarrassment of a birthday party as well.

“Anyway, you aged while everyone around you did not since it was only your growth that really mattered. And I’m very glad you did not remain eleven years old,” she teased and Adam was glad she didn’t make him linger on those painful memories.

“That would have been a bit awkward, wouldn’t it?” Adam laughed. “You never cease to amaze me, Belle. You’re so clever.”

“I’ve read too many fairy tales with their own spells and curses, is what it is,” she dismissed. “I never thought I’d find myself in the middle of one, but when I had, I found my stories were actually of some use.”

“There are stories like ours?” Adam asked, intrigued by this. He and Belle had read many books together, but she had many more stories in her mind than he. 

“Not exactly, but every curse was meant to teach the subject a lesson and almost always had some side effect.”

Adam was about to reply, but something across the dance floor caught his eye.

“Belle, look,” he said quickly and nodded to the spectacle.

“Well done, Papa,” she said quietly as they both watched her father lead Mrs. Potts into the dance. Mrs. Potts was blushing, but seemed willing enough to let Maurice lead her around the floor with the other dancers.

“I didn’t know your father could dance,” Adam remarked, mildly surprised. 

“Who do you think taught me?”

“I thought your mother—” he began.

“I’m sure she would have, but I was too young to learn much from her. I’m surprised Papa had the courage to ask Mrs. Potts to dance, though. From what I was told it took years for him to even start courting my mother.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” Adam asked hurriedly, wondering if perhaps Belle might become a bit jealous.

“Of course not. They both deserve someone to be with. I wonder how she’ll react when he starts spending most of the day in his workroom.”

“Well, you got me out the West Wing many times, didn’t you?” Adam reminded her. “Who knows?” 

“We’ll just have to see what happens,” she said happily. “In the meantime, are you going to let Chip show you up?” Adam grinned and whirled Belle around the floor obligingly. 

_____

“I think it’s safe to say that was a great success,” Belle said as she and Adam strolled out onto the balcony, lit only by the candlelight that glowed through the windows of the ballroom. It had grown late and many of the servants had wandered back to their rooms, but Belle wasn’t quite ready for the night to be over.

“I think we should help clean up tomorrow. It isn’t right they should be left to clean up by themselves after a party that was in honor of them.” She heard Adam sigh, but he agreed all the same.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he said.

“I did, though my feet are aching. I’ve never danced so much in my life!” She sat on the ledge of the balcony to rest her feet, wishing she could take her slippers off. “Between you and Chip I barely got any rest.”

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly as he sat on the ledge beside her. “I was having too much fun dancing with you.”

Rather than verbally responding, she slid closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. She enjoyed his tiny gasp of surprised at her action, and thrilled when his arm wrapped comfortably around her shoulders and held her to him.

They sat there for quite some time, gazing at the night sky above them. They did not speak, but the silence was comfortable. 

A cool breeze played with Belle’s hair and caused her to shiver. Though spring was getting stronger, the nights were still cold and Belle had little to speak of in the way of sleeves. Adam wrapped both his arms tighter around her and she breathed in his nearness.

“Time to go inside?” he asked. Belle was reluctant to end the night, but another breeze provoked her into nodding. She stood to go inside, but her aching feet protested and she stumbled. Adam caught her elbow though she managed to balance herself in time. 

“Your feet hurt that badly?” he asked and Belle saw concern crease his eyebrows.

“I just overbalanced,” she insisted, embarrassed. Instead of responding, Adam quickly bend and scooped her up before she realized what he was doing. 

“May I escort you to your room?” he asked merrily, his blue eyes dancing in the dim candlelight.

“Only if you promise not to drop me,” she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Never,” he insisted and carried her through the ballroom and into the heart of the castle. 

“Thank you for earlier,” she said as he approached the main staircase. “With Papa and how worried I was. I know it was foolish, but I just want him to be happy, to accept us. And when things change so quickly, I have trouble finding my feet. So to speak,” she added, wiggling her toes which were currently suspended several feet above the ground as she reclined in Adam’s strong arms. “I was the same way when we left Paris, too.”

“Is there anything I can do? I know it’s been a lot to take in all at once.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, though she couldn’t express how grateful she was that he asked. “I know nothing’s going to be quite the same again, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It will just take me some time to adjust, that's all.”

“Perhaps we can read in the library for a little while tomorrow,” he suggested. 

“I’d like that, thank you,” she said gratefully, knowing she could always count on her books to ease her mind. Perhaps she could read him some of Aesop’s Fables; some of those would surely provoke him into laughter, and she loved seeing his reactions to the stories she read to him. 

“There,” Adam said as he approached her bedroom door. He carefully guided her feet to the floor, holding her weight until she was perfectly upright. “Safe and sound.”

Belle nodded, but made no move to go inside, unwilling for such a lovely night to end. Adam seemed reluctant to leave as well, but neither of them made a move to speak for several moments.

“Thank you for all you did for the celebration. You looked beautiful tonight,” Adam finally offered, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture Belle recognized as one of uncertainty. 

“Thank you,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush yet again. “You looked handsome, too.”

Adam chuckled and Belle looked at him in surprise. “I haven’t heard anyone say that to me in quite a long time,” he explained, amusement still sparkling in his eyes. 

“Well, it’s true,” she said defiantly. “And you know, Beast was handsome, too. Just in a different way.”

“Oh really?” Adam said, one eyebrow cocked in amused disbelief.

“Yes, really,” she pressed. “You may not have been human, but once you let your goodness overcome your anger, more than once was I able to see how truly beautiful you were. Now it just shows in your exterior a bit more clearly now.”

The laughter in his eyes faded and was replaced with something Belle didn’t understand. Was that adoration, perhaps, or confusion? She gave up trying to name it after a moment as Adam brought a hand up to gently tuck a strand of hair back away from her forehead.

“Thank you, my love,” he said softly and Belle closed her eyes as his hand moved to caress her cheek. “I’m so glad you were able to bring that part of me out. I thought it had been lost, until I met you.”

Belle could think of nothing to say to such a beautiful thing, so she merely raised her head and stood on her toes to pull Adam into a long kiss, gently twining her fingers in his soft hair as she did so. His hands found the small of her back and pulled her closer until she could feel the buttons of his coat press into her stomach.

“Goodnight,” she said, breaking away and trying not to gasp in her breathlessness. Adam nodded, seemingly speechless and she softly closed the bedroom door between them, sighing happily and eager for the day to come. 

Chapter Text

“You did WHAT?” Adam bellowed. It was a little over a week after the celebration for the end of the curse, and he had finally screwed up his courage to write to his father, only to find that Cogsworth had already done so. “Without even ASKING me?” 

Adam picked up a nearby chair in rage, ready to hurl it across the room, but he took a breath, set it down, and sat in it instead. He put his head in his hands, elbows digging into his knees, his rage sliding backwards into fear and confusion.

“I-I’m sorry, Master,” Cogsworth stammered. “I only t-thought to inform him of y-your wellbeing.”

“You should have told me,” he muttered as he stared at the floor between his knees.

“I have a reply.”

At Cogsworth’s words, Adam’s head snapped up in surprise and saw the portly man holding up a letter. He took it, resisting the urge to snatch it from him, and held it suspiciously in his hands. It was still sealed with wax, indicating that it had not yet been read.

“Would you like me to read it?” Cogsworth suggested when Adam hesitated.

“No.” Adam took a breath and carefully unfolded the letter. As he skimmed over the words written on the heavy paper, his head began to pound first with anticipation, then with anger, and finally terror. He crumpled the letter in his hands, wishing he could forget the words he read only to smooth out the page and read it again.

“What does it say?” Cogsworth asked.

“My father is dead,” he said flatly. “For some time now. My uncle has taken over for the province since apparently my father told everyone I had died as a child. No wonder I hadn’t heard from anyone after he left.”

Adam thought he should be feeling something at this news, sorrow, rage…anything. But instead he only felt numb.

“I’m so sorry, Master,” Cogsworth said and Adam could tell he was sincere.

“It doesn’t matter. My uncle is on his way to see if what you wrote him is true and that I’m alive. I suppose we’ll have to come up with some story to tell him.” 

Adam crumpled the letter once again, balling it in his hands. 

“I’ll see that a room is prepared for him,” Cogsworth said with a bow and left, but Adam hardly noticed.

His father had told everyone he was dead? Had he really wanted to forget Adam so badly as to fake his own son’s death? But now his father was dead, truly dead, and Adam felt no remorse about that news.

Deciding to think about that later, he focused his attention instead on the imminent arrival of his uncle. Adam had not seen Gustave since he was about Chip’s age, but he could vaguely recall fond memories of the man. Would Gustave recognize Adam? And if he did, would Gustave give Adam back his rightful inheritance or simply shun him. If he chose the latter, Adam would have nowhere to go; he would lose everything he had ever known. 

Except for Belle, he reminded himself with a small smile. No matter what happened, he hoped he could count on her to be by his side. His smile turned into a smirk as he pictured himself with calloused hands and sunburnt skin farming in some field, a prince no more. Would that be so bad, with Belle with him?

He shook his head and decided to go see what Belle thought of this news, the letter still crumpled in his fist. There was no answer when he knocked on her bedroom door, so he immediately went to the library.

As he opened the door to the library, he spotted Belle in her favorite cushioned window seat, reading to several children gathered around her feet.

Careful not to disturb her enraptured audience, Adam took a seat nearby and waited till she was finished. Belle smiled at him when she noticed him but did not pause in her reading.

Adam sat back and listened to the story, something about a lad who climbed a giant beanstalk to get to an ogre’s treasure in the sky. He was amused by the way Belle read the story to the children, changing her tone of voice to make the events of the story sound more dramatic. Some of the children even shrieked when the lad was hastily chopping down the beanstalk before the ogre could attack him.

“Another!” they cried when Belle closed the book of fairy tales she had been reading from. 

“Maybe later,” Belle said. “I think the Master has something to talk to me about. Why don’t you go play and I’ll read another later on.”

“I’m going to be Jack!” Chip declared, jumping up and miming swinging an ax. “I’m going to slay the ogre and take his magic flute.”

“It was a harp,” one of the girls corrected. Chip merely shrugged and stated that he would take both, then declared that the girl was the ogre and chased her out the library surrounded by the other children all laughing and shrieking.

“Noisy little things, aren’t they?” Adam said with a chuckle as their playful cried echoed down the hall.

“They’re just excited,” Belle replied with a wide smile. “I just hope they don’t get in anyone’s way while they’re working.”

“They’ll be fine,” he insisted, not particularly caring if they stirred the place up a bit. 

“You look worried about something,” she said, her expression dropping into one of concern for him. Recalling why he had sought her out in the first place, he handed her the crumpled letter.

“What’s this?” she asked and took the paper from him. He didn’t answer, allowing her to read and find out for herself. As she smoothed out the letter, Adam sat in a nearby armchair and watched Belle’s face as she silently read. Almost immediately, her brow furrowed and her eyes flew across the page faster.

“I—” she started, but glanced at the page again. “I’m sorry about your father.”

“I’m not,” he responded without thinking. He paused in horror at what he had just said. “I’m not sorry. What’s wrong with me? I should feel something, shouldn’t I?” It frightened him to know that he felt no sorrow at the knowledge of his father’s death. He had no ambition of returning to the horrible, hard-hearted person he once was, but did this lack of emotion as such a major event mean there was no hope for him?

Belle knelt on the ground by his chair and placed a hand on his knee. She was looking at him with such sincere sympathy Adam was stunned for a moment. 

“What your father did to you was awful, Adam,” she began. “He should not have left you like that. And to isolate you as he had by saying you were dead was horrible. From what you told me, you two never had a very good relationship with each other, and you hadn’t seen him in over ten years. He wasn’t a large enough part of your life to justify a strong reaction to this, I think. Everyone reacts differently to this sort of news, anyway. Nothing is wrong with you, Adam.”

“How can you be so sure?” Belle always knew just what to say to ease his mind, but was what she said true?

“You have a good heart, Adam. You have to trust that what you feel is right, even if it isn’t what you think you’re supposed to be feeling.”

Adam leaned back in his chair for a moment, letting Belle’s words sink in. 

“What about the other part?” he said after a moment, rubbing his face and returning his attention back to Belle. “About my uncle coming here?”

“To me it only brings up more questions,” she confessed, glancing back at the letter in her hands. “He’s coming here to see if you’re still alive, but then what? Aren’t you supposed to inherit the land from your father? But then what would happen to your uncle? Or is the deal done now that he’s held the land for so long? And why hasn’t he ever come to the castle before? Why hasn’t anyone?”

Adam felt his forehead wrinkle in confusion as Belle rattled off her questions. She had a good point: why hadn’t anyone come to the castle before? They had some stray travelers, once or twice a hunter, but all had only stumbled across the castle. It wasn’t a secret place, or it didn’t used to be, and yet in ten years no one had arrived on purpose.

“Maybe it was part of the enchantment, but I don’t see how,” he said, still deep in thought. “I’m more worried about what I’m going to tell him about where I was for the past ten years.”

“I wonder…I wonder if you shouldn’t just tell him the truth,” Belle said hesitantly.

“What?”

How could she suggest such a thing? If anything would guarantee the loss of his position and his home, it would be telling such an unbelievable story. His uncle would think Adam had gone mad, which would be a brilliant excuse for why his father said Adam was dead: to hide his insane son from the world. 

“No one would believe such a ridiculous story,” was all he said but his voice was harsh in his own ears.

“I did. I knew this castle was enchanted from my first night here,” she retaliated.

“Because you saw it. Talking clocks and candlesticks are easier to believe when you’re the one having the conversation with them.”

“So show him proof. Surely you still have the mirror and the wilted rose.”

That gave Adam pause. The rose still stood under the bell jar, floating as it had for ten years, only now it had grown whole again and showed no further sign of magic. He still had the mirror too, but he had not tried to see if it still held its enchantment. It didn’t matter either way. 

“No,” he grunted. “I still have them, but I will not tell my uncle the truth.”

Belle looked shocked at his words, which only deepened Adam’s anger. Why didn’t she understand?

“Fine,” she said and Adam watched her face set into same intimidating expression she wore whenever they disagreed: stubbornness. “I think it’s a mistake, but you have to choose for yourself.”

Belle stood and, to Adam’s surprise, began to make her way out of the library. 

“You may have broken the spell, but you’re still letting it control your life.” She closed the library door behind her, leaving Adam sitting stunned in his chair staring after her. 

Chapter Text

She strode quickly through the castle, hardly aware of where she was going, her mind still on the argument with Adam. Why wouldn’t he tell his uncle about the enchantment? A lie would only get found out and perhaps make things between Adam and his remaining family worse. She understood not telling the whole world, but to lie to one of his only remaining family members might make things worse. Besides, why shouldn’t Adam’s uncle believe the truth, especially once he saw the rose and heard the servants confirm the story? 

To deny that it happened required a very large lie, more complex than the simple traveling story they sent with the servants who left the castle. Adam’s uncle would doubtless ask many questions, making the lie harder and harder to stick to until it would finally unravel, leaving Adam worse off than he was before. And to deny the enchantment would be to deny all that Adam had accomplished during that time, at least from her point of view. 

Besides, how would Adam explain her without the enchantment? A peasant girl had no right to live in a castle, let alone fall in love with a prince. She knew it wasn’t Adam’s intention, but by denying the enchantment it felt like Adam was denying her.

The very thought made her queasy and she decided what she needed was fresh air.

She felt some of her frustration ebb the moment she stepped outside, breathing in the soft spring air that seemed to almost embrace her. As she began walking down the cobbled path to the gardens, the air became heavy with the scent of freshly turned earth. It was a comforting smell that reminded her of life and growing things, so she followed it hoping to find its source.

What she found was a half-turned garden bed and some tools in a wheelbarrow nearby. The gardener who had been working here had clearly gone to take a break or fetch something. Belle debated for a moment, but in the end she took up a shovel and began turning the rest of the earth herself. 

She knew she should find an apron or at least some gloves, but she was too frustrated. She needed an outlet, and this was just the thing. As she worked, she felt her frustration at Adam ebb away. Her focus instead turned on the gentle warmth of the spring sun and the rich smell of the earth.

She was nearly done with the empty garden bed when she heard soft footsteps pad in the grass behind her. She turned and found a man in a wide-brimmed straw had watching her. His face had the hardened features of a man who has spent a long life outdoors, deep wrinkles at his eyes from years of squinting in the sunlight. 

“Hello, My Lady,” he said and Belle realized that some of those lines at his eyes were from amusement at her. 

“Hello,” she greeted him warmly. “Sorry to barge into your work, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t bother me none,” he said with a shrug. 

“We had a little garden at the cottage,” she went on. “I grew vegetables and herbs, mostly. Necessary things, you know. I was never able to have a beautiful flower garden like this, though,” she said, waving a hand to the nearby beds already established with bushes just making their first early buds. 

“Aye, it’s important to grow what you need to survive, but nothing’s compared to the bloom of a flower.” He surveyed her for a moment and she let him, curious at what he was thinking. 

“Would you like it, My Lady? This bit of earth here? Seems to me it’d be a good pastime for you.”

“Do you mean it?” she exclaimed, hardly containing her excitement, already making plans in her head of what she might plant. “I mean, I would like that very much, if you’ve no objection.”

“Was my idea, wasn’t it? Why should I object?” Belle laughed at this and the man’s wrinkles deepened as he smiled. 

“I don’t know your name, I’m sorry,” she realized, scolding herself for being so rude.

“Louis,” he replied with a nod. “Any thoughts on what you’d like to plant?”

“Well, you already have a rose garden. Maybe some irises?”

“That would be quite nice there,” Louis nodded. “I’ll see to it you get them when planting time comes. 

“That would be wonderful, thank you so much.” She would be glad of just such a distraction, especially with what was on the horizon with Adam.

“Ain’t nothing. If anything you’re lessening my load,” he said with a wink. “Best let that soil alone for now though, let it get its nutrients back. Flowers should be here in a week or so, meantime you best watch those weeds.”

“I will,” she promised, unable to hide her delight at this new prospect. She almost thanked him again, but decided that would be a bit much. So she only returned the shovel where she found it and bid him good day. 

Belle headed inside in much better spirits, intending to go directly to her room to wash the dirt from her hands. She never got that far, though. 

As she climbed the stairs in the entrance hall, Cogsworth came barreling down to meet her. The poor man always looked as though he were moments away from pure panic, but as he approached her Belle saw that he was truly distressed.

“Belle, thank goodness!” he puffed. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked quickly, wondering what disaster could have happened while she was outside.

“I’ve done something very wrong,” he confessed, dabbing at his sweating forehead with a handkerchief. “I wrote to the Master’s father without his permission and received some very disturbing news in reply.”

“I know,” Belle confessed. “Adam came to talk to me about it, but I’m afraid I didn’t do much to help.”

“Well either way, he’s locked himself in the West Wing again. I thought we had gotten passed all this nonsense,” he added as if to himself. “Could you help him?”

“It’s probably because of me that he’s holed himself up again,” she said, shaking her head at the memory of their argument just a few hours ago. “I don’t think I’ll be able to help him now. I don’t agree with him on this, you see.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Cogsworth said. He looked on the verge of a breakdown, so Belle calmly explained all that had happened between herself and Adam after he showed her the letter.

“So you see, I’m partly the problem now. I think it’s wrong of him to lie to his uncle as he intends,” Belle finished. “I can’t help him when I think he’s in the wrong.”

“I see,” Cogsworth said slowly. “There’s no chance of you changing your mind?” 

Belle merely raised her eyebrow at him.

“No, of course you can’t. And between you and I, I quite agree with you. But there is so much to be done before his uncle arrives. If he insists on hiding away, it won’t matter what the story is; his uncle won’t be able to confirm that the Master is alive and he’ll be denied his rightful inheritance!”

Belle sighed, supposing that Cogsworth was right; this was too important an event for Adam to refuse to prepare for. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she finally consented. She didn’t see how she could help, but she had been up against worse before.

Though she promised Cogsworth she would go immediately to the West Wing, she detoured to her room and took the time to wash the dirt from her hands, giving her time to think more than anything. When she had thoroughly scrubbed her fingers twice, she decided she couldn’t stall any longer and made her way up to the West Wing.

She knocked on the massive door, ignored the growling reply of ‘Leave me’ that came from inside, and pushed the door open.

“I said leave—” Adam started and turned as he was speaking but stopped abruptly when he saw it was her.

Belle took a moment before she spoke, noticing how Adam stood by the small table that still held the bell jar and the mirror. It was clear he had been brooding over the rose and Belle felt again how agonizing those ten years under the enchantment must have been for him. Who was she to insist he retell such a painful story? 

But she wasn’t ready to surrender just yet, so she merely crossed her arms and waited for Adam to say something. But all he did was look miserably at her and turn back to the rose. This simple, sorrowful action reminded her so strongly of her tortured Beast and she felt her stubborn anger quickly wane. 

She moved to Adam’s side cautiously, concerned that he might revert back to his beastly temper as well as his sorrow, but she need not have feared. Adam remained stooped over the small table, his only acknowledgement of her approach was to turn his head slightly in her direction. Belle placed a hand on his back and leaned her head on his shoulder, silently joining Adam in gazing at the rose. 

It was a whole, full blossom again, floating a few inches above the table, but it no longer glowed as it once had. A reminder of what had been. 

Beside her, Adam still had not moved but she could feel the pain radiating from him. Belle closed her eyes and tried to imagine all the lonely, angry suffering Adam must have endured for those ten long years. Her heart broke at the thought and yet she felt her imagination had not even come close to the full scale of it.

“I still think you should tell your uncle the truth,” Belle began gently. “But perhaps we can come up with a different story to tell.”

Adam said nothing, so Belle moved to peer at his face. She placed a hand delicately on his cheek to gently suggest that he draw his head up. He responded to her touch and Belle’s heart ached at the grief she saw in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said such things to you.”

Adam still did not speak, but moved to wrap his arms around Belle’s shoulders, drawing her close to him. She responded to the embrace willingly, wrapping her arms around him firmly as if by doing so she could keep his wounded heart from shattering. 

Chapter Text

Belle was glad of her new outlet that Louis the gardener provided for her. Having a reason, a purpose outside the bustle and commotion of the castle just before Adam’s uncle’s arrival allowed her to relax and keep her patience during more trying times of the day.

What came as a surprise was that Adam was nowhere near the center of that chaos. When Cogsworth had insisted that Adam begin relearning all the duties of his station for the benefit of his uncle, Belle had anticipated that Adam would fight tooth and nail against it. True, Adam was not the most patient of students, but Belle found that Cogsworth and Lumiere were more to blame for the uproar the castle was in.

Cogsworth had taken it upon himself to see that Adam was adequately prepared for his uncle’s visit, reviewing endless laws and protocols while Lumiere set the servants on countless and seemingly (Belle decided) pointless tasks. Except that Cogsworth and Lumiere, as they so often did, decided that the other was not doing their task correctly and shouldered their way in.

This accomplished nothing except to confuse the servants who were receiving several different countermanded orders and send Adam several times into hiding. Though Adam had sought refuge in the West Wing countless times before, Belle thought these recent instances were more than justified. She had sat in on one of the lessons that Lumiere had infiltrated and within moments felt her own brain buzzing with confusion and frustration as Cogsworth and Lumiere quarreled. 

When it became clear that their attention had been drawn on their argument and not the material at hand, Adam made his escape and Belle followed.

“It seems impossible to learn anything from those two, doesn’t it?” she commented as they walked down the hall towards the West Wing. Adam grunted in agreement.

“I don’t see why I need to try and learn all this before Gustave gets here, anyway,” he replied, his voice lowered into a grumble Belle recognized as a tone of frustration. 

“It does seem a bit excessive,” she agreed. “I suppose Cogsworth just wants you to be well prepared, just in case.”

“Well, it’s no use. I can’t learn anything like this. I never liked my lessons even with a real tutor, but this is ridiculous.”

“What happened to your real tutor?”

“I—uh, drove him off about a year before the enchantment,” he said and Belle noted the sheepish, guilty smile as he held the door of the West Wing open for her.

It was unusual for them to spend time in the West Wing together; since the enchantment had been broken, Adam seemed happier exploring other rooms of the castle to live and work in. But the quiet of the West Wing was a welcome solace after the arguments between his two self-appointed tutors. Belle had only been in the West Wing once or twice since the fateful night the enchantment broke, but it was still a shock for her to see it in such beautiful condition. 

The first impression she had of it never fully left her mind, so it was always a surprise to see furniture in its whole and proper state.

Belle sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace, trying to feel more at ease with sitting unaccompanied in Adam’s rooms. But the West Wing had become such a warm, inviting place, and really was it all that different than sitting alone together in the library?

“Perhaps I could help. It would be like when I read to you. I don’t know much about all this, but we could learn together. And it can’t possibly be any worse than it is now,” Belle offered. If he had to learn all those silly rules anyway, perhaps she might learn a bit herself through teaching. She rather liked the idea of being able to sit beside Adam and help him manage his lands.

Adam chuckled. “That’s true. I think I’d like that. You wouldn’t lecture me like Cogsworth does, anyway.”

“We’ll have to see what kind of student you are before I make any promises,” she teased, earning herself another chuckle. “I’ll go get the books we need if you get us something to eat.”

“This is already much better than Cogsworth’s lessons; he would always forget to break for meals. I’m starving!”

_____

Belle was a much more patient and understanding teacher than Cogsworth, though she herself confessed she didn’t know much about the material. That made it better though; as she had said, they were able to learn together. Such things as the succession of property were more complicated than Adam had imagined, but Belle was both patient and intelligent, and Adam began to understand both the law itself and the importance of learning it. This law in particular was, after all, a major issue between Adam and his uncle.

Despite Belle’s helpful efforts in helping him prepare, when Adam stood before the main doors several days later, awaiting his uncle’s promised arrival, his hands were shaking. If it wasn’t for Belle standing by his side, Adam would probably have tried to run for it. What would his uncle say when he saw Adam? Would he accept him as his true nephew? And if he did, what then?

A carriage pulled up the drive and Adam held his breath, taking hold of Belle’s hand to give him strength. It was odd to find strength in such a slight figure as Belle, but find it there he did.

The carriage stopped in front of him and out stepped a tall man, clean and regal looking. He glanced around at the servants who were there to welcome him, as was proper, before his eyes finally rested on Adam.

Adam was surprised to realize how similar he was to this man before him; though the man’s hair was black as pitch, he and Adam shared the same blue eyes and Adam could even see similarities in their noses. Adam took a step towards his uncle and bowed slightly at the waist as Cogsworth had instructed him to do. He straightened up, expecting to see his uncle return the bow, but instead the man grinned and threw his arms around Adam in tight embrace.

“Adam!” his uncle exclaimed, pushing him at arm’s length and looking him up and down. “My boy, you are alive!”

“Hello, Uncle,” he replied, feeling a smile grow on his face. From what Cogsworth had described, Adam expected to meet an aloof sort of man with stiff manners. But this was clearly no such man. 

“What have you been doing with yourself, boy? My God, you’ve grown well. You look so much like your father.” The comment had been to please, Adam knew, but there was nothing Adam wanted to hear less. Apparently his distain showed on his face, for his uncle clapped him on the shoulder and looked at him sympathetically.

“My brother should have never done that to you, my boy. But it’s in the past now. Shall we go somewhere to talk? I have feeling there’s a lot to catch up on.” 

Adam nodded and watched as his uncle waved away Cogsworth who was muttering something about refreshments.

“But first there’s someone I’d like you to meet, Uncle,” Adam said, not forgetting Belle who was waiting quietly behind him. He held out his hand to draw her towards them. “This is Belle,” he said simply, smiling at her.

“Mademoiselle, it is an honor,” Gustave said, taking her hand and kissing it gently. Belle blushed prettily and curtsied as if she had been doing it all her life. “Come, let’s the three of us have a chat,” his uncle repeated.

Suspecting there was a reason Gustave was so insistent on talking, Adam led him to the sitting room nearest the entrance hall, the same one where Adam first encountered Maurice while he was still the Beast.

As soon as the door was closed, shutting out the curious servants, Gustave turned and embraced Adam a second time.

“Uncle?” Adam asked, feeling odd that the man had embraced him twice within the span of a few minutes.

“What did that enchantress do to you, boy, for you to have been gone for ten long years?”

Adam could only stare in disbelief. He knew about the enchantress? But how?

“Ten years ago,” Gustave began when Adam did not reply to his question, “I had a vision of beautiful woman in a green gown. She told me she had placed an enchantment on my youngest brother’s son, and that the castle was not to be disturbed by any man, lest I suffer a fate worse than death.”

Adam’s mouth dropped in shock and Belle gasped, but neither interrupted his tale.

“I didn’t believe it at first, but she scared the wits out of me, I can tell you that. She told me not to interfere, not to do anything or I would suffer terrible consequences. And so what else could I do but see to it that the castle here was quarantined, and then marked as structurally unsound, anything to keep curious eyes at bay. I trust I succeeded, considering the enchantress did not strike me down dead?”

“You succeeded,” Adam confirmed, his voice hoarse.

“But why tell you and not Adam’s father?” Belle cut in. “He was alive at the time, after all, wasn”t he?”

“He died not six months prior. I think losing your mother destroyed him, and a fever finished him off.”

At least he cared for someone, Adam thought, glowering bitterly.

“Won’t you tell me now what it was all for?” Gustave asked.

Adam considered Gustave’s request for a long moment. He hadn’t wanted to tell his uncle about the enchantment for fear of terrible repercussions, of losing his home and what remained of his family. But he knew—his uncle knew in some form about the enchantment this whole time.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, whatever it was,” Gustave continued when Adam couldn’t find his voice. “I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy. But,” he continued, glancing at Belle beside him, “it seemed to have ended pleasantly enough.”

“I think you’d better sit,” Adam finally said, gesturing to a chair while he himself collapsed in his favorite armchair. Belle stood beside him, one hand on his shoulder, and he was grateful for the small weight of her hand. 

And so, despite all his misgivings, he told his uncle everything. To his credit, Gustave sat through the whole story with little interruption beyond a gasp or an ‘oh my’. Belle added in a few details here and there when he found he wasn’t able to, when his nerve failed him, but he picked up the story again when he could. 

When Adam was finally finished, Gustave was silent for a long minute. When he opened his mouth to speak, he addressed his words to Belle. 

“You, my dear, must love this man very much to have performed such a great act.”

“I do, monsieur. I mean, My Lord,” Belle said and Adam smiled at her, reaching out to take her hand. She smiled at him in return and Adam’s heard soared. But there was something nagging at him.

“If you knew about the enchantment, in a way at least,” Adam asked his uncle, “then what does that mean for the land? As I understand it, you took over for my father after he died.”

Gustave sighed deeply and took a moment to respond, seemingly collecting his thoughts.

“When he left the castle, when you were, what seven or eight?

“Nine.”

“Your father confided in me that you had not actually perished along with your mother and sister. We were very close, you see, we’re the closest in age of our siblings, and he trusted me implicitly. But he did not wish for you to inherit. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t see a way around it. 

“We combined our two provinces when he died just a few years later as was agreed. I learned of your curse not six months later, and I could do nothing. I vowed that if you came out of it, I would do my best to help bring you back into the world. And here I am,” he said, spreading his arms wide. 

“I could tell no one what I knew, because of the enchantress’ conditions, and I’m sorry for that, but I hope you’ll accept my help now. And as for your inheritance, I have no intention of kicking you out of your home. We shall discuss the details at a later time, when you’ve had more time to settle into your new life.”

“What do you mean ‘both your provinces’?” Belle asked. “I’m sorry I don’t know much about this sort of thing.”

“Don’t be sorry at all, my dear. Frightfully complicated stuff, this is. The previous king, my father, had nine sons and daughters: six boys and three girls. The youngest four boys, which included me and Adam’s father, who was the youngest of us all, never had a chance of becoming king, so we were given large properties of land to manage as our own under the king’s laws. My land and your father’s, Adam, have a common boarder. My sisters were married off when they came of age and my oldest brother, of course, became king when our father died.”

“So it was Adam’s grandfather who had been king,” Belle repeated. “And now it is his uncle.”

“Yes. When Adam’s father died, Adam’s oldest uncle, the current king, agreed that I would be responsible for taking ownership of both lands, as your father and I discussed, since there were no other heirs to do so. Or so everyone thought. As your father’s only son, you should have inherited the land after him. You are a prince, Adam, and now we must find a way to restore your title to you.”

“But the lands?” Adam pressed again, concerned about the people and what that might mean for them.

“We’ll sort that all out when the time comes. In the meantime, let me help you reenter society. It’s the least I can do after playing a part in your solitude and misery. Albeit forced into it, but there you are. 

“Now,” he went on before Adam had a chance to interject, “has my nephew had the good sense to marry you yet, my dear?” Gustave asked Belle and Adam’s heart leaped into his throat. No, he hadn’t the good sense, nor the courage, to ask such an important question. Belle blushed scarlet and began to try at a response, but Adam managed to think of something to come to Belle’s aid.

“I haven’t yet, Uncle,” he began, feeling his own face grow hot. “I’ve been—been planning something,” he said evasively, trying for all his worth to avoid Belle’s eyes.

“Ah, I see. Well, I won’t ruin the surprise, but you shouldn’t take too long, you know. There will be plenty of young ladies keen to snatch you up, Adam, as I’m sure there are young men pining after Miss Belle, here.

“Now that we’ve got the big story out of the way for now, might I be so bold as to ask when the next meal may be? Traveling works up such a terrible hunger, you know.”

“Of course, Uncle. Um, this way.” Adam stood and motioned his uncle out the door. Before he could follow, Belle caught hold of his arm and stood on her toes to whisper in his ear.

“Don’t think on it, Adam. I love you. I am yours and you are mine. Nothing else matters.”

Adam wanted to say something in reply, but his uncle was waiting for them at the door. So Adam only offered Belle his arm and led both her and his uncle to the dining room. 

Chapter Text

Belle knew that once Adam agreed to let his uncle help him reenter society, she wasn’t going to be able to spend as much time with him. She told him that she understood, that it was important for him to learn what he needed in order to reclaim his birthright. But after a few days of barely seeing him, she found herself regretting what she said. 

She visited her father often while Adam was with his uncle, but many times he was either involved in his most recent invention or keeping Mrs. Potts company. Neither of which Belle minded, but it made for awkward conversation. Even her library couldn’t hold her attention for long. It wasn’t the same without him. 

She knew she couldn’t ask for the hours they had spent languishing in the library uninterrupted as it had been during the enchantment, but Adam barely had time to eat a meal with her, to bid her good morning or good night before his uncle was calling him.

Louis became her most constant companion during those lonely days. Every day Belle would go to work on her garden, and every day Louis would be somewhere nearby with tools and gloves available for her. 

At her request, some days he even worked with her, helping her flowers to grow. Louis had brought her the irises she requested, but also several other varieties of flower he said would grow well with them, that would fill in and show off those irises well. Among them was a kind of daisy, one very unlike the wild daisies Belle was used to, that she instantly adored. 

One morning, several days after Adam’s uncle arrived to take him under his wing, Belle went into the gardens only to find the clouds above her dark and heavy with rain.

“Not going to be able to work long today,” Louis said, walking up to her and looking at the sky. “You best go back inside. We’ll work again tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind the rain if you don’t,” Belle replied, looking up at the skies without concern. 

“That’s not going to be any light spring shower, you know,” Louis warned. “Why are you so determined to work in the cold rain, hmm?”

Belle paused before she responded. She didn’t want to return inside the castle where the servants were busy and Adam was hidden away in his study. Belle and Adam had missed dinner together for the first time the night prior as well as breakfast that morning, and if she was honest with herself, she was still upset about it. 

Neither Adam nor the servants needed her; even her father didn’t need her since Mrs. Potts had been showing him more attention. She had no purpose inside the castle, but it was different out in the garden.

Her reasoning sounded flat and selfish in her own mind, so all she said was: “I’m needed out here more.”

Louis gave her a long, measured look, then tipped his head so the brim of his hat hid his eyes. “Well, I can’t stop you, but if you get a cold, don’t complain to me about it.”

“I promise to go in before it rains too hard,” she said to Louis’ retreating back. He waved one weathered hand in acknowledgement, and then she was alone.

Belle knelt and began to pick the tiny green weeds from her little garden as the clouds grew darker above her head. She ignored the drops that soon began to sprinkle the earth, focusing on her task and only thinking how weeds seemed to grow twice as fast as anything that had been planted. 

As her pile of weeds grew, the rain began to fall harder until wet strands of hair stuck to her face. She looked up from the garden bed, blinking against the raindrops that fell to the ground in sheets, and decided she had been foolish enough.

She stood to dust the dirt from her knees only to find that it had become mud. Madame Armoire would not be happy about that. The rain pounded down on her and she shivered, hugging her arms and feeling the damp fabric stick to her skin. 

She hurried inside, slipping on the wet stone walkway, until she finally reached the castle and closed the door on the rainstorm.

“Belle?” She jumped in surprise at Adam’s voice and turned to see him standing behind her. “What happened to you?”

“I got caught outside,” she explained briefly and unsuccessfully suppressed a shiver. Adam immediately took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. The large jacket nearly swallowed her, but it was warm and dry. 

“Thank you,” she said, pulling it closed around her. “What are you doing down here?”

“I was told you might be on the grounds in this,” he motioned to the storm outside the window. “Why were you?” he asked as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and led her further inside.

“I was working in the garden.”

“In the garden?” Adam repeated and the question in his tone made her realize she hadn’t even gotten the time with him to tell him about her new hobby.

“Yes, just a small bed on the south corner. I’ve been helping Louis tend to it.”

“Oh. You’ve been doing this for awhile?”

“Since we found out your uncle was coming to see you,” she admitted. Three weeks she had been at it, and she had not been able to tell him, nor had he noticed her absences. Judging by Adam’s sudden halt in his step, he had just realized the same thing.

“Belle…have I been ignoring you?”

“You’ve been busy,” she dismissed hastily. “I know you never meant to. We knew this would happen.”

Belle never wanted to make Adam feel guilty, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful to whoever told Adam she was outside in the rain. Adam turned to her, brushing aside a lock of wet hair that clung to her forehead in a familiar, comforting gesture that made her close her eyes and smile.

“I don’t want to do that to you,” he said and moved his hand to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry that I have, and I promise to do better.”

“All right,” she replied, doubting it would happen but allowing herself to find comfort in his words. 

“I mean it, Belle. You’ve never been shy about making your opinions known before; there’s no way I ever want that to change about you, especially now. I promise I’ll try to be more aware of what’s going on, but I still need you to tell me when I’m being foolish. I need you to be entirely yourself now that everything around me is changing. Can you do that?”

“Well, I don’t think you’re being foolish, necessarily,” she replied. “But I’ll try to keep you in line,” she added in a teasing tone but taking Adam’s request seriously.

He was right; she had become more timid about making her voice heard since Adam’s uncle had come into their story. There was no reason for it; surely Gustave would realize she and Adam needed time together, too. That she might even have a few things to contribute.

“I’m counting on it,” Adam said with a nod of approval. “And Gustave is returning to his home soon, which will give us more time. And…well I think you should know that not all that time was spent with my uncle drilling laws and traditions in my head.”

“What do you mean? What were you doing instead?”

“You’ll find out,” he said, his lips creeping up into a crooked smile before leaning down to kiss her. Belle had to break away quickly, just in time to stifle a sneeze in her hastily drawn handkerchief, which was just as wet as the rest of her.

“You should change out of those wet things and get warm,” Adam suggested and continued to walk with her towards her room. Belle nodded and cursed her stubborn insistance at staying outside in the freezing spring rainstorm. 

“I’ll come check on you in a while if you want,” Adam said as they approached the doors to her room.

“Oh, I’m fine. Once I get warm I’ll be good as new,” she insisted. “But I would like to see you later on if you can get away.”

“Of course.” Adam leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Now go get warm. I’ll send Mrs. Potts with some tea for you, too.”

“Thank you,” she replied affectinately and retreated into her room to endure Madam Armoire’s disapproving but good-natured scolding at Belle’s state.

Belle was treated to a hot bath and then bundled into a thick dressing gown. Madame Armoire left to try and get the stains out of Belle’s dress, leaving Belle to curl up by the fire. She surrounded herself in a soft blanket and dove into her latest book, comfortable in her pocket of warmth as she listened to the rain outside pound the windows.

“Here we are, dearie,” Mrs. Potts chimed as she entered the room just as Belle reached the end of a chapter. “The Master said you were in need of something hot to drink and I came straight away. What on earth possessed you to be outside on a day like this, I’d like to know?”

“I just got carried away in the garden,” she explained briefly as she accepted a cup of tea.

“Hmm, well you should be more careful, dearie. You could’ve caught a nasty cold,” she scolded cheerfully.

“Perhaps you could stay for a few minutes and tell me what’s going on lately. Everyone seems to have been so busy I’ve hardly spoken to anyone,” Belle asked as she noticed Mrs. Potts prepare to leave.

“Oh, my dear I’m sorry. It’s been such an uproar since the Master’s uncle arrived. He’s given Cogsworth a mountainous list of things to get the castle up to snuff before other nobles arrive, and we’ve all been in quite a tizzy to get it all done. After ten years, we’re a bit underprepared.”

With a sigh that seemed to hold the frustrations of a very patient woman, Mrs. Potts sat in the second chair across from Belle and poured herself a cup of tea.

“You would let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, won’t you?” Belle begged, unwilling to go back to the solitude she had felt the past week.

“Of course, my dear. You can be sure we’ll ask.”

“And how’s Papa?” she said and took another sip of her tea, watching over the rim of her cup as Mrs. Potts blushed.

“Haven’t you seen him?”

“Several times, but I think you’re in a better position to tell me,” Belle replied with a smile. “You two seem to be enjoying each other’s company quite a bit.”

“Oh my dear, don’t you think we’re both too old to be going through such silliness?” Mrs. Potts said dismissively.

“No, I don’t,” Belle said simply. “I think it’s wonderful.” Another sneeze kept Belle from continuing.

“Oh, I hope you haven’t caught a cold after all,” Mrs. Potts cooed, taking the opportunity to change the subject. 

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, disappointed that Mrs. Potts eluded the topic but still intrigued on what might arise from their relationship.

A knock sounded on the door and Mrs. Potts went to open it, insisting Belle stay put in her warm blanket. Cogsworth entered, looking tense and preoccupied as usual.

“Good, Mrs. Potts you’re here. The Master said I could find you here. We need you—” Cogsworth glanced in Belle’s direction and immediately stopped talking.

“Bonjour, Cogsworth,” Belle greeted, eying him suspiciously. What could Cogsworth want with Mrs. Potts that he couldn’t say in front of Belle?

“I’m terribly sorry to hear you’re not feeling well.”

“Just a chill,” she insisted.

“That’s good to hear. Mrs. Potts?” he said, gesturing one hand out into the hall. 

“I’m sorry, love,” Mrs. Potts said to her as she collected her tea cart. “I’ll see you soon. Stay under that blanket now.”

Belle nodded and watched them leave, alone yet again but with much more to think about.

Chapter Text

The rain continued for three straight days, flooding the grounds and forcing everyone to stay indoors. It did nothing to dampen Belle’s spirits, however. On the contrary, she found a new energy she hadn’t realized had been missing. 

After spending the night bundled in blankets, Belle woke feeling better than she had in days. 

She joined her father for breakfast and merrily discussed his new invention. He seemed pleased with the progress he was making on his plowing machine and Belle suggested he ask Adam to test it on his fields when he was done.

“Where is the lad, anyway?” Maurice asked at the mention of Adam. “Haven’t seen him since that uncle of his arrived. You don’t think he’s trying to take Adam away from you, do you?”

“Nonsense. I talked to Adam yesterday as a matter of fact, and he realized how much he’s been hiding away,” Belle informed him. “He’s probably just—Oh, Adam!” she exclaimed as he walked through the doorway. “We were just talking about you.”

Adam paused and looked alarmed.

“I was just wondering where you’ve been,” Papa explained and Adam relaxed and took his seat. 

“Did Belle explain?”

“Enough, anyway. Toast?”

Adam ate quickly, saying he had to meet Gustave for yet another lesson.

“Why doesn’t he join us for breakfast?” Belle wondered aloud. “He must know he’s welcome.”

“He’s been writing a lot of letters. I told him I don’t want to leave this place, so I think he’s trying to get his advisors to come here to set up so Gustave can work while we sort things out, rather than my having to go to Lyon where Gustave is from.”

“Lyon?” Belle asked, wondering where that came into play.

“Oh, where my father conducted business,” he explained and Belle inwardly sighed, wondering how much there was still to learn in bits and pieces about the man she loved. “We used to live there, jumping between there and this castle. My mother preferred this place, and we spent most of our time here while my father was in Lyon.”

“So we are to be invaded?” Papa asked.

“I’m not sure there’s much of an option, unless we’d like to leave here,” Adam said with a grimace, looking at Belle.

“It will be an adjustment either way, but I’m glad you want to stay here. I love this place,” Belle said, looking at the walls around her. She couldn’t imagine leaving the castle, but she would have if it meant staying with Adam. She had no real ties here except for Papa, and the memories she built inside the castle.

“I’m glad you do,” Adam said and stood to kiss Belle before he left again. Belle blushed and peeked over at her father, unsure about this display of affection in front of him. But her father seemed utterly engrossed in his meal and did not notice, or least pretended not to.

Belle kept up her renewed spirit and brought lunch to Adam and Gustave later that day. She knocked on the study door and entered with a tray of food enough for all three of them. Both men looked to see who had entered and visibly perked up at the sight of lunch.

“This is a most welcome surprise,” Gustave said and took the tray from her. “Thank you, my dear.”

“What are you working on?” she asked and took a seat although she had not been invited to. She was worried during the first confused moment of silence that Gustave wouldn’t allow her to stay, but she held her ground.

“Taxes, and how to properly collect them from the people,” he replied and Belle was relieved that Gustave decided to let her stay. 

“Oh, of course, all the collections were sent to you when you took over for Adam’s father. So will the funds be rerouted here to be dealt with, or will you continue to handle them?” she asked, helping herself to a plate as the men had.

Both Gustave and Adam looked at her with matching expressions of surprise and Belle couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased with herself. Apparently neither of them had expected her to take much interest in those sorts of things, but she felt it was important for her to understand at least some of how things were done.

“I will continue to handle that end of things, at least until we can decide how Adam is to be incorporated.”

“But I thought he was his father’s heir,” she retorted, keeping her voice light when all she felt was confusion.

“It might not be possible, legally speaking, but I at least want to try for a partnership. We’ll know more once the court returns my letters. Adam, this lady of yours it quite clever,” Gustave added, talking to Adam but keeping his eyes on her. 

Belle did not break his gaze, but an uneasy feeling started creeping into her chest. His blue eyes, so much like Adam’s, flashed cold for a moment and Belle decided to keep a close eye on this ‘partnership’ Gustave mentioned.

“I’d like to know more about this sort of thing, but you must also allow me time with Adam. You’re monopolizing him, monsieur,” she said in a teasing note, hoping her tone would not betray her suspicion. 

“Please, call me Gustave. And you’re quite right, my dear. I’ve been terribly unfair to you both, keeping Adam cooped up here with me. You may take him whenever you wish.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Adam grumbled. Belle laughed and was surpised to hear Gustave join in.

“I’m sorry, my love. I promise I will always ask you before I want to borrow you,” she teased.

“You make me sound like one of your books,” he complained but Belle noticed his unsuccessfully hidden smile. 

“I shall be returning to Lyon in a few days anyway to talk to my advisors, as soon as this wretched rain stops. That will give you plenty of time to spend with your lovely lady. I would ask you to come with me, but I am not sure how the others might react to seeing a ghost. I think I’ll have to ease them into the idea. Stubborn old men, all of them.”

“You make them sound rather awful,” Belle said.

“I’m afraid they are, my dear, but only because their occupations have made them so. I imagine it would be difficult to keep cheerful while bent over dusty, boring volumes in dim rooms for days at a time. Not that I have anything against those who read, you understand,” Gustave said with a nod towards Belle. She nodded in return, but was almost certain she was just insulted. Belle decided she would get to know these advisors for herself before she would be told by Gustave how to feel about them.

“Are we going to work at all, or can I leave?” Adam broke in, making Belle laugh. 

“Let’s resume. You will stay?” Gustave asked her as he set his plate aside.

“If I may,” she replied, daring him to send her away.

“By all means,” he agreed smoothly and resumed his lesson.

Chapter Text

Gustave left after the rains stopped in order to convince his advisors of Adam’s existence. He couldn’t help but feel that he should’ve gone with his uncle, but he was more than happy for the excuse to spend some time with Belle. The lessons with his uncle had been more time consuming than he had originally thought, not to mention boring, confusing, and terribly overwhelming. There had been many times were Adam almost longed for the days where he had nothing to worry about but his own misery as a Beast.

After his uncle was gone, Adam immediately went to the library to find Belle. As he opened the door to the library, all thoughts of his lessons and inheritance left at the sight that met him. 

Belle was curled up in her favorite chair by the fire, her legs pulled up under her and a book held so close to her face that Adam could not see her nose. Adam had encountered this same posture many times after he had presented Belle with the library and learnt quickly not to disturb her during such moments. Apparently, when she was in such a state it meant she was reading a particularly engrossing part of the book. 

He had made the mistake only once of distracting her when she was like this, and he had been met with a look of pure disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” he had asked, not understanding. It was still early days of their tentative friendship, and he worried that he had disappointed her by his mere presence.

“Nothing. It’s just…that was such a good part,” she replied and set the book aside.

“Don’t let me stop you. Keep going,” he insisted.

“I can’t, I’ll start again later. It’s all right though.”

“Why will you have to start over?”

“It’s like—like when you’re running and you’ve just reached your stride, but you stumble because you were distracted. You can’t start again in a full run, you have to work up to it again. I suppose it’s a bit like that at a particularly exciting part of a book.”

He felt badly about interrupting her, but pleased at least that she was not upset by his being there. Still, he vowed not to disturb her in such a state again if he could help it. 

Looking back to that memory, Adam supposed he knew what she meant now; he did, after all, become entirely engrossed in most of the books Belle had read to him, and if they had been interrupted at the height of the story he would have been cross.

So now Adam simply took a seat in the chair across from Belle and waited for her to reach a natural stopping point. He spent a few minutes amusing himself by watching Belle’s expressions of surprise and wonder as she read, and then turned his attention to a small book that lay on a table next to him. He thumbed through it without much interest, not wanting to involve himself in a story just then.

A small sigh drew his attention back to Belle.

“How was it?” he asked as Belle lowered the book.

“Suspensful,” she replied with another sigh and stroked the binding of the book.

“Well don’t let me stop you. Keep reading if you like,” he insisted. There was nothing pressing to do and he was more than happy to sit in peace with Belle nearby as long as she was content.

“I thought I might take you to see what Louis and I have done in the garden. It looks so beautiful now that the flowers have begun to bloom.”

She sounded so excited, how could he possibly say no?

She led him outside, telling him all about her work with the flowers and earth. Nothing she spoke of sounded remotely like anything he wished to do himself, but he loved that she was enjoying herself.

“Here it is!” she annouced and motioned to a small garden bed against the walls of the castle. It was filled with colorful flowers whose names Adam didn’t know and, though it was clearly very neatly done, he discovered he felt no joy at the sight. While Belle beamed beside him, he felt hollow, even angry.

“It’s beautiful,” he complimented dutifully. Though these flowers looked nothing like it, Adam couldn’t help but see the enchanted rose that had ruled over his life for so long. This was the first time since the curse that he encountered flowers and he found that his previous indifference to them had grown into strong distaste at the knowledge of what one flower had cost him. But Belle enjoyed them and he had no intention of spoiling the beauty she had created despite the sharp memories of the Beast that flooded his mind.

“You must have worked hard to grow these.” He forced his mouth into a smile and hoped he could hide his discomfort.

“Yes, we did. It was kind of Louis to give me this little section, and he ended up helping me quite a bit. It was good to have a distraction while you were working with your uncle,” she said and leaned over to pluck a dead leaf from one of the stems with a purple blossom. 

Adam nodded but said nothing, trying to keep the image of the rose in an old crone’s hand from his mind.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested after a few moments of politely looking at the work Belle was clearly so proud of. Once he was away from the perfume and colorful blossoms, his uncomfortable memories began to subside a little, at least enough to let him breathe properly again.

“It’s getting so warm now,” Belle commented as they walked the paths. “We should go on a picnic or a ride soon. I’m sure Philippe is getting a bit stir crazy, though I know they’re exercising him well, he likes going on long walks.”

“I haven’t ridden since I was a boy,” Adam admitted. “But I have no doubt you’ll remind me how to do that, too.” 

Judging by her sweet smile, Belle seemed to understand his reference to all that she had taught him to do while he was the Beast. 

“We should wait a bit though. The grounds are still too muddy.” To make his point, he prodded the ground beside the path with the toe of his boot, the wet ground making a squelching sound as he did.

“Louis said the large garden is in bloom now,” Belle said conversationally. “I haven’t been there yet, I’ve been too focused on my little part. Would you like to go see it with me?”

Adam suppressed a flinch at the thought of walking through a wall of flowers, their bobbing faces taunting him as the flowers in Belle’s small garden had. He had walked with Belle there many times in the winter when the flower beds were little more than sparkling snow banks, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to go there now. This new distaste for flowers complicated the plans he had begun to make, too…

“Perhaps another time,” he muttered. His voice sounded too gruff to his own ears and he noticed Belle’s look of surprise, but he could think of no way to explain himself properly.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, making sure to lighten his voice enough to show Belle he wasn’t truly angry as his previous tone had suggested. Belle looked at him with one cocked eyebrow for a moment, but apparently decided not to stress the issue.

“Starving,” she replied and took a better hold of his arm.

_____

“What am I going to do, Lumiere?” he groaned to the maitre d’ that evening. 

He had just bid Belle goodnight after spending a long overdue day with her, but he could not possibly think of sleep at a time like this. So he called Lumiere and told him about what had happened at Belle’s small garden.

“What we planned for the garden was perfect, but I don’t know if I can stand being there now. All because of this horrible rose,” he growled and waved a hand at the infernal thing, floating on the table by the balcony.

“That flower ruined my life, now I can’t stand to be around any of them!”

“You can always go somewhere else, Master,” Lumiere suggested. “The library perhaps?”

“I thought about that, but it’s not special enough. We spend nearly every day there. But it was when I watched Belle walk in the garden, the day I later gave her the library, that I realized I started to truly care for her. It would be perfect, I just need to find a way around the flowers.”

He moved to lean his hands on the small table and glared hatefully at the red blossom that still somehow controlled his life.

“If I may ask, Master, why do you keep the rose?”

Adam did not respond for several moments; he had asked this question himself many times, but could never find an answer, nor think of a reason to get rid of it.

“I—At first I kept it because it was a reminder that the whole thing wasn’t a dream and that I really had…have someone who cares for me.”

“But does Belle’s presence not remind you of that now?” Adam nodded and saw what Lumiere was getting at. 

“Then I kept it as proof that it all did happen, perhaps to show my uncle although I didn’t want to. He knew about it mostly, anyway.”

“Is there anyone else you need to prove your story to?”

“You know there isn’t. I know what you’re saying, but even if I could destroy it, it doesn’t mean my hatred for flowers will change.”

“No, that is true. But is keeping it doing you any favors?” Adam frowned, wishing Lumiere would stop trying to be so clever and just come out and say what he meant.

“What if I destroy it and it sends us back into the enchantment?” he asked, though the question sounded irrational even to him. Lumiere did not even bother replying.

Carefully, still unsure of his intentions, Adam removed the bell jar and placed it carefully on the floor, never taking his eyes off the rose. It remained suspended as it had before and once again Adam touched one of the silky petals. Taking a small breath, Adam took hold of one of the petals between his forefinger and thumb and pulled.

The stem of the rose never moved, seemingly held in place by whatever magic kept it suspended, but the petal came off easily in his hand. He examined the crimson petal for a moment, delicate and innocent, showing no sign of the years of pain it had caused him.

“I don’t think I’ll destroy it after all,” he said after a moment, still staring at the petal in his hand. “It’s harmless now.” He held the unremarkable petal up for Lumiere to examine, realizing that he had been foolish to see anything in Belle’s flowers beside their own beauty.

“So your plans…they are still acceptable?” Lumiere’s voice was politely curious and Adam knew that he was trying to contain his excitement.

“I think so. I’ll—I’ll have to make sure tomorrow before I…” he trailed off as terror flooded his chest at what he planned to do.

“Be bold and daring, Master,” Lumiere said when Adam lapsed into silence. Adam grinned at the familiar words and felt a small bubble of courage grow amongst the terror.

“Have you talked to her father as Cogsworth suggested?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Adam confessed, his fear renewing. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Can you…I mean, will you…”

“I shall make sure Belle is elsewhere in the castle while you speak with him,” Lumiere assured and Adam nodded, grateful to Lumiere for both reading his thoughts and helping him plan this ever-important event.

“You should rest, Master. I will see you in the morning.” 

Lumiere bowed and left the West Wing, leaving Adam alone with his thoughts. 

He paced the floor in front of the table that still held the rose and wondered what on earth he was going to say to Maurice.

Chapter Text

After a night of very little sleep, Adam joined Belle and Maurice for breakfast, but that morning he found himself distracted and unable to stop fidgeting. He tried to hide his trembling fingers beneath the table or with the weight of the food on his fork. Fortunately, neither of them seemed to notice his behavior, or at least pretended not to.

When they had finished eating, Maurice retreated to his workroom and Adam and Belle went for another walk in the fresh spring sun. He suggested they return to the small garden Belle was tending to under the pretense of seeing if any new blossoms had opened.

In truth, though, Adam wanted to see if his decision not to destroy the rose had been the right one.

They’re only flowers, he reminded himself. If anything, he should be embracing the memories the rose provided of Belle’s presence in the castle, both during and after the enchantment was broken. If not for it, if not for the enchantment, he and Belle might never had met.

He approached the garden with some trepidation but, though his mind tried to flicker back to the image of the glowing rose, he was quickly able to push it aside and appreciate Belle’s flowers for their own harmless beauty.

“May I?” he asked Belle, motioning to the closest patch of flowers, a small bush that held what seemed like hundreds of blossoms in various shades of pink. When she nodded, Adam drew closer to them and took in their sweet aroma. Perhaps he still did not particularly care for flowers, but he seemed to master his unnecessary anger towards them. 

An impulsive act caused him to pluck one of the blossoms from the bush and present it to Belle. He grinned and watched the delicate blush grown in her cheeks as she took the blossom and tucked it into her hair behind one ear. The flower was illuminated by its new home of chestnut brown, highlighting the beauty of the one who wore it.

“You seem in a much better mood today,” Belle commented, clearly demanding an explanation. So Adam took a breath and explained his recent reservations about flowers because of the enchanted rose, and the fact that he seemed to now overcome it.

“I never even really thought about it, but I suppose it was a flower that symbolized the entire enchantment. Are you sure you’re all right now?” Adam nodded, but before he could say anything he caught sight of an old man in a straw hat approaching them. Belle noticed Adam’s gaze and turned to see the approaching man.

“Oh, Louis!” Belle exclaimed merrily as the man drew closer, pushing a wheelbarrow.

“Good morning Belle. Your Highness,” the old man replied and bowed to Adam. As he straightened up, Adam was able to catch a glimpse of the man’s face beneath the hat.

“You’re the one who told me about Belle being out in the rain that day,” he realized. Louis nodded, acknowledging the event.

“You didn’t trust I would go inside on my own?” Belle teased good-naturedly. 

“You seemed a bit out of sorts, I thought it best that someone was keeping an eye out for you.”

“Thank you for that,” Adam said. “I didn’t realize I had been ignoring Belle until you sent me to her. You reminded me of what’s important and I never intend to treat Belle that way again.” Again, Louis nodded but did nothing more except begin his work in the garden. 

“I might go study a bit while my uncle is away,” Adam said, Louis unknowingly giving him an idea. “Perhaps you’d like to work here for awhile?”

“Well, I’m quite in the wrong clothes, but if I don’t get too dirty Madam Armoire won’t be too cross.”

“Come and find me when you’re done?” he asked and grinned when Belle nodded in agreement. Adam kissed her goodbye, nodded to Louis, and retreated back inside the castle.

But it wasn’t to his study that Adam’s feet took him. Instead, he wound his way downstairs towards Maurice’s workroom. With Belle safely occupied in the garden, Adam knew it was the perfect opportunity to talk to Maurice privately.

As he approached the door to the workroom, however, his previously confident gait began to falter. His hands started to shake again and his heart pounded in his ears. Once, he actually turned to walk away from the workroom, only to turn around again almost angrily and stride quickly to the door before he could change his mind. 

Adam knocked on the door, almost hoping he wouldn’t be heard amidst the loud banging sounds of Maurice’s work he could hear through the door. But the noises stopped and the door opened, revealing the stout older man wearing the magnified glasses Adam had quickly grown to like. Wordlessly, Maurice pushed the glasses back on his head, looked Adam up and down, and stepped aside to let him in.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come,” Maurice said conversationally as he wiped his hands on a rag and motioned to a stool for him to sit. 

“I’ve been here before,” Adam reminded him as he sat. Before his uncle had come, Adam spent many an enjoyable hour helping Maurice with his inventions. The one Maurice was working on now was a result of their combined ideas. Adam grinned when he looked at the machine and noticed several parts that could not be mistaken for anything else but the legs from the table from his cottage.

“But never just to talk to me,” Maurice said with a smile. Adam froze: could Maurice really have guessed why Adam was there?

“That’s true,” he said slowly.

“Well?”

“I—uh…” Adam took a deep breath and tried to take comfort in the fact that Maurice already seemed to guess why he was there and seemed pleased by it. Another deep breath and the words he had practiced with Lumiere came back to him.

“May I have your blessing to ask for Belle’s hand in marriage?” He said it slowly, making sure to enunciate his words even though he wanted to blurt them all out at once to get it over with. He dared to glance up from where he was concentrating very hard on Maurice’s boots, and was encouraged to see him grinning at him.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Maurice chuckled.

“I—but will you?” Maurice’s response was hardly an answer and Adam began to panic.

“Well, I’ll leave it up to Belle to answer yes or no, of course, but you have my blessing to ask her.”

Adam’s heard soared for a moment, hardly daring to believe that Maurice approved of this after—after everything. Except…

“Do you think she won’t want to?” Adam asked in terror. He couldn’t bear to think that the word coming from Belle’s lips would be ‘no.’ She had said the word to him many times, but that was because he had been disagreeable and mean. Surely this wasn’t the case now?

“I know Belle loves you, but I also know the idea of marriage was never on her mind much.”

“And after Gaston pursued her as he did, she might not want to marry anyone,” Adam finished, his heart sinking. 

“Now, don’t go getting downhearted, I just wanted to be honest. My Belle loves you, I can see that plain as day. And you aren’t demanding her mind and soul like that other horrible fellow was. Just her heart.”

“Well, she has mine, so it’s only fair, don’t you think?” Adam said, cheering up enough to dare to joke a little.

“I should say so. Now, I do have one request.” Adam watched as Maurice went to the workbench at the back of the room, moved a few items around, and reached back to grab something that had been hidden.

“Would you give Belle this when you ask her?” Adam carefully took the small item Maurice offered to him. It was a small wooden box, beautifully carved, Adam suspected by Maurice himself, hinged on one side. Realizing what Maurice just gave him, Adam opened the lid to reveal a dainty silver ring with a single diamond in its center. It was simple, but so beautiful, and Adam felt a smile creep across his face as he pictured it on Belle’s finger.

“It was her mother’s,” Maurice explained, though Adam had already guessed that. “I understand if you already picked out another—” Maurice began hastily, but Adam interrupted him.

“No, this is perfect. Thank you,” he said, feeling gratitude well up from deep inside himself, almost overwhelming him.

“Of course, my boy. Go on and hide it now until you’re ready,” Maurice’s voice cracked as he waved Adam away, his eyes shining bright with what Adam realized were tears. “And good luck,” he added when Adam turned to go. Adam nodded, feeling his stomach twist once again in to nervous knots, and left the workroom. 

_____

Belle came in from working in the garden, washed up, and went in search of Adam in good spirits. He wasn’t in the study as he said he would be, so Belle ventured toward the West Wing, thinking perhaps he had taken his books up there.

She knocked on the massive door, but there was no answer. Slightly frustrated at the time she was wasting searching for him, she decided to check the library. Though they spent so much time there together, Adam did not often go there by himself, but she could think of nowhere else he would go to study.

She never got that far, however. As she climbed back down the steps from the West Wing, she spotted Adam walking down the hall towards her.

“There you are!” she exclaimed and Adam jumped in surprise. As she climbed down the remaining steps and closed the distance between them, she noticed Adam hastily shove something into his pocket.

“Belle! I-I thought you were still in the garden,” he stammered. 

Belle looked at him with one raised eyebrow, curious as to why he was acting so strange but only said: “I just came in a few minutes ago. You asked me to find you, remember?”

“Y-yes. Did you have a good time?” He was blushing now. What was going on?

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.

“Fine,” he replied quickly. “Do you want to meet in the library in a few minutes?”

“Why can’t we just go now?” This was getting very odd indeed.

“Because…because I’ve torn my trousers. I got them caught on your father’s machine.”

“Weren’t you going to study?” she asked.

“I couldn’t concentrate,” he blurted. Belle squinted her eyes at him; he was a terrible liar, but she couldn’t figure out what he might be hiding.

“All right, I’ll meet you in a few minutes,” she agreed, deciding not to press the issue. Whatever he was hiding, it was sure to come out soon.

Still, she couldn’t resist turning to watch Adam’s hasty retreat. Very curious, she thought to herself and continued on her way.

Chapter Text

Belle suppressed a smile as the children sat captivated in front of her. She was worried they wouldn’t want to sit still for the long story she had chosen, but luckily the tale of Robin Hood was as fascinating to them as it had been for her.

She loved reading to the children of the castle; there weren’t many of them, but they seemed to have formed their own little tribe. They were each the other’s brother or sister, whether they were related by blood or not. Sometimes Belle felt it had to be very dull for them while their parents worked during the day, other times she envied their growing up exploring secret passages and unused rooms.

“What about Maid Marian?” one of the girls, Vivian, asked earnestly as Belle finished one short story out of many in the collection of Robin Hood tales.

“They get married, stupid,” one of the boys retorted.

“David, we don’t say things like that,” Belle scolded. “Now apologize.”

“Sorry,” David grunted. “But they do, don’t they?”

“Get married? You’ll have to wait and see now, won’t you?” Belle replied.

“I think they do,” Chip put in. “Like Belle and the Master will, right Belle?”

“I really couldn’t say, Chip,” Belle replied after a moment spent recovering from so direct a question to her heart. “He hasn’t asked me yet.”

“Why not?” several of the children chimed. That was a question Belle herself had been asking for some time now.

“I suppose it’s because he’s been busy with his uncle. Now run along and play. You shouldn’t be inside on a day like this,” she said hastily, eager to have this topic of conversation closed. A few of them groaned, clearly wanting an answer to their question, but they allowed themselves to be shooed out of the library.

As soon as she was alone in the massive room, Belle sat heavily on the cushions of her favorite window seat, mentally exhausted and reeling from the children’s questions.

Why hadn’t Adam asked her to marry him? She was trying to be patient, but it had been almost two months since the enchantment was broken, and the children were not the only ones to be asking questions. Madame Armoire especially had not been shy about mentioning things like what Belle’s wedding gown would look like.

It was too much, too much had happened in such a short amount of time, she reasoned. The timing is all wrong, she told herself, but she couldn’t make herself believe it. And, well…Adam had been acting very peculiar lately. Just the day before she noticed how Adam couldn’t get away fast enough with some odd story about a tear in his trousers. 

Her heart began to beat faster in excitement, but she quickly quelled it, certain she was seeing clues where there were none. 

She stood with sudden determination to visit her father, trying to convince herself that it had nothing to do with her wanting to find out why Adam had been there yesterday in his jacket and good trousers. 

“Papa?” she called as she entered his workroom. “Papa, are you here?”

“Belle?” Her father emerged from underneath his machine. “I thought you’d be in the garden today. It’s a beautiful day.”

“I was just reading to the children,” she explained. “And what about you, cooped up in this room?”

“Oh, I get out, don’t you worry. Have you seen Adam today?”

“I—no, I haven’t. Not since breakfast. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Belle raised an eyebrow at him, but he only smiled and turned back to his machine.

“He said he was down here yesterday,” Belle started conversationally, stepping forward to idly spin a gear on the machine. 

“He was,” Papa confirmed, his voice muffled from beneath the machine. “We got to talking about some improvements on this hunk of junk.” Belle smiled at the familiar phrase her father used for almost every invention he worked on. She wasn’t entirely convinced what he said about Adam was the whole truth, but she knew she wouldn’t get much more out of him while he was working. 

“I’ll see you later, Papa,” she called over the noise of his tools.

“Bye, Belle!” he called, hardly ceasing his work.

Belle left the workroom more confused than before. Adam had been down to see her father but, if Papa was to be believed, it was only to help with his machine. 

Belle shook her head and again tried to stifle the irrational bubble of excitement that grew in her stomach. She retreated to the library with the intent of taking a book outside to read in the warm spring sunlight. Perhaps she would ask Adam to come with her. Surely seeing him calm and acting no differently than usual would ease her wild ideas.

“There you are,” Adam’s voice met her as she approached the library doors. He stepped out of the shadow of the doorway and Belle stopped walking, surprised to see Adam dressed in a rather dashing forest green coat she had not seen before.

Oh dear.

“I was wondering if you might like to come with me to the large gardens. You still haven’t seen them, have you?”

“I haven’t,” she confirmed. “That would be nice.” She had heard that the gardens were more like a maze of flowers and bushes, much different than the mere mounds of snow she had encountered in the winter, and did not want to get lost alone in them. But now Adam’s invitation made her nervous.

Adam grinned at the accepted invitation and offered her his arm, which she willingly took. The fabric of his coat was soft against her skin and she longed to rest her cheek against it. That would have made walking difficult, so she restrained herself.

“You look nice today,” she commented after a moment.

“Thank you,” he responded, but said nothing more. As they drew near the doors, Belle looked up at him to see his expression pulled into one of focus and determination, and he was rather pale. Again, not quite inexplicably, her stomach began to flutter in excitement.

_____

Belle was enjoying herself, exploring the garden he had brought her to. She had only seen it covered in snow, hedges mere snow banks, empty vines black and frozen. Now it had burst into life, blossoms in abundance every way they looked. He loved watching her explore the new surroundings, but his heart thudded so loudly in his chest he was sure she could hear it.

Belle was chatting merrily to him, pointing out the different types of flowers around them, how she couldn’t believe the snows had hidden so much. He tried to contribute to the conversation, but he knew he wasn’t doing a very good job. He was waiting for right the moment, dreading and eager for it equally.

As they approached a stretch of path that was home to thousands of roses of different types and shades, Belle paused to take in their aroma and he knew that the moment had at last arrived.

He took a steadying breath and stepped towards Belle, knowing what he desperately wanted to do but terrified it might go awry. When Belle straightened up from the rose to look at him, Adam was momentarily stunned as he looked into her kind, beautiful hazel eyes.

“Belle,” he started, her name slipping past his lips as he gazed at her. Unable to help himself, he gently brushed back a strand of hair from her forehead and continued the sentence his heart had started for him. “Belle, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied quickly and the emotion and honesty he heard in her voice made his heart swell.

“Are you happy here?” he asked, knowing he had asked such a thing before but needing the reassurance of her inevitably honest answer, whatever it might be.

“Are you happy?” she said, turning the question back on him. Adam felt his eyes widen in surprise; he had never really considered his own happiness before. Everything he had done since…well since the night he had let Belle go just after their first dance, had been for her. Even taking his place in the human world had been because Belle had shown him what was right. But as Adam gazed at Belle, so beautiful and so gentle, he had no doubt of the answer.

“I—yes, I am. Don’t you know how happy you make me?” His word began to flow from his heart of their own accord, speaking truths he never had the courage to say before. “I never thought I would find someone like you. You’re so good and kind. You pulled me out of a nightmare and showed me how good life can be. The world I’m in now is a dream because you exist in it. I never thought it was possible to love someone as deeply as I do you.”

He knelt at Belle’s feet and took her hands, the question rising from his chest and getting caught behind his still-terrified lips. He understood at least one reason why it was that men knelt before their loves: it was less likely he would fall over with fright when he asked the terrifying question. Steeling himself, he looked up at Belle who seemed too stunned to speak. He and Lumiere had practiced what Adam would say again and again, but as Adam gazed up at Belle, his love, what he said next were his own words.

“Belle, I want nothing more but to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you…would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

There was a pause the span of half a heartbeat but what felt to Adam to be as long as a century.

“Yes! Yes, of course I will!” Belle exclaimed and Adam’s heart threatened to burst with overwhelming joy. Nothing, not even the end of the enchantment, could come close to the elation he felt at the knowledge Belle had agreed to marry him, to let him remain by her side.

Adam stood and pulled her into a long kiss, cupping the back of her head to pull her closer to him. But that wasn’t enough, so he wrapped his arms around Belle’s waist, still keeping her in this kiss, and twirled her in a circle. He felt her arms wrap around his neck for support, but did not break the embrace until he placed her safely on the ground again.

“I love you,” he said as they broke away, barely a hands breath apart, hoping Belle wouldn’t tire of hearing those words, for he never grew tired of saying them.

“I love you, too,” she replied and kissed him again.

“Oh, I suppose you can have this now,” he said, remembering the tiny box hidden in his coat. Delicately, he plucked the ring out of its place in the delicate box and presented it to Belle. 

“This was my mother’s,” she breathed as he slipped it on to her finger, managing to remember which one it belonged on. 

“Your father gave it to me,” he explained and kissed the hand he had just placed the ring on. “Is that all right?”

“Of course! I just can’t believe…you really do want to marry me?”

Adam couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Apparently he had successfully stunned her. 

“I know it’s taken me longer than it should have, but yes, I want to spend my life with you. I want to have adventures, and travel, and grow old with you by my side.”

Belle looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears, but before he could worry that he had said something wrong, she stood on tiptoe to pull him into another kiss, and there were no more words between them for quite a long while.

Chapter Text

Adam never understood the expression ‘walking on air’ before, but now he felt the full meaning of it. He was floating, too elated to bother with a silly thing like gravity. Belle had agreed to marry him, he would walk through life with her by his side. He never imagined he would be worthy of having such a life as the one he was building with Belle, and yet here he was.

“Master?” Cogsworth’s voice brought him crashing down as they reentered the castle. He and Belle had been on their way to tell her father the good news, but apparently he would not escape his other duties for that long.

“Not now,” he said as politely as he could. He would not leave Belle’s side, not yet.

“But I have this letter—”

“Cogsworth, don’t you remember what my task was today?” Adam stopped to turn and look at Cogsworth. He knew what today was, he helped coach Adam, to give Adam the courage to ask Belle that all-important question. 

“Y-yes, but this came by special messenger.”

“It’s all right, Adam, you should—”

“No, I shouldn’t. Cogsworth, give me twenty minutes. Surely a letter can wait twenty minutes.” He stared at Cogsworth, daring him to protest one more time. Cogsworth cowed and relented. 

“Twenty minutes,” he promised, lightening his voice, and turned back to continue on his way.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Belle said. 

“I know I should’ve been a bit more patient…” he started, already regretting how harshly he had spoken to Cogsworth. 

“No, I mean you could’ve read the letter first.”

“It’s bad news, otherwise it wouldn’t have come by special messenger. And I don’t want to deal with bad news. Not yet. Right now I just want to feel as happy as I do for another twenty minutes. All right?”

Belle smiled up at him and took hold of his arm once again. 

_____

“Papa?” Belle called as she and Adam entered the workroom. She was a bit nervous to tell her father about their engagement, but she didn’t want him to hear it from anyone else, and the news was sure to spread quickly.

“Belle! And Adam,” her father greeted as he emerged from behind his machine. “What brings you two down here?” 

Belle noticed his wide grin and began smiling herself.

“I think you know perfectly well what we’re doing here.” Her father glanced between her and Adam until Belle held up her hand, displaying the ring as proof of what she suspected he already knew. He said nothing, but stepped forward and embraced her, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in her ear. “And your mother would be, too.” Belle’s eyes welled with tears at that, but she was spared from trying to speak as her father turned to Adam.

“Well done, my boy. Well done, indeed. You take good care of her now, or you can be sure I’ll have something to say about it.”

“I have every intention of doing so,” Adam replied, looking at Belle with such obvious warmth Belle couldn’t help but blush. 

“Well, let me know the wedding plans when you have them. I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Papa,” she said, grateful for the offer although she wasn’t quite sure what he could do. Still, he wanted to be useful and she would make sure he was.

They lingered for a few minutes, going over the where and the hows of the proposal, and she smiled when Adam admitted how nervous he had been. She couldn’t quite believe she meant so much to one person, but she couldn’t doubt what she saw in his eyes whenever he looked at her. 

“I have a feeling your twenty minutes are up,” Belle said after awhile, not wanting to give up these precious moments of bliss, but knowing Adam needed to see to whatever was in that letter. 

“I think you’re right,” Adam agreed with a heavy sigh.

“What’s this about?” Papa asked.

“Adam got a letter from his uncle, by special messenger, but hasn’t read it yet. He wanted to come down here first,” Belle explained and smirked at how Papa seemed to swell at being chosen first. 

“Run along now and help your fiancé, then,” Papa said. “I’ll see you at dinner.” With a warm, loving smile directed at her, Papa shooed them out. Belle’s heart gave a comfortable flutter at the words ‘your fiancé’ and followed Adam back into the hall.

“Fiancé,” Adam chuckled as he closed the door behind them.

“Don’t you like it?” she teased.

“It’s just odd hearing it. I never thought anything like this would happen to me. It’s still a shock just to wake up in the morning and find that I’m not covered in fur or have a tail,” Adam admitted with a crooked, guilty sort of smile.

“You’re lucky you’ve put me in such a good mood, otherwise I’d scold you and tell you how much you deserve to be happy, Beast or no,” Belle replied, stepping closer to her betrothed and running her hand along his jaw.

“You can’t really be saying that you’d still want to be with me if I was still the Beast,” he protested, his voice and expression made it clear that such a thing could not be possible.

“And what if I am? It wouldn’t matter to me, because I fell in love with you. Not Beast, and not the human man I suspected was inside. Just you. Though I’m sure it’s a bit easier for my father to approve of us now that you’re human,” she amended.

“But, I don’t—” Adam began, but Belle put a hand to his lips to stop his words.

“When you were…were dying on the balcony when, well…you know.” Belle wasn’t willing to recall too much detail about that horrible moment. She saw it enough in her nightmares. “I would’ve given anything just for you to be all right. I never asked, never wanted anything more than for you to come back to me, to see you look at me again and hear your voice. All I wanted was to have you back, any way I could.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Adam stammered after a moment. “I know you somehow were able to see beyond the Beast, but that it really didn’t matter to you? Truly?”

“Truly.” Belle could see Adam try to comprehend such an idea, so Belle pushed herself onto her toes and kissed him, successfully drawing his attention back to what was more important: that she and Adam were alive, were well, and were together.

_____

Gustave’s letter explained in hasty, scribbled words that he was bringing with him two nobles who had land within the combined provinces. 

“They’ll be here in a week, they’re already on their way,” Adam added, reading the words on the page, willing more information from the short note where there was none. 

“So does this mean you’re alive again to the outside world?”

“I hope so. There wasn’t much in the letter, so I don’t know much. I guess we’ll have to wait until they arrive. Will you be there with me when they come?”

“Always,” she promised and his heart tightened pleasantly at that one word. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now,” she added, teasing.

“Good,” he said and rose from his chair, kissing the top of her head as he stood to make preparations. 

_____

“They’re right behind me. I’ll tell you more later, but they're here for the same reason as the advisors were supposed to be, so stick with the plan,” Uncle Gustave puffed as he hurried out of his carriage and towards where Adam was standing with Belle, waiting for their guests. 

“Were you, ah…successful in your goal while I was gone?”

Adam grinned at his uncle and turned to Belle. “Well, was I?” he asked her. He watched as Belle’s lips turned into a smile of understanding and leaned around Adam to respond to Gustave.

“I’d say so,” she said simply and held her hand towards Gustave to show off her new ring.

“Wonderful, wonderful! I’m happy for you both of course, but you should know that the Marquis brought his daughter along and she’s…well she’s rather keen. Welcome!” Gustave said, changing gears so fast Adam was reeling with it while strangers emerged from the carriage that had pulled up. 

Keen on what? Adam managed to think before the first visitor’s foot touched the ground.

The first to emerge was a middle-aged man, who quickly turned to help who Adam assumed was the man’s daughter. Both were wearing outfits of silk and jewels, quite unsuitable for traveling and Adam realized they had chosen their outfits to intimidate and impress. He inwardly winced, wondering what chaos they would bring. 

Fortunately, their attempts to intimidate were ruined slightly by the more appropriately dressed, open faced man who stepped out behind him. He seemed older, his hair peppered with equal parts grey and brown and wore a kind smile. 

“May I present His Highness, Prince Adam Christophe, and his fiancee Lady Belle,” Gustave introduced formally, though Adam was grateful Gustave did not use all of his names and had provided Belle with a title. He did notice the gilded man and his daughter glance at each other as they bowed to him, though. At their bows, Adam had to fight to keep from taking a step backward; he would never get used to such a thing. As a child he remembered enjoying it, far too much, but now…

“Your Highness, this is the Marquis de Beauvau and his daughter Nicole, and the Comte de Bourbon.” Adam bowed as he had been taught, slightly at the waist but low enough to pay the correct amount of respect. Too low and it would be an alarming amount of reverence to a lesser lord, too little, and it would be insulting. Bows were terribly confusing things.

“I’m so pleased you’ve come,” Adam said, trying to enunciate his words as elegantly as he could. “I know there is…much confusion about my long absence. I welcome the opportunity to discuss this with you. Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth will take care of your servants,” he added, motioning to the two who jumped into action, taking two valets and a handmaid into their charge. 

Adam offered his arm to Belle and led them all into a formal parlor he rarely used. As they walked, Adam brought his other hand up to rest above Belle’s, squeezing her fingers in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. Her only response was to move her hand to catch his, subtly squeezing back, giving him strength enough to face the next hurdle.

The next several hours were spent relaying to the visitors the story he and his uncle devised during their long tutoring sessions. Adam and Gustave told the story of how Adam had been sen away to escape the fever that had claimed his mother and sister, and had remained abroad for years to further his education, as his late father wished for him.

“Then why did he claim that you had died?” the Marquis interrupted.

“Grief, I’m afraid,” Gustave said before Adam had a chance. “He could not face that half of his family had perished, and found it easier to erase them all rather than bear the burden of a motherless child. I did not approve, but it was not my decision to make.”

Adam knew this was the tale Gustave would tell, and that there was indeed nuggets of truth in it, but at the words ‘motherless child’ memories flashed in his mind, things he had not thought of in years. His mother’s smile, her warm voice, her comforting embrace. He nearly staggered with it, but caught himself in time. 

The tale they told the nobles now was the same they had intended to tell Gustave’s advisors, the same one Adam had initially intended to tell Gustave, with a few embellishments here and there. He had so little notice for the change of audience, he was glad that he and Gustave had discussed it before he left. He didn’t even know yet why these nobles had come instead of Gustave’s advisors, only that they had come to see if Adam was indeed who he said he was. 

Not even Belle, who originally was so insistent that Adam reveal the enchantment to his uncle, argued with their plan to lie to the rest of the world. She agreed that the less people outside the ones who already knew, the better. Something as unbelievable as the enchantment should be kept within a small circle, since it would quickly ruin Adam if it was not accepted. And, judging by the Marquis’ attitude alone, it had been a wise decision.

“You had not heard from the prince in ten years?” the Marquis demanded when their tale was done. 

“I was traveling quite frequently. I imagine many of my letters had gotten lost,” Adam explained, prepared for this question at least. “If I had known my father was ill, or had told others I had died, I would have returned home sooner, of course.”

“But how did—”

“Dinner is served,” Cogsworth announced, arriving to interrupt the Marquis before he could ask any more awkward questions.

“Thank you, Cogsworth,” Adam said, trying not to sound too relieved, and stood to lead everyone into the dining room.

Before he could offer Belle his arm once more, the Marquis’ daughter, Nicole, swooped in and took hold of his elbow. Adam was shocked at the girl’s forwardness and looked back at Belle for help as the girl fairly dragged him away from the others. Belle only smirked in amusement and let him go.

“Where were you really, Your Highness?” Nicole asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. She was young, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, and pouted her lips at him in a way he supposed was meant to make her seem more sweet, but Adam sincerely doubted she was as innocent as she was trying to appear. 

“Traveling, as I said,” he grunted and all but shook her off as they approached the table, ignoring her as he went to hold a chair out for Belle to the left of his own chair at the head of the table.

Somehow, Adam made it through dinner without giving away the lies he told his guests and successfully avoided Nicole’s persistent gaze. He knew now what Gustave meant by ‘keen.’ Meanwhile, the Marquis was making snide remarks aimed at him, disregarding the respect that was due to a prince. Adam kept his temper, at least enough to reply politely time after time, but then the conversation somehow turned to how Adam had met Belle.

“I don’t recall anyone by your name in the surrounding noble families, my dear,” the Marquis said after Adam refused to fall for his torments. “Where are you from?”

Adam inwardly groaned; for all their preparations, somehow they had forgotten to think of an acceptable story for Belle. What would the Marquis say if they told the truth?

It doesn’t matter, Adam told himself resolutely.

“She was a guest of mine,” Adam replied vaguely. 

“While you were traveling?”

“No, when I returned back here in the autumn. She stayed with me for several months and I couldn’t help but fall in love with her,” he said, casting a warm look at Belle.

“But, and I ask again, where are you from?” the Marquis pressed.

“She is from the local village, sir,” Adam responded, his anger finally beginning to bubble to the surface. “And I expect nothing but courtesy and respect shown towards her, for soon she will be my wife and I will give her full permission to treat any who disobey me as she sees fit.”

Adam couldn’t help the small inward smile at the Marquis’ shocked expression and his stammered apology. Apparently the lack of fangs and claws did not mean he could not intimidate. He did not like losing his temper, it reminded him too much of who he used to be, but no one would insult Belle in front of him. 

“That’s lovely, my dear,” the Comte put in calmly. “I would so like to hear more about your life there.”

“Would you really?” Belle sounded genuinely surprised, mirroring Adam's reaction to his words.

“Yes, indeed. The Comtesse and I take great pride in our villages. She could not make the journey today, since she has been taken ill, but I feel sure the two of you would be good friends.”

“Please send her our regards. I should like to meet her,” Belle replied with a pleasant smile. 

“I will, my lady, thank you.”

Adam sighed with relief; at least someone here was treating Belle with the kindness she deserved.

_____

“Well at least that’s over,” Adam sighed after the Marquis’ daughter finally left the parlor where Adam, Belle, and their guests had gone after dinner. The Marquis and the Comte had left for their rooms almost an hour earlier, but Nicole had insisted on discussing Adam’s travels with him, attempting to sit as close as possible while he came up with lies to tell, and all but ignoring Belle.

“I don’t think your troubles with her will be over until we are married,” Belle replied and Adam smiled at the slight huff in her voice.

“Why Belle, you’re not jealous, are you?” he teased gently.

“Of her? Impossible. I know you’d never fall for someone as dimwitted as her. At least, I hope you wouldn’t.”

“You are jealous!” he exclaimed and went to embrace her, strangely adoring the fact that she was threatened by this silly girl.

“And you are enjoying this far too much,” she retorted as she obligingly wrapped her arms around him. 

“This is new for me; I’ve never had so many women pining for my attention before,” he continued to tease her a bit.

“You’re not funny, you know,” she said indignantly, her voice muffled by his coat as she leaned her head on his chest.

“I’m sorry, my love. Nicole’s just a silly girl looking to raise her status. You’re not really upset, are you?”

“Of course not,” she said, raising her head so Adam could see her smile. “But she’s going to be quite a handful while she’s here. You’ll have to be on your toes.”

“Her father isn’t all that wonderful, either,” Adam added. “The longer he stays, I’m afraid he’ll find out we’ve lied to them.”

“I’m glad you told the truth about me, though,” Belle said, her hand coming up to comb her fingers gently through his hair. “I know it will make everything a bit harder, but…”

“I couldn’t lie about how I met you,” Adam interrupted, removing her hand from its nervous movements in his hair to enfold it in his own hands. “Well, not much anyway. You’re the one good thing that’s ever happened to me. Lying about it just seemed so…so wrong.”

“Thank you,” she said and burrowed her cheek into his jacket once again. Adam folded his arms around her slight figure and knew that, with her by his side, he could face anything, even the horrid Marquis and his contemptible daughter. 

Chapter Text

Adam’s patience had never been so strongly tested as it was during the Marquis’ stay, despite Belle’s helpful presence. The Comte was a cheery, down-to-earth man who reminded Adam strongly of Belle’s father, but the Marquis was disagreeable enough to overshadow any good the Comte’s presence might have provided. 

At Gustave’s suggestion, Adam took his guests on a tour of the castle the following afternoon, making sure to show them several portraits of Adam’s family that now hung in some of the halls so they might see the similarities between him and the child captured in the paintings.

These portraits had been recently taken from storage where the servants had hid them. Adam had ordered them destroyed shortly after his father left him, but now Adam was glad to find the servants had disobeyed him in this. Though it was odd to see these portraits, feeling rather like ghosts from the past, they were useful to prove that Adam was who he claimed to be. And it was good to see his mother and sister’s faces again. 

One portrait in particular Adam found in the north hall pulled at his heart in a way he had not experienced since he was a boy. The portrait was of his entire family: father, mother, sister, and himself.

Adam could remember sitting for the painting; he was four at the time and whined about how his stiff outfit itched his neck. But the little boy in the silly suit could not be anyone but Adam, with his blue eyes that were just like his father’s, his nose that was identical to his mothers. It would confirm Adam’s claim even to the disagreeable Marquis.

It was odd to see himself as a child, ignorant to what was waiting for him. This boy had no idea that the mother and sister he stood beside would be dead in no more than five years, that the father who stood stiffly to his other side would abandon him, and that he himself would fall victim to an enchantment that would haunt his dreams even after it was broken.

Adam looked away from this ignorant, selfish boy, ignoring altogether his dark-hared, stern father who stood beside the boy, and found himself lingering instead on the faces of his mother and sister.

His sister, who was two years old at the time the portrait was done, had also been fussing about her itchy outfit and Adam smiled, remembering how she toddled behind him, mimicking him almost constantly. He had hated it at the time, but now Adam only found the memory endearing. She looked content in the painting, smiling sweetly from her place in their mother’s lap, wearing a pale pink dress, her strawberry blond curls framing her face. His mother’s hands were wrapped around his sister’s stomach, holding the girl in place.

His mother smiled down at Adam as he gazed at the painting. Though frozen in time. her smile was comforting to Adam and he found himself drawing forward memories of her embrace, her voice, and the sweet smile that would calm him when he was at his worst. 

“You look so much like your father, Your Highness,” the Comte remarked, breaking into Adam’s thoughts. “But, if I may say, you have your mother’s soul.”

“Thank you,” Adam replied, bowing his head slightly at the compliment, glad that someone else here had known her. “No one could have such a kind heart as her, though.”

“I think Lady Belle could match her,” the Comte said with a smile and Adam beamed, pleased that he could see how wonderful Belle was in such a short time.

“Ah, yes, the farm girl,” the Marquis cut in. “Are you sure such a match is suitable, Your Highness? Sweet as she is?”

Adam’s smile immediately dropped and he bit back several harsh words he wouldn’t have hesitate speaking, or bellowing, when he was still the Beast.

“She is the better of any noble woman I could possibly imagine. She is kind, and generous, and the only woman I could ever spend my life with.”

He was all to aware he had all but insulted Nicole, but he didn’t care. In another life, he might very well would have had to marry Nicole or someone like her, and that idea was appalling to him. Judging by the rather purple hue the Marquis was turning, he was well aware of the insult himself.

“Now see here…” the Marquis huffed. But before he could get much further, the Comte stepped in.

“I’m getting quite hungry. Perhaps we should collect the ladies and find some luncheon?”

“Good idea,” Adam said with a grateful nod.

“I daresay we’ll insult poor Cogsworth if we do not appear soon,” Gustave agreed. The Marquis was still sputtering as they turned to go, but none of them acknowledged it. Adam grinned, hiding it beneath his hand, glad to have an ally.

“Oh, Lumiere,” he called as he spotted the maitre d’ in the hall. “Will you find Belle and Lady Nicole and ask them to join us for luncheon?”

“At once, Master. And I am sure Belle would welcome a break from entertaining Lady Nicole,” Lumiere added in an undertone and Adam chuckled in understanding, certain that Nicole was trying even Belle’s patience by now.

_____

Adam had taken the Comte and the Marquis on a tour of the castle, but Nicole found the idea of wandering the halls exhausting and boring. Instead, she insisted on spending the morning with Belle. 

Belle, who personally was very interested in how their guests would react to Adam and the portraits that had so recently been hung up, dreaded spending time alone with Nicole. She was certain the girl had some sort of agenda in mind and did not enjoy having to endure such a thing.

“This is lovely,” Nicole said as the men started on their way. “Just us girls.”

“Perhaps I could show you the library,” Belle suggested, at least wanting to be somewhere comfortable for what would undoubtedly be a trying day.

“Only if you wish to bore me,” Nicole sneered with disgust. 

“Don’t you like to read?” Belle asked innocently, already knowing the answer.

“Don’t tell me you do?”

“Of course. We need to keep our minds sharp if we are to keep up with what our fathers and future husbands do, don’t you think?” Belle said, playing to an aspect of reading that Nicole might possibly relate to.

“Ladies have quite enough to do by being a good hostess, planning and organizing parties, and giving a good impression to people important to fathers and future husbands,” Nicole countered. 

Belle could do nothing but stare at the girl in shock. This girl desired nothing more than to be a smiling doll who serves tea. For women to take such a passive roll was what people like Gaston wanted, something Belle could never accept. Planning a party was exhausting, certainly, and Belle knew well the difficulties that came with it, but there was so much more to life than that.

“Well, what would you like to do then?” Belle asked, knowing from her exhaustive experiences with Gaston that nothing she said would change this girl’s mind.

“I find embroidery quite relaxing, though I’m sure you haven’t had much practice in such delicate work,” Nicole replied with a sickly sweet smile and Belle pursed her lips.

No, she hadn’t much experience with sitting and sewing for hours only to have the resulting flower be put on a pillow that’s going to be sat on. But she wasn’t about to admit it to this girl, so she merely summoned a servant and asked the maid who arrived to bring them embroidery materials.

“I—really?” Michelle, the housemaid, asked in surprise.

“You were just given an order, I believe,” Nicole said. “That usually requires an action on your part.”

Belle looked an apology at Michelle, but she wasn’t sure she noticed.

“Yes, my lady,” Michelle said, demurred and looking at her shoes before she hurried away.

“That was rude,” Belle remarked, turning back to Nicole.

“She’s only a servant,” Nicole dismissed.

“She’s a person who deserves respect,” Belle retaliated, knowing it was useless to argue but unable to help herself.

“My poor dear, you’re quite unaware of how it all works, aren’t you?” Nicole said, patting Belle’s arm with a look of pity in her face. “Come, we’ll go to the parlor where we can talk and sew more comfortably. If you agree, that is.”

Belle waved her hand, motioning silently for Nicole to go first, not trusting herself to speak.

Hours later, Belle’s mood had not improved. Nicole had taken it upon herself to teach Belle the fine art of embroidery, during which Nicole insisted on also talking of the fashions of the court, and the nobles she disliked. 

Nicole talked far too much to allow Belle to add more than occasional nods or words of agreement, which she was glad about. It allowed her mind to wander to other things. That is, until Nicole’s endless prattle turned to Adam.

“It’s lucky that such a high born noble is so handsome. Most of them are unfortunate-looking or disgustingly old,” was one of the phrases that caught Belle’s attention between her daydreams.

“Yes, lucky,” Belle muttered when Nicole paused, clearly expecting a response. 

“But of course you won’t be burdened with all this courtly nonsense for long,” Nicole added, barely glancing up from her sewing.

“Excuse me?” Belle said, lowering her barely touched embroidery to stare at Nicole in disbelief. 

“Well, sooner or later Adam will realized that marrying—well, me for example, would be a much smarter match for everyone involved. It’s what will be expected, you understand.”

Belle fought to keep her patience but could not stop her hands from trembling in fury.

“You do know Adam and I are engaged,” she replied, pleased with how even she was able to keep her voice. 

“But not married. Nothing is final until the vows.”

Belle was saved from answering as Lumiere entered the room.

“Pardon me. Prince Adam has sent me to tell you they are waiting in the dining room for you to join them for luncheon.”

“Thank you, Lumiere,” Belle sighed and did her best not to run from the room.

“Enjoying yourself?” Lumiere muttered to her as he escorted them to the dining room. 

She, Adam, and the servants had to all be on their best show while the nobles were visiting the castle, the better to help improve the image of Adam’s delicate claim to his own title. But Belle found many of the customs stuffy and pointless, such as having to be escorted nearly everywhere or being addressed as if she were a stranger to these kind people. 

Lumiere, at least, was good enough to put on a show for their guests while still managing to keep the more familiar, comfortable interaction with her without the others noticing.

“Does it show?” she replied and met Lumiere’s sympathetic gaze.

“Do not worry, ma cherie. They will not be here forever.” Belle smiled at Lumiere’s words, but found little comfort in them.

As they entered the dining room, the men stood and Belle met Adam’s eyes. It was clear by his expression that Adam was having just as difficult a day as she was. All she could do was give him a sympathetic look and do her best to get through the meal.

By some stroke of luck, the Marquis and Nicole both wished to rest for the afternoon, which Belle found rather silly, but it allowed both she and Adam a chance to breathe.

“I think we’re the ones who deserve a rest after that,” the Comte said after the Marquis and his horrible daughter left for their rooms. Belle was surprised to hear him voice the exact sentiment she was thinking herself and a relived giggle escaped her.

“You too?” Adam asked, smiling at her.

“If the Marquis is half the handful Nicole is, I feel very sorry for you both,” Belle replied, knowing she shouldn’t say such things but unable to help herself.

“I didn’t have much time to warn you,” Gustave said apologetically.

“I’m glad you’re here at least, monsieur,” Belle said and smiled at the Comte. “It’s good to have a friendly face to countermand the others.”

“Thank you, my lady. I’m glad I can be of some service to you.”

“He tried to come to your defense earlier,” Adam put in and Belle smiled gratefully at the older man.

“Thank you, monsieur…Comte, I mean,” she said awkwardly, aware that there was some sort of title she would be expected to call him but unsure of what to say.

“Charles suits me well enough, my lady,” the Comte said, coming to her rescue.

“Only if you call me Belle,” she returned happily.

“Not in front of the Marquis, though. He has a hard enough time with you already without finding out you’re calling your noble tenants by their given names,” the Comte said with a kind smile. Belle was so glad there was at least one kind-hearted soul amongst he nobility she was about to be thrust into as Adam’s wife.

“Now, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to take a walk around the grounds. They are quite beautiful.” 

Adam nodded and the Comte—Charles—made his way outside.

“What a kind man,” Belle said as he disappeared out the dining room.

“I think I’ll go work on some letters that need my attention,” Gustave said. “Will you join me, Adam?”

Belle held her breath, not wanting to sway him away from his duties, but hoping he might choose differently.

“Not just now, Uncle. If you don’t mind, I need some time.”

“As you wish.” Gustave left as well, and then it was just she and Adam.

“The library?” Adam asked her with a hopeful smile.

“The library,” she confirmed and together they went to escape for a few hours into a world where the Marquis and Nicole did not exist.

Chapter Text

The Marquis and Nicole did not improve at all during the rest of their stay. Adam did manage to keep Belle from spending any more time alone with Nicole, at least. She had told him of their conversation in the parlor and Nicole’s intentions to marry Adam no matter what. Adam was disgusted by the girl’s persistence in the matter, and her rudeness towards Belle.

What he had really wanted to do was throw Nicole out after saying such things, but he knew that to do so would ruin all that he and Gustave had done to impress them, to earn their favor so they might spread the message of Adam’s return to the world. The Marquis could easily deny that Adam was who he claimed to be, but they could prove the Marquis a liar with little more than the portraits and Gustave’s testimonial. Still, Adam held his temper; it would make things far more complicated than they needed to be.

Belle understood, as she always did when Adam managed to find the words to explain himself, and in return Adam could only make sure he was not subjected to Nicole’s plots by herself.

Nicole, for her part, was forward and cunning, all but throwing herself at him, touching his arm at every opportunity, complimenting him, even going so far as suggesting how she might improve upon how the castle was run. Adam had no frame of reference for this kind of behavior and, though he had absolutely no intention of condoning her actions, he didn’t know how to stop it gracefully. Many, many times Adam was tempted to give in to his barely suppressed temper if only to get the girl to stop hanging on his arm. But the results would be disatrous, and so he held out, waiting for the calm hours he could spend alone with Belle after Nicole went to bed. 

At last, the week was over, perhaps one of the longest weeks in Adam’s memory, and he and Belle gladly stood outside the doors of the castle to bid their guests goodbye. The Marquis bowed to Adam and quickly disappeared into the carriage. Clearly, the Marquis had enjoyed his stay as much as they enjoyed having him.

But his daughter lingered in front of Adam, smiling up at him through her eyelashes. Adam did his best to keep his face in an expression of polite attention as she spoke of her next visit to the castle. 

“I should so like to get to know you better, Your Highness,” she finished and held her hand out to him. Adam took it and bent over it as was proper, but did not kiss it as Nicole so clearly expected.

“Perhaps, if we are lucky, the next time you visit will be for my marriage to Lady Belle,” he said, knowing it would irk Nicole to hear the words ‘my,’ ‘marriage,’ and ‘Belle’ in the same sentence.

“Of—of course, Your Highness,” she stammered, recollecting herself, and Adam watched the scheming hope in her eyes fade.

Without another word, and with absolutely no acknowledgment to Belle, Nicole disappeared into the shadow of the carriage to join her father.

“You’ve done well, Your Highness,” the Comte said, lingering till last. “Don’t think I believe your story of all this traveling, but it doesn’t matter. You may rely on a positive report from me, should any questions arise. I was friends with your mother, you see. We’ve actually met once before, though you were little more than two years old at the time, I believe.”

“Really?” Adam was surprised, wondering why he didn’t mention it before. 

“She was a lovely creature, and cared for you very much. I’m glad you’ve come back to the world, wherever you’ve been hiding.”

“T-thank you,” Adam stammered, fear at being found out at the last second coursing through him, but the Comte only turned to Belle.

“I hope to see you again soon, my dear,” the Comte moved to say goodbye to Belle, freeing Adam.

“Thank you, Charles. Please send my greetings to your wife. I’d love to meet her,” Belle said, taking the Comte’s outstretched hand warmly.

“I will. Thank you for your hospitality.” With one last bow, the Comte climbed into the carriage.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Gustave said quickly, getting ready to hop into the carriage after the other nobles. “I’ve just got to see that all our hard work wasn’t for nothing, and that they accept you. And that I can use that to convince the rest,” he added as an afterthought. “Then we can write to the king with that proof and have you at last reinstated.”

“You never said—” Adam said quickly, stopping his uncle from leaving. “You never said why you brought them here. I thought you were fetching your advisors.”

“They’ll be coming soon. But several nobles were present when I got back to town and—well, long story short, I ended up having to ask for volunteers to witness my incredible claim about you. The Marquis volunteered first, and the Comte second. After that I insisted it was enough for a start and turned away the rest. I’m sorry I couldn’t explain before, but I think this was a success.”

Adam nodded, but before he could think of anything to say, Gustave had hopped into the carriage and was off. 

“I’d like to know what that ‘long story’ consists of,” Belle muttered beside him. Adam glanced at her, but said nothing, surprised by her suspicion. 

Minutes later, the carriage and its retinue were out of sight amongst the trees.

Adam sighed in relief and sunk down to sit on the steps, unable to stand any longer once the pressures of the week finally lifted from his shoulders. Belle joined him, leaning back on her elbows and tilting her head to soak in the sun’s warm rays. 

Adam watched her in silence for a moment as the servants, assembled to bid the nobles an honerable farewell, filed back inside. His eyes followed the pale arch of her neck to the tresses of her hair that shimmered in the sunlight. The stress of the week had kept him from spending the time he wished to with Belle, but he was infinitely grateful that it was she who was by his side and not Nicole. 

He shivered as he thought again how, had the Enchantress not intervened, Adam might have been the perfect match for the self-important, social climbing girl.

“What is it?” Belle asked, opening her eyes to look at him.

“I’m just glad I’m not marrying Nicole,” he said simply. Belle smile and moved her hand so it rested on his.

“Me too,” she agreed and Adam noticed the sparkle of her ring as it caught the sun’s rays.

“You were wonderful this week,” he said, sitting up straighter and properly taking hold of her hand. “Thank you for everything you did. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t for you, either,” she reminded him. “Hopefully the next time we see Nicole and her father, it will be in a crowd.”

“Where we can easily avoid them,” he agreed with a chuckle. 

“I did like Charles, though,” she continued. “I’d like to invite him and his wife here. I think Papa would like him, too. He’s got to come out of his workroom at some point, and I think they would be the perfect transition into this sort of life.”

“Not the Marquis?” he teased. “You can invite whomever you like here, Belle. This is your home, remember?”

Belle smiled and turned her face back to the sun. 

“It’s so nice out now,” she said, her voice slightly strained through her tilted throat.

“We should go on that picnic we had talked about,” Adam suggested, remembering their walk to the small, soggy garden before he had proposed to her.

“I’d like that. Not today, though. Today we need to recuperate and remember that not everyone is as horrid as Nicole.”

“She really did bother you, didn’t she?” Adam felt horrible at exposing Belle to such a person for his own agenda. It would have been one thing if she had met them at some sort of social gathering where Adam could not have prevented it, but they were only at the castle because of him.

“I think it’s because she reminded me so much of…of Gaston,” she admitted, moving to hug her arms around her knees. His stomach lurched at the very name, but he let her contiue. “They’re both so…so full of themselves it’s astonishing. And neither of them think much of what women are capable of, either. Even Nicole thinks all we’re good for is planning parties.”

“That’s stupid,” he said bluntly. “I guess it’s true that I relied on you to put together that celebration for the end of the enchantment, but that’s only because I’m horrible at that sort of thing. You are capable of so much more than that, I hope you know. You could probably rule the lands better than I ever could.”

He spoke candidly and honestly, disgusted that Nicole should say such things and hoping Belle wouldn’t get the wrong idea of what might be ‘expected’ of her. 

“You know you can be as involved as you want to be in anything you wish, or not at all.”

“I know, and honestly I wouldn’t be marrying you if I thought the opposite were true,” she said with a half-teasing smirk. “And I have a few semi-ideas I’ll tell you about another time. It just took me by surprise hearing her say that. I expected it from primeval men like Gaston, but not from a girl who has the opportunity to do so much.”

“She’s just a child. Maybe she’ll come to her senses,” Adam hoped, though he seriously doubted it.

“We should go put the servants at ease,” she said, standing up and brushing off her dress. “They did well this week, but I know more than a few prides were bruised.”

“One moment,” he said, standing up himself and catching hold of her hand as she began to walk away. He drew her gently towards him and wrapped his arms around her, holding her so closely to him he could hear her breathing. 

“I love you,” he said softly, looking into the familiar hazel pools of her eyes, still filled with the memories of the past week and of a horrible, misogynistic man who still haunted her dreams.

Belle smiled and Adam watched the last of the frustrations leave her eyes. She raised her face to his and he leaned down to kiss her, feeling their lips meet in a familiar moment of joy. 

“I love you,” she said as they parted, but Adam was not ready to let her lips free so soon. 

Chapter Text

After she and Adam had gone to thank the servants and sooth their wounded pride, especially those of Cogsworth and Lumiere, Belle decided she should go down to see her father. He had made good on his determined statement to disappear while the nobles were visiting, so Belle had barely seen him at all that week. But Belle entered his workroom only to find that her father was not there.

“That’s funny,” she said aloud to herself, her voice echoing in the massive, silent room. She could almost always find her father down in his workroom tinkering on his latest invention or even something in the castle that was in need of repair. He was becoming quite the favorite amongst the castle’s children for fixing their toys for them.

She was at a bit of a loss at where to look for him; he never ventured very far between his room and the workroom, but now he was in neither of those two places. None of the servants she had come across on her search seemed to know where she was, either.

“I do recall Mrs. Potts mentioning seeking out your father,” Cogsworth said when Belle had asked him. “That could have been yesterday, though. Goodness, this week has completely gotten away from me!”

“Maybe you should try to relax,” Belle suggested, unable to keep from noticing how high strung he seemed. More than usual, that is. Belle knew that Cogsworth hardly breathed without finding something to worry over, or to quarrel with Lumiere about, but with the pressure of their recents guests and having a long list of things to do from Gustave, Cogsworth had truly begun to concern Belle.

“No time, no time. What with the wedding and Adam’s reinstatement as prince, there’s so much to do!”

“Well the wedding won’t be for awhile yet. We haven’t even begun to decide anything, so please promise me you’ll take some time to relax. I insist,” she said, trying to make her words hold weight with Cogsworth. He would worry himself into an early grave over all the work he gave himself; if only he trusted others to help him more. 

“When there is time,” he said dismissively.

“Tomorrow,” she retaliated. “I’ll arrange it with Adam and see that Lumiere and Mrs. Potts know what to expect. Go into town, walk along the grounds, anything that you would like to do that has nothing to do with running the castle.”

“I—I haven’t…I don’t know…”

“Well, then you best figure it out before tomorrow,” she said with a smile and left Cogsworth utterly flabbergasted. Belle doubted very much that Cogsworth had ever had a day off in his life, but it was high time he did.

But she was still no closer to finding her father.

She had nearly given up after almost a half hour of searching when she passed the door to one of the smaller sitting rooms and heard her father’s laugh behind the door. 

Belle paused, not wanting to disturb whoever it was her father was talking to, but she had come such a long way to find him. And, if she was honest with herself, she was curious as to who was in there with him. She knocked and opened the door to have her suspicions confirmed: Mrs. Potts was sitting across from her father, wiping her eyes as she fought to control her laughter.

“Belle!” her father exclaimed with a wide grin when he noticed her.

“Hello,” she greeted, failing to supress a smile of delight at seeing the two of them together. “You two seem to be having fun. I don’t want to interrupt, I was only looking for you, Papa.”

“Maggie was just telling me about the little Marquess,” her father said and motioned to an empty chair. Belle sat at his invitation, but had already decided not to stay long.

“Maggie?”

“It’s my name, dear,” Mrs. Potts said with a small smile. “Though heaven knows no one uses it.”

“Why not? It’s a lovely name,” Belle recovered quickly. Oddly enough, it had never occurred to Belle that Mrs. Potts might have ever been called anything else, except by Chip of course, who called her ‘Mamma.’

“No one ever calls the housekeeper by her first name. I haven’t been called Maggie here since my husband died. I almost forgot what it was.” Papa chuckled and Belle grinned. She was glad that Mrs. Potts and Papa had grown into a first-name relationship, but Belle could not help feeling a little odd at calling the motherly woman anything but Mrs. Potts.

“How did you get along with the prissy little thing?” Papa asked her.

“Oh, Nicole? Let’s just say I’m not looking forward to seeing her again,” Belle said, trying to keep this distain from her voice but not quite managing it.

“Was she really that bad?” Papa asked, his eyebrows knitting together with concern. “You can usually get along with almost anyone.”

“If you could imagine anyone as awful as Gaston, all his vanity and arrogance wrapped up in the body of a sixteen year old girl, that is Nicole. And she’s so determined to marry Adam, so sure that I won’t want to stay with him once I understand what’s in store for me as a prince’s wife and that she can just swoop in and claim him. Well, I know what difficulties I’ll face, but I’ll face them together with Adam,” she finished determinedly, growing angry again at the memory of Nicole’s words.

“Well, there’s no hope for that silly girl,” Mrs. Potts said with a nod of certainty. “Not from what I’ve seen.”

“That boy would do anything for you,” Papa agreed and Belle felt her cheeks grow warm. 

“Goodness, I should get back to work,” Mrs. Potts said suddenly, rising from her chair reluctently. 

“Stay, won’t you?” Papa asked. “The castle won’t fall without you.”

“It might,” Belle laughed. “But you should stay anyway. I’ll see that everything runs smoothly, don’t worry.”

“But, Belle, I can’t just…” Mrs. Potts started but Belle interrupted her. 

“Papa could use the company, I think. I’d be impressed if you could keep him out of his workroom a little while longer.”

“Actually, I’d love the excuse to sit for a little while,” Mrs. Potts admitted, looking rather guilty for saying it. “There will be so much to do in a few weeks, for the wedding. I’d like to enjoy the calm before the storm.”

“Oh, that reminds me. I’m making Cogsworth take the day off tomorrow. When I saw him a little while ago he didn’t look very well.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have a hard time getting him to take it, but I’ll tell Lumiere and between the two of us we’ll get him to relax.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you. It seems odd having to force someone into taking a day to himself, but he really does need it. I’ll leave the two of you alone and I’ll make sure everything’s going as it should downstairs,” she said, trying to hide her pleasure at how well Papa and Mrs. Potts were getting along. She couldn’t remember seeing her father so happy since her mother was alive, and Belle was glad that it was someone as kind and good as Mrs. Potts who finally filled that void for him.

Belle made her way down to the kitchen as she promised to make sure everything was running smoothly. The servants were used to her visits by now, so only a few glanced up as Belle pushed open one of the swinging doors. 

She loved the bustle of the kitchen, the cook and his assistants bouncing around, servants gathering and dispersing through other doors that led to other halls on their way to do their chores. This was the heart of the castle, the place where the castle came to life.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” Lumiere greeted her as he entered the kitchens himself. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just seeing if there’s anything I could do to help. Mrs. Potts is with Papa and I didn’t want anything to disturb them.”

“Oh, la la! It is good to see Mrs. Potts enjoying life again!” 

“Definitely,” Belle agreed wholeheartedly. 

“I believe the only thing to be done is prepare the Master’s meal, since you have come all the way down here to ask.”

“Just the Master’s?” Belle prodded, certain the way Lumiere singled out Adam he had something up his sleeve.

“Well, I had thought to send a tray to your father and his guest, now that I know they are together.”

“You are a bit devious, you know,” Belle teased merrily.

“I just enjoy love, ma cherie,” Lumiere replied.

“And it is one of your greatest qualities,” she finished with a warm smile. “I’ll take that tray up to Adam, since I’m sure that’s what you had planned when you saw me here.”

“You know me too well,” Lumiere said with a small bow. 

Minutes later, two trays were set, one to go up to Mrs. Potts and her father, the other for Belle to bring up for herself and Adam.

“If there’s anything pressing to be done and Mrs. Potts has not grown tired of Papa, come see me first,” Belle instructed before she left.

“Of course,” Lumiere agreed easily and Belle made her way up to the West Wing where Adam was dutifully going over some plans Gustave had left for him.

Belle was grateful to Gustave for helping Adam through the process of reentering the world, but she was worried that there had been no further mention of reclaiming his rightful inheritance. He had now been put on parade, proving his existence to outsiders, so maybe now they could move on to what Adam’s roll in his new life would be.

Adam had come so far in just a short amount of time though, and she could not be prouder of how he had handled it all. She smiled to herself as she pictured the uncertain Beast struggling to read Romeo and Juliet to her, walking with her through the grounds, learning how to dance again with her. He had changed so much since her first night in the castle, and had changed further even since the enchantment broke, becoming not just a human, but a gentleman who could hold his own against nobility. But somehow, through all that, he remained only her Adam, her Beast.

“Hungry?” she asked when she had knocked on the door and it had opened to reveal her love, his smile when he saw it was her warming her heart.

“Starving,” he replied and stepped aside to let her in, taking the tray from her and kissing her on the cheek.

Chapter Text

Adam entered the stables and was immediately met with the smell of hay and manure. It filled his nose and stopped him in his tracks as the vivid memory of his first visit to the stables flooded his mind.

He was seven years old and had been promised his first horse. He had been begging for one for over a year, insisting he was old enough to ride as his father did. His mother woke him the morning of his seventh birthday, saying there was a surprise for him in the stables. Guessing immediately what it would be, he leapt from his bed and danced around as his mother and a servant tried to get him dressed, too eager to hold still.

He had never been to the stables before; it was a place for servants and animals, not for princes, but that day was different. His mother led him by the hand to the doors of the stables where his father waited, tall and straight in his usual somber, dark suit of blothes. 

As they approached, his father shifted his gaze from somewhere in the horizon to his son. Adam could distinctly remember often being frightened by those dark eyes, but that day his father’s gaze was almost warm.

“Close your eyes,” he heard his mother say as they approached the doors to the stables. Adam did as he was told, though he peeked once as he heard the doors creak open. “All right, darling, open them!”

Adam opened his eyes, ready to see his massive war charger waiting for him, but instead there was only a young horse, hardly bigger than he was.

“A—a baby?” he asked, his little heart sinking.

“A horse you can manage who will grow with you,” his father corrected. “It is a great thing to grow up with your horse. The two of you will form a bond unlike any other, if you take care of him properly. I had my own horse since he was a foal.”

Adam recalled his father’s noble chestnut stallion and a grin spread across his face. His very own horse! He ran up to the foal, eager to pet it, but it shied away from him.

“Gentle, Adam,” his mother cautioned. “You must earn his trust first.”

“How?” he whined, impatient to ride his new horse.

“By spending time with him,” his father replied and put a hand out. Adam flinched, but his father only pushed him forward gently and shut the stable doors behind him, leaving Adam alone with his new horse. 

Adam loved that horse, whom he named Midnight for his coat. Not a day went by that he wasn’t at the stables, brushing his dark coat, leading him out for a walk in the yard, even talking to him. Midnight became the dearest companion for a boy with no other friends, someone to talk to when his father wouldn't listen and to escape with for a few hours when the castle became to stifling to bear any longer. When his mother and sister died two years later, it was into Midnight’s mane where he cried the tears he couldn’t let his father see. 

But when the awful night came when Adam was turned into a beast, Midnight was no solace. The horse was terrified of the animal that invaded his stall seeking nothing more than the friend a lonely boy once knew. 

The newly created Beast realized at that moment that he was no longer Adam, now that his dearest companion no longer recognized him, was terrified of him. Beast chased out all the horses that night, giving them freedom from the monster that now ruled the castle. 

He watched until Midnight’s flanks disappeared into the trees beyond the castle’s grounds and then Beast was truly alone.

Adam sat down hard on a bale of hay, overwhelmed by the memories that suddenly attacked his mind.

“Adam?” Belle’s voice drew his attention back to the present and he looked up at the woman who loved him, who had somehow managed to conquer his lonely and broken heart. He stood and went to her eagerly, lifting her up by the waist and twirling her once in a circle, rewarded by hearing her laugh.

“Well, you’re in a good mood,” she commented merrily as he put her down again.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, setting aside the comment and focusing instead on the happiness of his present world he still couldn’t believe was possible.

“Mhm. Mrs. Potts packed us a lunch for the ride. But are you sure it’s all right for us to be away while Cogsworth is also gone?”

“I’m sure. My uncle is still away, there’s no sign of anything at all from the court, and everything had been going fine in the castle. Besides, you’ve been wanting to ride, haven’t you?”

Belle needed no further prodding, it seemed. She grinned at him and fairly bounded to her horse waiting in a stall not far from where they stood. Adam grinned at her enthusiasm and followed her, shooing away the stablehands as they stepped forward to help.

He had thought to offer his help saddling Philippe himself, but before he could, Belle took up the saddle in her own slender arms and hoisted it over the great horse’s back in a clearly well practiced manner. He adored her small little grunt as she heaved the heavy saddle up above her head. Adam could only chuckle and move on to the horse in the stall to the right. 

This horse was one of those that Cogsworth had bought early on after the enchantment broke, one of the horses that had pulled the wagons when Belle moved out of her cottage, in fact. Adam would have to look into getting a horse of his own soon, and the idea of it excited him.

“Ready?” Belle asked, standing outside the stall with Philippe’s reigns in her hand.

“Um…” he trailed off as he realized Belle had saddled and bridled Philippe in the time it took him to open the stall door. “Just another minute,” he said and did his best to hurry. 

It had been a long time since he saddled a horse, though, and took him nearly twice as long to do as it had for Belle.

“All right, let’s go,” he said finally, embarrassed that it had taken him so long.

“Hang on,” Belle said and stepped forward. She adjusted the saddle a bit, tightening the girth quickly. “There,” she said simply and returned to her own horse.

“Thanks,” he said, his embarrassment growing though he knew she had not done so to make him feel bad. “This should be interesting. I haven’t ridden since I was…well, since before,” he finished lamely and led the horse out into the yard. Belle drew level with him and caught his eye. She smiled at him understandingly, as she always did when he felt so uncertain.

“You’ll remember soon enough. We’ll just take it slow at first,” she said and led Philippe passed him. Adam watched her go for a moment, adoring how she was so certain of him when he could not find confidence in himself.

She mounted her horse, gliding upwards gracefully in a wave of green skirts. Adam grinned, realizing that Belle sat astride her horse, not sidesaddle as other ladies would.

“What?” she asked when she caught his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, dropping his eyes but not his smile, and prepared to mount his own horse. 

He jumped once, twice, and managed to scramble up and onto the saddle. When he was safely situated, he took hold of the reigns and straightened up, feeling his shaky confidence growing as his body recalled that it had done this before. Cautiously, he moved his mount forward, feeling the horse shift underneath him in a familiar way. Smiling, he provoked the horse into a trot, circling easily around Belle who laughed and turned in her saddle to watch him prance around foolishly.

“I see you remember better than you thought,” she said between giggles.

Rather than answering her directly, Adam grinned michievously at Belle and pushed his horse forward into a gallop. As he hoped, he heard Philippe’s hooves behind him as Belle sent her horse to chase him. She drew level with him and then, with a coy smile, she flew passed him. 

Adam paused in surprise but quickly pushed his horse to catch up. But Belle was clearly the better rider and easily outstripped him. It was only when Belle stopped at the edge of the great fields they rode across that Adam was able to catch up.

“I win,” she declared merrily as he drew closer to her, breathless from the ride.

“You’re good,” he consented, gasping a bit himself.

“And you’re better than you thought. You must have been very good as a child.” Adam smiled at her, but didn’t say anything. They walked in silence for a while at the edge of the field, letting their horses catch their breath, enjoying the warm mid-spring sun. It was pleasant to have her beside him, enjoying only the birdsong, the soft thump of the horses’ hooves meeting the grass, the quiet away from the castle. But Adam found that the quiet also allowed him to think, and his thoughts were not pleasant ones.

“Would you like a rematch?” he asked suddenly, grinning at her, needing a distraction.

“I’ll give you a head start this time,” she teased. Adam laughed and directed his horse to turn, but he did so too quickly and the horse protested by rearing onto his hind legs.

Adam wasn’t prepared for this and was too out of practice to stay in the saddle. His grip slipped and he was sent crashing to the ground, landing hard on his back. The impact drove the breath from his lungs and he lay stunned for a moment.

“Adam!” he heard Belle cry and she slid from her saddle to kneel beside him. By the time she reached him, though, Adam was able to get air back into his lungs and assess that he was not hurt. 

He looked up into Belle’s concerned, beautiful face, and couldn’t resist the urge to pull her towards him, supporting her in one arm while he turned over, so she ended up lying in the grass and he could lean over her instead. He smiled at her gasp of surprise and leaned down to kiss her.

“You really have changed,” she said, smiling when their lips parted. “Beast, and even the Adam I knew a few weeks ago, would never have done anything like that.”

“I—I’m sorry, did I—” he started, suddenly afraid he had done something wrong.

“No,” she interrupted, hands coming up to hold onto his coat, keeping him in place. “You’re learning more of who you are, and you’re getting more confident. I’m certainly not complaining.”

“Good,” he chuckled and kissed her again. He hadn’t realized he had been changing even since the enchantment was broken; it was just so comfortable to be with Belle, his uncertainty was simply unnecessary while he was with her and it seemed to have melted away without his notice.

“Shall we stop to eat here?” she asked, still trapped underneath him. “I’m getting a little hungry.”

“Good idea,” he agreed, but kissed her quickly a few more times, barely giving her lips a chance to kiss him back, making her laugh. He stood and went to Philippe’s saddlebags before she could, pulling out the blanket to start setting up for her, wanting to do something for her. 

“If we put stones on the corners of the blanket, it won’t blow away in the wind,” Belle suggested, picking up a stone and placing it on the corner nearest her.

He mimicked her, finding three more stones to hold the blanket in place while she took the food out the saddlebags and arranged it for them.

They left the horses to graze nearby, both too well mannered to wander far, and for several minutes they were both occupied with dividing the food. Adam struggled, not knowing how to juggle eating without a table.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Belle said. 

“No,” he grunted, embarrassed by this. To his surprise, Belle giggled. “What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to be insulted but unable to manage it.

“Nothing. It’s just…every once in a while, no matter how much you’ve changed, I still see a little bit of Beast in you.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve tried to—” he began quickly, horrified that the Beast should still make such evident appearances.

“You really don’t understand, do you?” she interrupted him. “It was while you were the Beast that I fell in love with you. I can’t help it if I see that part of you every once in awhile. In fact, I like it.” Belle had told him something similar the day he had proposed to her, just over a week ago now, but he still had a hard time believing such a thing.

“Ham?” he asked, holding out the packed of cold meat he held. Belle sighed and looked at him expressively, but took the food just the same. 

“I wonder how Cogsworth’s day is going,” Belle mused while they munched. 

“I doubt he’s managed to make it far. I don’t think he’d know what to do with himself if he’s not bossing someone around,” Adam laughed.

“I just hope he managed to relax even a little. I don’t want the wedding to sink him. He truly didn’t look well.” Adam could hear the true concern in her voice. 

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry. I think he actually enjoys having too much to do. You remember when you first came here, how everyone was tripping over themselves trying to remember what to do with guests? Cogsworth never lost that; he always knew and tried to enforce the proper way to do things, even when there weren’t things to be done.”

Adam unwillingly recalled those first few weeks of the curse when everyone struggled to adjust to their new forms, many without arms or legs. No matter how they grumbled or protested, Adam knew they were all grateful to Cogsworth for making them keep to their routines as best they could. They needed that normalcy in a world that had been suddenly turned upside-down on them. 

Adam was certainly no help to them, glowering in the West Wing, destroying everything he saw that reminded him of the life he had lost.

Adam drew himself out of his somber thought as he caught Belle’s eye. He smiled at her, reminded himself that it was all just a horrible memory, and extended an arm to draw Belle close to him. She shifted towards him willingly and he drew them downward until he was lying comfortably on the blanket, Belle’s head on his chest. Adam’s heart fluttered excitedly at having Belle so close. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and her hand reached up to grasp at a fold in his shirt. They lay there together in silence for awhile, watching the clouds pass above them.

“You know,” Adam said after a few minutes. “We really should start planning our wedding.”

Belle propped herself up on her elbow to look at him, smiling in excitement.

“That is, if you want to,” he added with a grin.

“More than anything, but I have no idea where to start.”

“Well, you’ll want Nicole as part of your bridal party, I’m sure,” he teased and laughed as Belle hit his shoulder lightly. She sat up properly and he moved to recline on his side, head supported by one hand. 

“I’m sure there’s a lot of social rules Gustave will tell us about that we’ll have to follow,” Adam said more seriously. “But we can still make it our own. And our honeymoon can be whatever we want it to be.”

“A—a honeymoon? Really?”

“I know it’s not very common, at least that’s what my uncle told me, but my parents did it and I think it would be a good excuse for me to see all those places I’ve told everyone I’ve been to. You wouldn’t mind traveling around for a month or two, would you?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. Belle had often talked of the places she read about in her books, had told him of her desires to travel the world.

“Really?” she said again. “Where can we go?”

“Anywhere you’d like,” he said, sitting up now, her excitement filling him as well. “Anywhere you’ve dreamed of going.”

At those words, Belle dove into an animated account of every place she had ever read about. Adam grinned and leaned back, happy to listen to her go one about the castles of Germany, the wide open fields of Scotland, and the mountains of Austria. His heart swelled with joy knowing he could give her this, that he was able to witness her utter happiness. 

Belle was interrupted through, when Philippe wandered over and gave her shoulder a gentle nudge with his nose. Belle laughed and stroked his velvety nose.

“All right, Philippe, we’ll go,” she said to her horse. “We should get back anyway and make sure the castle isn’t in chaos without Cogsworth manning the helm.”

“You know, we still haven’t decided anything about the wedding,” Adam realized as they started packing up the remains of their picnic.

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it,” Belle replied. “Like you said, Gustave will have a few things to say about it, and there’s no sense planning something only for it to be wrong.”

“Don’t let him bully you into things you don’t want,” he said, concerned that she would simply endure whatever Gustave told them to do for the sake of making it ‘easier.’ “No matter what, it’s what you want that matters. He’s not the one getting married.”

“What we want,” she corrected, taking his hand and stepping close to him. “It’s your wedding too, remember.”

Adam gently squeezed Belle’s hand, his heart soaring as he imagined the day they would become husband and wife. Not because of the wedding itself, that was bound to be a social challenge for him, but the fact that it would mean they would go through life together side by side, that they would be true partners.

Chapter Text

Belle was late to breakfast, but she was finding it hard to look away from a portrait that hung in the north hall, not far from her favorite sitting room, the one with a wall full of windows.

She knew the servants had put up some paintings that had been in storage for the arrival of their guests, and since then she had some time to admire them, to gaze into the frozen faces of Adam’s family, but this one in particular struck her. Perhaps because it was the only one with Adam’s family all together, perhaps it was the way their expressions were captured. Either way, Belle stared at the faces in the portrait as if she could glean some information about who they were.

Adam was an adorable child, put in a rather unfortunate costume for the painting. Though how the artist managed to paint the haughty look of a spoiled child, Belle could not guess. She lingered longest on the other members of the family. His mother was beautiful, with deep brown eyes and a small smile that showed its warmth even through the stiff paint. Belle hoped that his mother might approve of her, of who her son had chosen to spend his life with. Belle hoped to be worthy of such a warm smile as the one that was frozen in time before her. 

Adams little sister, Catherine, as Belle had so recently learned, had to be little more than two years old at the time of the painting. She seemed sweet, her little round face grinning out of a frame of loose curls, but looking at the child made Belle sad, knowing her life was cut so short.

But it was at Adam’s father Belle stared at the longest. Blue eyes just matched Adam’s but while Adam in the painting seemed haughty, his father’s eyes were painted so cold, staring ahead as if daring his audience to find fault. 

He stood to the side of his wife, one hand on her shoulder as she sat with their daughter in her lap. Belle shivered, imagining the large hand grasping just a bit too tightly on his wife’s shoulder. Adam never said so, but she had the impression from the way Adam danced around details when discussing his father that he was the sort of man who made his temper known with his hands. Beast broke furniture, but Belle wondered if this man hit more fragile things.

“Mademoiselle?”

Belle was jolted out of her somber thoughts by Cogsworth’s voice.

“Cogsworth, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you,” she said, giving herself a little shake to come back into herself.

“Quite all right. I was only wondering why you weren’t at breakfast with the others.”

“I got distracted,” she said, glancing back up at Adam’s father, his painted eyes looking down at her with distain.

“Hmm, yes.” Cogsworth looked up at the painting as well, and Belle wondered how he remembered his former Master.

“How was your day yesterday?” Belle asked, changing the subject abruptly to something less grim.

“Quite nice, once I realized everyone had ganged up on me to force the day on me. On your orders, I assume,” Cogsworth said, looked at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk playing underneath his mustache. 

“Of course,” she admitted without any pretense.

“I ended up down by the pond on the south side of the castle. Little did I know it’s a favorite swimming hole for the children here.”

“Oh really?” Belle was curious where this was going.

“I got to do a bit of fishing with a few of the children. They lent me a hook and everything. Rowdy young things,” he said and Belle could see by his smile that Cogsworth had enjoyed their antics.

“You seem quite put out by your day off,” she teased. “I won’t make you do such a thing again.”

“You may feel free to do so at any time, my dear,” Cogsworth said. “But I am glad to be getting back to work. With the wedding coming up, I don’t think Lumiere is anywhere near being up for the task,” he said with a self-important sniff.

Belle restrained a giggle and nodded in agreement. “I can’t see anyone ever being able to do what you’re able to,” she said truthfully. “I know we’re going to rely on you to help with the wedding especially.”

“It will be my pleasure, mademoiselle,” Cogsworth said and Belle could not help but notice his grin, though she wasn’t sure whether his joy was for the sake of her and Adam, or all the work that was head of him. 

“Best run along to breakfast now. I’m sure they’re wondering what’s become of you.”

Belle nodded and went on her way, glad that Cogsworth seemed much better for his day of fishing.

“There you are,” her father exclaimed as she entered the small dining room and took her place at the table. “We thought perhaps you’d forgot about us.”

“I met Cogsworth in the hall,” she explained as she helped herself to a soft boiled egg. “He seemed to enjoy his day yesterday.”

“Good,” Adam said, nodding in approval, though he seemed distracted by a letter that rested on the table by his hand.

“What’s that?” 

“Gustave delivered it just a moment ago. He said to give his greetings and he’ll see us after he’s recovered from the trip.”

“Will he ever just sit for a moment with us?” Belle wondered aloud. “I don’t think he’s ever joined us for a meal.”

“He doesn’t strike me as a family man, so to speak,” Papa said around his toast. 

“No, perhaps not,” she muttered, thinking of Adam’s father’s portrait. Gustave himself had said that he and Adam’s father were very close. Did that mean they were alike?

“Even so, he’s been helpful, and I’ll not begrudge him that,” Adam said, not exactly defensively, but it served as a reminder to her that she shouldn’t be too suspicious of him.

“Who’s the letter from?” she asked, noticing him glancing at it again.

“Er…” Adam hesitated, looking as if he’d rather not say. “Nicole,” he admitted and Belle couldn’t help a jolt of surprise at that. 

“What does she want?” To this, Adam rolled his eyes. 

“To flirt with me, even I can tell how obvious it is. But there’s something about it that’s been confusing me. A line here, about you, actually,” he said.

“Me?”

Adam picked up the letter and read: “‘I hope with all my heart that Belle continues to study embroidery. Though she is a novice, I feel sure that with time she will be equal to any seamstress in the land.’ What does she mean, do you know?” 

Belle’s hands balled into fists, her fingernails digging into her palm. What would it take for this girl to stop interfering, to stop trying to destroy Belle’s world?

“It means,” she said with a carefully guarded tone, “that Nicole believes I’m better suited to a life as a seamstress, a commoner, than to the wife of a prince.”

“Oh.” Adam was silent as Belle seethed. “In that case, I have the perfect response for her. Go soak your head,” he said, miming writing the words on the back of the letter. Belle was so surprised by this, she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her.

“That might not be the wisest thing,” she said, her scowl turning into a smirk despite herself and Adam’s own cautious smile grew.

“No, but I’d look forward to the letter she’d write in response to that,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m sure it’d be very colorful.”

“Without a doubt,” Papa added, laughing himself and excused himself to the workroom.

Alone with Adam now, she reached across the table to take his hand. It wasn’t his fault Nicole was writing to him, not his fault Nicole had insulted her, and Belle was grateful to have him on her side.

“Let’s talk to Gustave about planning for the wedding,” she suggested. “It will take some time to put together.”

“Definitely,” he agreed, squeezing her fingers. He opened his mouth, perhaps to make another joke about Nicole, but she was glad he changed his mind. His heart was in the right place, but she could do without hearing her name for awhile.

_____

Belle’s anger was something Adam rarely encountered, and Adam couldn’t help but be glad he was not on the wrong end of it. He was also glad he was able to make her laugh and help her forget that anger. Nicole was a fool if she thought Adam would ever prefer her to Belle. 

It was strange though; their parting after her visit seemed rather final and he was sure he would hear no more from it. Was she prodded into writing that letter?

There was no way he could know, so he put it from his mind. 

“There’s quite a lot to consider for a royal wedding,” Gustave said when he and Belle went to talk to him after breakfast. They were both eager to get plans in motion for their wedding, but hearing Gustave say this in such a defeatist way made Adam’s heart sink.

“Like what?” he nearly groaned.

“Well, for yours especially, I mean,” Gustave clarified. “Technically you are not a living person, so we need to get that reversed—”

“Didn’t we address that ages ago?” Adam interrupted, vividly remembering going through a mound of papers that would reverse the claim that he had died at the age of nine. The Marquis and the Comte (originally Gustave’s collection of advisors) were meant to serve as witnesses for that.

“The system moves slowly,” Gustave waved a hand as if to dismiss the subject as unimportant. “And then there’s the discussion we need to have about your title.”

“You mean proving his alive will not reinstate his title?” Belle demanded. “That seems a bit unlikely. As his father’s son, he inherits that title. He does not need to earn it again.”

“I mean in the eyes of the lesser lords, the ones who Adam would be presiding over should he reclaim his lands.”

“Should?” Belle pressed and Adam held his breath as her temper began to resurface. He was grateful that she was defending him, but he worried it might not go over well with Gustave, who had a bit of a temper himself. 

“When,” Gustave backpedaled. “The point is, everyone will want you settled in your place as prince before you go off getting married. It’s more stable that way. No one has disrupted the line from father to son until now, and it would be wise to give that to the people who rely so much on traditions if they are to accept you.”

“Well then, what must I do?” Adam asked, begrudging yet another step in all this, but if it meant getting closer to marrying Belle, he would do it gladly. 

“We need a letter from your witnesses declaring you are who you say,” Gustave began.

“I doubt the Marquis will provide that,” Belle said. “When did you say your advisors will be here? Perhaps one of them will.”

“In a matter of days now, but only one of them holds a rank high enough to be admitted as fact. Jean used to be an officer in the army and is well respected.”

Adam decided not to ask why his witnesses had to be of a high social rank. Perhaps just because it ‘looked’ better. He was getting used to his questions of ‘why’ being answered with ‘it looks better.’

“Very well, so we wait a few days to get the letter from your advisor. And with one from the Comte, that will be enough, right?” Adam said hopefully.

“If I get one from the Comte. He has not replied to my request as of yet.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” Belle said, putting her hands on her hips. Adam looked at her, sensing her building a sort of wall of logic and reasoning to shut out Gustave’s words, and hoping she wouldn't push too far.

He felt helpless between the two of them, being stretched and pulled between one and the other. Belle was finding far more holes in Gustave’s story than he even realized were there. The Comte was very kind while he was here, even spoke to Adam of how he had known his mother. How could he possibly deny them the letter they needed?

“I will write again, but we may need to find someone else, which will take time.” Gustave said with a shrug. “Believe me, I want to see you two married as quickly as possible, but we need to do it properly.”

“So when I’m approved, and the papers go through, and all the rest of it,” Adam said quickly before Belle could say something else. “Then what?”

“Then we will reinstate your title to you, and then you two can wed.”

“And will my not being a noble put off the wedding even longer?” Belle said and Adam noticed the edge had left her voice. Either she was forcing herself to calm down, or she was ready to feel guilty at the idea she might be holding up their wedding further simply because of her low birth. 

“I shouldn’t think so, no. It’s more of a social faux pas than a legal one. Six months, maximum, then we can plan the wedding.”

“Six months?” Adam cried, outraged at this at last. “Before we can even plan for the wedding?”

“I’m afraid so. It might be sooner, but I believe in planning for the worst.”

“Very well. Thank you for all your help, Gustave,” Belle said, her voice calm and courteous, the words coming out like honey. 

What has she got in mind? Adam wondered, looking at her as if he could guess just from her placid expression. Her tone made him think she was up to something rather than admitting surrender.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to be getting on with.” Belle turned without another word, without even a look to him, and left the room.

“I—excuse me, Uncle. I’ll be right back,” Adam said hastily, rushing after Belle before Gustave could even respond. 

He caught up to her in the halls, which wasn’t easy. She was striding at an alarming rate towards the library and he had to jog a few steps to draw level with her.

“Belle, what’s going on? Why were you—”

“You’re uncle is not being as helpful as he seems, Adam,” she said between gritted teeth, her rare temper returning for the third time that morning. “I think he’s purposefully delaying our wedding, delaying you getting your birthright.”

“What? But why would he—”

“To keep his power. He’s in charge of two provinces, which is quite a large part of the country. Do you really think he’s going to hand all that over so easily? All this talk of six months for the papers to be accepted… And not getting a letter from Charles? Do you really think he would be so disagreeable?”

“No, that part I found odd, but how can you be sure?”

Belle sighed and shook her head. “I can’t be, of course. I’m sorry. If you don’t want me to look into this, if you want me to stop right now and do it Gustave’s way, then just say so. We’ll wait the six months, if it really only is six months. I might be entirely wrong about all of this, though it just doesn’t feel right. But if you want me to stop, I will,” she said, taking his hand in hers. 

He paused. She really would stop with her plans to go behind Gustave’s back, he knew. But she had some good points. The part about the Comte seemed particularly out of place.

“Write to the Comte,” he said finally. “Write to him first and see if he replies. If he does, we’ll move forward then. If he doesn’t…”

“Then Gustave was right and I’ll never say another word about it,” she promised. 

Adam sighed and raised a hand to cup her cheek, her skin soft against his fingers. “I hope you’re wrong, because if you’re not, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Well, you won’t have to do it alone. I’m always going to be here for you, for as long as you want me.”

“I’ll always want you,” he said, looking into her hazel eyes that had replaced their angry determination with the warmth he was so used to seeing.

“Then you’ll never be without my help,” she promised and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “I’m on your side, Adam. Always.”

With one more long kiss that only succeeded in making him dizzy, Belle continued on towards the library to write her letter. He watched after her for a moment, not sure if he wanted her to be right or not, not sure if he even wanted all this any more.

They could just go into some nearby village and be married before the week was out, they could run away and start a new life, leaving Gustave to his schemings, and Adam would be very happy with it. But the people of his lands—how could he leave them in the hands of someone like Gustave?

He turned back reluctantly to his uncle’s study. Even if Belle was right, they still had to prepare for the advisor’s arrival. Adam would just have to put on a good face until they knew one way or the other. 

Chapter Text

Belle recieved a reply letter from the Comte not even a week later. The same day Gustave’s advisors arrived, the same hour nearly.

Please find enclosed the letter Prince Gustave requested. I will swear to anyone necessary that Prince Adam is who he claims and is a competent young man capable of performing the duties necessary for his position. I’m glad he has put his trust in you to aid in these proceedings and look forward to the day when Prince Adam may fully regain his position.

He went on more conversationally, saying that his home was always open to them and that his wife’s health was improving, thank you for asking.

Belle felt a grim sort of triumph as she held the letter in her hands. Here was the proof of her suspicions about Gustave, but she felt no joy in the discovery. By the sounds of the letter, Gustave had not even asked the Comte before. She stood from the chair in her bedroom, eager to discuss this with Adam so they could make plans for what they should do next, but a knock on her door stopped her in her tracks. 

“Just a moment.”

Carefully, she hid the letter in the pocket of her gown, intent on showing Adam as soon as possible.

Only then did Belle open the door to reveal one of the footmen. 

“Good morning, Thomas,” she greeted.

“Good morning, My Lady. I have a message from the Master. He says that the new guests are arriving and that he’ll be waiting in the entrance hall. Oh, and that he’s sorry he didn’t come himself, only Lumiere and Cogsworth were starting another fight and he was going to try and help them.”

“What was it about this time?” Belle asked with a small giggle.

“I think about whether or not to put flowers in the guest rooms,” Thomas said with a lopsided grin.

“The great questions of the universe are hard to solve, aren’t they?”

“Quite so, my lady,” Thomas said, grinning widely now and making Belle’s smile grow, too. 

“Well, best not keep them waiting. I’ll come now.” Thomas stepped aside and she closed her bedroom door behind her. Thomas left to go about his other duties, leaving her to make her way downstairs, touching the outside of her pocket every so often to feel the slight crinkle of the letter there.

“So do the guests get flowers or no?” she asked Adam when she joined him and Gustave and there was no sight of Lumiere or Cogsworth.

“We decided against it,” Adam said, chuckling.

“I have something to tell you later,” she said, whispering so Gustave might not hear. She decided that now was not the time to tell him about the letter, not when Adam would be so nervous in greeting the advisors. There would be time enough later. 

He nodded, but his attention was drawn to a line of carriages that were making their way down the drive. 

“Here we go,” he muttered and took her hand. She squeezed his fingers, glad that she could be a comfort to him. 

_____

“Would anyone like some tea?” Gustave offered as they all filed into the largest study.

“No thank you. Let’s get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible,” one of the men said, taking a seat.

Adam had greeted the three advisors who helped Gustave make financial, lawful, and generally political decisions, who would hopefully help him when it was his turn. If it was ever his turn. 

They were gathered in the study Adam and Gustave had been using, the six of them each finding a chair to face the other. It wasn’t too cramped; they could have easily gone to the library to talk, but the one who seemed to be the spokeman for the three demanded privacy. 

“You are truly the son of the late Prince Vincent and nephew to Prince Gustave?” the spokeman asked, a hard-faced angluar man with beady black eyes and an unsmiling face.

“Yes, I am,” Adam confirmed simply.

“Hmm,” a second man looked at Adam critically, and Adam let him look. “Well, you certainly look as his son ought. But something about you is different.”

“I hope so, monsieur,” Adam said, unable to stop himself. He felt the entire room pause, the tension suddenly pressing on him. Gustave and his father had been close, after all. These men could easily take offense.

“I hope so, too,” the third man said with a grunt, though Adam was relieved to hear a kind edge to his words. “A man who ignores his family duties so far as to fake a child’s death is no man at all, begging your pardon, my lord,” he said, looking at Gustave. 

“Perhaps what we see is the influence of his mother,” the second man suggested. 

“She was a kind soul,” the third man agreed.

“Thank you, monsieur,” Adam said with a grateful nod at him, glad that his mother was remembered so fondly.

“I did not know his mother, monsieur,” Belle spoke up for the first time since they had all gathered. “But I think I know Adam’s soul, and it is indeed beautiful.”

Adam turned his gaze to look warmly at her, grateful for her words and touched by them.

“Ah, you are the…woman Gustave has told us about,” the first man spoke again and Adam’s cautious relief vanished in panic. He couldn’t guess what this hard-faced man was thinking; his expression gave away nothing.

“My name is Belle, monsieur,” she replied boldly, her tone soft but firm and Adam smiled at her unwavering strength. “May I ask yours?”

Again, a silence that pressed on Adam’s ears, as if Belle had just dared to ask this surly, sharp man to divulge his greatest secrets.

“Jean,” he said simply, then motioned his and to his other companions and introduced them as well. “Antoine,” pointing to the second man, who appeared the youngest of the group, “Robert,” he said, indicating the last, most kind man.

“It’s very nice to meet you all,” Belle replied when Jean had finished, flashing a particularly beautiful smile. “I was thinking of having some tea.  Would anyone else like to join me?”

“But Gustave already—” Adam started, but was interrupted as Jean spoke. 

“I think we would, thank you,” Jean agreed and suddenly his eyes did not seem quite so dark.

She is amazing, Adam remarked to himself. 

Moments later, Mrs. Potts arrived with tea and the men settled more comfortably into their chairs.

“Shall we get down to business, Your Highness?” Antoine asked, deferring not to Gustave, but to him.

“Of—of course,” he agreed, shocked at this show of reverence to him.

“Gustave was telling us how such a thing has never happened before,” Belle remarked, looking at each of the men in turn. “An inheritance going to another only to be returned to the initial person intended to inherit.”

“This would be the first time to my knowledge,” Jean agreed. “But it certainly isn’t the oddest.” He then went into a rather boring history of the royal family line and those lines that had gotten lost or sidestepped as far as fourth cousins. Adam’s attention wandered, thinking amusedly that Jean was the one who wanted to get things done quickly, and now was going off on such a long tangent it might take them forever to get anything done. But he noticed how Belle remained apt and attentive, nodding at Jean spoke.

A true princess, he said and smiled to himself. 

Only a few hours later, despite Jean’s initial long tangent, they had a plan. Though Adam had taken special note of Gustave’s attempts to object to certain matters that seemed fairly straightforward. Adam did not know the law as well as his uncle did, despite how much he had been studying, but the advisors clearly did, and did not seem shy about contradicting the one they served.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to them, my dear,” Gustave said to Belle after they had entertained the advisors for dinner, during which Belle shone. “But I’ve never seen those men warm up to someone so quickly.”

“I know what she did,” Adam put in, putting one arm around his fiancée. “She was bold and brave and quite herself. Well done,” he said to the woman in his arms and tenderly kissed her forehead.

“Well done indeed. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to bed. Today’s quite wiped me out,” Gustave said and left without further comment.

“Here,” Belle said, drawing a piece of parchment out of the pocket of the pale lavender dress she was wearing and handed it to him. “This is what I wanted to show you before. It’s from Charles.”

“The Comte?” Adam asked, taking it and reading it quickly. His heart sank. Here was the proof that Gustave was not being entirely truthful.

“I don’t think Gustave even wrote to him at all,” Belle said, whispering although they were quite alone. “Adam, I’m so sorry, I know this is not how you wanted it to go, but…” she trailed off. What else could she say? Gustave wanted to keep the power he had, was going through quite a charade to do so.

“I suppose he was just going to keep putting me off until I gave up.” Adam recalled just the other day how he longed to simply run away to a new life and forget all this nonsense. Perhaps that was what Gustave was counting on.

“So what do we do now?” he asked. The path ahead was now dark, completely unknown to him. Gustave had led him astray, and now getting back to where he needed to be seemed impossible.

“I think the advisors are on our side. They seem to value what’s right by law over what Gustave thinks,” Belle mused. “Perhaps we don’t need to confront Gustave directly, only succeed in what he was trying to delay.”

“Perhaps you’re right. May I keep this?” he asked, holding up the letter. When she nodded, he stowed it carefully in the breast pocket of his coat. “I think I’m going to bed, too,” he said, suddenly weary of the tasks that lay ahead of him. “Goodnight.” He leaned down to kiss his love, but even he could feel he had given a short, distracted sort of kiss as his mind whirred. 

“Adam? I’m sorry. I know how much you were relying on him for help,” Belle offered, looking at him with such sympathy. 

“At least I know you’re on my side,” he said, trying for a smile and succeeding after a fashion. “That’s all I need.” 

Belle smiled at that and he bid her a much more heartfelt goodnight. 

But, back in the West Wing, his bed went untouched as he instead paced back and forth across his balcony in the cool spring air, hurting at the betrayal he felt and wondering how he could possibly fix this.

Chapter Text

It took a few weeks, but Belle was right: the advisors favored the law above all else. They were probably the only men involved in the royal court to do so, Adam mused. If Gustave had to be of the conniving sort, at least he was doing it legally up till that point, as far as the advisors were aware, anyway.

Jean, Antoine, and Robert managed to get Adam’s supposed death announcements reversed, and his title reinstated, within the first two weeks of their arrival. Gustave had been at it for months. There was going to be a small ceremony, more of a demonstration, so that every land-owning noble in the province knew who Adam was and why that was so important to them. Adam didn’t like the sound of it at all, but went along with it, mostly because Gustave hated the idea.

As the weeks passed, Gustave seemed to fade further and further into the background, coming to fewer and fewer meetings, saying less and less. Adam hoped he would simply let them be now, acknowledge that he lost and move on. But Gustave made no mention of leaving the castle, not yet, and Adam was loathe to make him leave outright. He did help him during the enchantment, after all. That had to mean something.

The ceremony itself was brief. Adam was stuffed into a fine black suit which made the silk sash he had to wear more distinct. It was supposed to signify his status, since only the king and the crowned prince wore any sort of crown (which he was more than glad to avoid wearing), but to Adam it just made him feel like he was trying to be something he was not.

He looked onto the crowd of well-dressed people, nobles who he had the audacity to believe he could rule over with any sort of authority. They looked at him curiously, as if he were a new creature they had never seen. The idea of him being something new and different made him chuckle; if only they knew how different he was just a few short months ago. 

Gustave introduced him before the crowd gathered in the ballroom. His voice was low and lazy, and Adam knew this was not what Gustave had been intending at all, but to refuse would to be to give himself away.

And then came the time for him to give a brief speech that would hopefully answer some questions he could later avoid when the inevitable mingling part of the event would begin. He was shaking, he knew, and he looked to Belle for help, desperate for something to anchor him in front of so many eyes. She was standing at the front of the crowd, dressed in a fine pale blue gown, her hair piled into an elegant knot at the back of her head, but that ever-wayward strand of hair had fallen across her forehead. She nodded and him and smiled her patient, understanding smile of hers, and he managed to take a breath.

And then it was over. He had spoken in front of the crowd of strangers, he had dove into their midst and answered their questions although their faces pressed in on him until he could hardly stand it, and then the orchestra began to play and they were dancing, leaving him all but forgotten in light of the pleasure of the dance and of the food.

“I’m so proud of you,” Belle said, sidling up to him and taking his hand as he stood on the outskirts of the throng. “I know that was not easy.”

“Every bit of me wanted to run and hide. I still do. This reminds me of what the castle used to be like when I was a child: stiff and boring,” he gestured to the people dancing in their glittering finery, the chatter of the ones on the sides make a low murmer that could just be heard over the sound of the orchestra.

“Perhaps I should invite Chip down to dance with them,” Belle suggested merrily.

“That’d be something I’d like to see. Madame Pompous over there would probably faint,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of an older woman with a ridiculous wig and an expression of someone who had just smelled something unpleasant. 

“Probably,” she agreed with a soft giggle. “I suppose I’ll just have to settle with you for a dance partner, then.” She took his hand and led him forwards. “Besides,” she added as they prepared to dance. “What better way to prove to them you’re really a noble than to let them see you dance?”

“I think you might be overestimating my abilities,” he chuckled, but led her around the floor just the same. “You know, this means we can finally focus on our wedding,” Adam said as they danced. It was a light waltz, allowing the breath for conversation.

“Thank goodness. I don’t know how much longer I could wait,” she said, half teasing. “I don’t know how much longer Nicole could wait,” she added more seriously, trying and failing to keep her voice light and glancing over to the side of the room. Nicole was there, of course, as the daughter of a lord who held lands in Adam’s new claim. And she was staring at them. Her face was impassive, but Adam thought her eyes were slightly squinted in anger.

“I had thought about going to one of the villages and simply marrying you there,” he said, only half joking. “It’s not too late to do that.”

Belle paused and Adam could tell that she was actually considering such a thing.

“You do still want to marry me after all this, don’t you? After all that my uncle did to put it off?” 

“Of course I do!” she exclaimed, looking horrified he had even said such a thing. It relieved him, truthfully. He wouldn’t blame her if she decided to wash her hands of the whole thing. “Adam, I love you so very much. I want to be with you, and I would wait for as long as you needed. I just couldn’t take Gustave having his own way, his schemes working so well. Thank goodness for his three advisors.”

“The allies he unknowingly provided for us,” Adam said with a small chuckle.

“And I admit, the idea of running away to get married sounds terribly romantic, but I don’t think that would be good for you in the long run, not if you want their approval,” she said, nodding to the crowds around them. “It will be hard enough on you when they find out that I’m not noble.”

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t take long. Nicole will see to that.”

The dance ended and Adam took the opportunity to pull Belle into a long kiss, crowds be damned. His hand reached up to touch the back of her neck to pull her closer and he felt her smile beneath his lips.

“Adam?” she began, breaking the kiss to look up at him.

“Mhm?”

“Will you marry me?”

“I would love to,” he replied with a grin and spun her into another dance.

Chapter Text

She walked slowly down the aisle, gripping her bouquet of flowers so hard her fingers ached. Papa walked beside her, solemn and silent as he led her forwards. Her heart was breaking with every step she took; she felt a tear fall, rolling slowly down her cheek and she made no effort to brush it aside. What did she care what he thought of her tears?

She reached the end of the aisle and had to turn to face the man she was to marry, though she could not make herself raise her eyes to look at him. It was enough to see their hands joined, his thick fingers clutching her own posessively.

“Do you, Gaston, take Belle to be your wedded wife…” the village priest droned without emotion.

Belle began to panic. Why was she marrying Gaston? This wasn’t right!

Her mind shot back to the moment Gaston had stabbed her Beast in the back. She though Beast had lived and Gaston fell, but her mind instead painted an image of Beast’s lifeless body, Gaston looming over him triumphantly. 

Another tear made its way down her cheek as she remembered holding a dying Beast in her arms only to be dragged away by Gaston moment later, forced to marry him to save her father from the asylum after all.

There had to be something she could do.

“No,” she said in defiance to what was happening, softly at first, no more than a whisper. Gaston’s face twisted into an expression of rage; this was clearly not the response he wanted from the bride he had so maliciously pursued, but that only gave Belle courage.

“No!” she repeated, stronger this time and tore her hands away from his. “NO!”

She flew back down the aisle, wanting nothing more than to find her Beast.

She ran through the forest that rose up to meet her, calling for her Beast, all too aware that Gaston had started to chase her, his eyes gleaming in the shadows of the trees like a wolf’s. 

“Beast!” she called one last time, but it was too late. Gaston caught hold of her and pulled her back towards him.

“You’re mine,” he growled, rage filling his eyes and sending Belle’s heart pounding in terror.

“No! Beast!” she called again, but it was useless. Gaston pulled her back through the dark trees, away from the castle, away from her Beast.

Belle jolted herself away to the sound of someone screaming, only to discover that the sound of terror was coming from her own mouth, screaming for Beast.

The dream was still strong in her mind, unwilling to let her out of its grip and she bolted upright in bed only to sob into her hands.

“Belle?” she heard a voice call to her, but she was unable to answer, her sobs taking her breath from her. 

Arms curled around her and she flinched from them, certain it was Gaston taking her away from her Beast, but the arms stayed where they were and she heard the same soft voice call her name again. Confused at who could be speaking to her so kindly, she looked up to see a man with auburn hair holding her. Where was her Beast?

But she met his kind blue eyes and suddenly the true events of that horrible night flooded her mind, releasing her from the dream at last.

“Adam?” she said, dragging herself back into reality.

“It’s all right, Belle. You’re safe,” he said gently, brushing her hair out of her face with a gentle caress. 

At the sound of his voice together connected with his touch, Belle was able to shake the last clinging tendrils of the dream off, but its horrors became all the more sharp for it. She clutched at him, begging him to hold her closer, horrified at what her dreams had shown her, what surely would have happened had Gaston won the fight.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Adam asked as she felt his fingers gently comb through her hair. She shook her head in respsone and burrowed herself closer into his chest like a child, tears silently making their way down her face. 

“You’re all right,” he said softly and she felt him move so she might rest against him more comfortably. She leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, and listened to the beat of his heart lull her into a more gentle sleep.

Belle woke to the unfamiliar feeling of soft velvet beneath her cheek. It was comfortable, so at first she didn’t question it, but she realized that the velvet rose and fell gently. Confused, she sat up and saw that she had somehow fallen asleep on Adam’s chest, the velvet of his coat providing her soft pillow. As she moved, his arm fell away from her shoulders and he stirred a little before waking up.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.

“Good—good morning,” she replied uncertaintly, wondering why on earth Adam was asleep in her room.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting up straighter and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

At the question, Belle recalled the nightmare that had woken her screaming in the middle of the night and she shivered.

“Was the dream that horrible?” Adam asked. She nodded and took Adam’s hand, reassured by its soft touch.

“You were dead,” she was finally able to say. “You were dead and I had to marry Gaston. I tried to run away to find you, even though I knew— but he caught me. And that’s when I woke up.” She closed her eyes tightly, trying to keep herself from seeing Gaston’s sharp blue eyes so triumphant.

“Oh, Belle,” Adam said gently and cupped her cheek in a familar gesture. “Belle, it’s all right. Gaston is gone.”

“I know,” she replied and took a steadying breath, bringing herself back into reality. “Why are you here? I mean, I hope I wasn’t screaming so loudly you could hear me from the West Wing.”

“No, but you did give your father quite a scare,” he said with a small smile. “He knows I’m here.” Belle nodded, glad she wouldn’t have to try to explain Adam’s presence in her bedroom to her father.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Adam continued, “so I was just wandering the halls when I heard you call for the Beast. I met your father near your door, but it was me you reached for.”

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, ashamed she had let the dream frighten her so much.

“Don’t be sorry,” he insisted quickly as if he had anticipated those words. “It meant so much for me to be there for you, more than I think you realize.”

Belle smiled and leaned back into his arms, listening to the heartbeat that calmed her so easily last night. She allowed herself a few more childish moments of feeling the safety of his embrace before sitting up once more.

“Papa will be waiting for us for breakfast,” she said, smoothing her doubtlessly messy hair. Adam took her hands away from her hair and kissed the tips of her fingers.

“I’ll see you shortly,” he said and stood to leave.

“Adam?” she said before he could reach the door. He turned back, his expression pulled into one of concern. “Thank you.” He smiled and nodded.

“You know, in a few days I’ll be there beside you. I won’t have to be roaming the halls like a ghost to be able to chase away your nightmares.”

Belle grinned and Adam left, leaving her to dress and daydream of the fast upcoming day where she would become his wife. A bubble of excitement filled her, knowing with all her heart that this was the wedding she wished for. 

The spring had gone and with it the delays Gustave had created for them. The advisors seemed to think that, since Adam had a match in mind for himself, the best thing to do was to settle it and get the line of succession solidified. Never mind that neither she nor Adam were ready for that second step just yet, but if it meant getting the wedding sorted, then they both supported it. So just as the hot summer months began to rise, plans were made and the wedding date set. Belle thought that early September would be a lovely time for a wedding. 

But as August faded, guests began to swarm to the castle for the event, and among those guests included the Marquis and Nicole. One battle Gustave had won in his increasingly limited range of power was making sure they were on the guest list.

Belle thus far had managed to avoid Nicole by keeping herself extremely busy with wedding preparations, but all too often the girl found ways to be bothersome.

The most recent was while Belle was helping the servants arrange the flowers on the pews of the chapel in the castle (yet another room that had been closed off and left to the dust) Nicole decided to follow behind her and offer her opinions on how the flower should be done.

“Roses are so boring,” she said as she trailed behind Belle. “I would much rather prefer peonies.”

“I’m sure you can arrange that for your own wedding,” Belle replied, hardly paying attention. She had far too much to do to waste time arguing with her. But Nicole’s response was hard to ignore.

“This should have been mine,” the girl muttered. 

Belle whirled around, anger pulsing through her as she only felt when Nicole was at her worst. But she looked into the girl’s cold green eyes and found that her anger faded into pity. This girl had been given every luxury and was still so unhappy; it occurred to her that this was what Adam might have been like had the enchantment not taken hold of him. What must it be like to have everything and yet still nothing?

“Let’s sit for a moment,” Belle suggested and drew the girl down to sit beside her in one of the hard wooden pews.

“You know it’s true,” Nicole continued. “I should have been the one to marry him. I’m the highest born nearest his age.”

“Nicole,” she started and tried very hard to keep her frustration at bay. “I understand you’re angry with me, but do you even love Adam?”

“What has love got to do with anything?” she sneered.

“Love is everything,” Belle replied, unable to keep the surprised from her voice. “To be with someone…it’s so much more than finding a good social match. I knew someone in the village where I come from who thought like you. He wanted to marry me only because he thought I was beautiful enough to hang on his arm as some sort of trophy.”

“Well, I suppose you’re pretty for a village girl, but…” Nicole started, but Belle cut her off.

“The point is, I never loved him, and he never really loved me. I couldn’t marry someone who I couldn’t trust to take care of my heart. But then I met Adam and I realized how full a life could be. I never wanted to go a day without seeing him, or feeling the touch of his hand on mine…”

There was much more she wanted to say, how she found comfort in his gaze and pleasure in any conversation, how she dreamed of him at night…but such things were too close to her heart to be shared with Nicole. 

“You deserve that, too,” Belle continued. “You should be free to find someone to share your life and your heart with, not simply because he’s the highest born noble. What does that matter when you’re sitting together alone on a cold winter’s night?”

Nicole was silent for a moment, staring at the carved wooden back of the pew in front of them.

“I—” she started. “My father always said that I had to marry someone rich enough to take care of us. There’s so few of those left who would marry me. When Adam came back and Prince Gustave invited us to the castle, I thought that would be my chance.”

Gustave had told Belle that the Marquis had volunteered to go with him to visit, but now was not the time to bring that up. 

“I understand,” Belle replied. “But don’t you think it’s more important you find someone to love, who loves you in return? You’ll be the one spending time with him, after all, not your father. I think your father will want your happiness in the end.”

Nicole shook her head, but didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“I should go,” she said suddenly and all but ran from the chapel. Belle watched her go, hoping that she had seen a moment of understanding in her eyes, hardly daring to believe that a few simple words could affect her so greatly.

_____

He had been declared a living prince again, and was about to wed his true love. All that was left after this was to formally take ownership of the lands he should have inherited to begin with. He and Gustave still had to discuss what to do about their lands being conjoined now, but that was for another time. 

Even so, Adam found himself being bombarded with questions and advice from lesser nobles, from the villages themselves, even from Gustave’s advisors, who seemed to have shifted their allegiance to him already.

He tried to take care of these requests as best he could, but more and more often Adam found himself saddling a horse to escape the crowded castle and confusing madness that centered around the wedding. 

Things would calm down after the wedding, he knew. So many strangers were invading what used to be his solitary home, solitary but for his servants, that is, but they would all be gone after the wedding. The requests wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t be that lucky, but at least they would be coming in the form of letters where he could take his time and form a somewhat intelligent response. He just hoped he was up to the task.

Two days remained until the wedding and Adam found himself growing nervous for the coming event. He began to doubt yet again that he was good enough for Belle; surely someone like him couldn’t possibly deserve someone as good and kind as her. 

His own memories were certainly no help in convincing him, jumping back painfully to the moments where he had imprisoned her father, took away her freedom, yelled and growled at her, and put his own needs ahead of hers. Adam was terrified of reverting back to his cruel ways despite Belle’s influence. He was barely five months out of the enchantment, it was hardly enough time to think that the Enchantress wouldn’t simply throw him back into the curse again.

But whenever he was near her, Adam felt whole, as if a piece of himself had been missing and was only truly filled when he held her in his arms. She had done so much for him, stood by his side through so much, giving him a love he had never known before; how could he bear to give her up?

As he stood in the West Wing during a rare moment of solitude, Adam turned to the rose that still remained under the bell jar, suspended in air yet void of all other magic. Belle had accepted his proposal, hadn’t she? Not to mention she had endured all of Gustave’s plottings, helped him through that and through his floundering in the aftermath. Surely she never would have done all those things if she didn’t love him.

Adam closed his eyes and saw again Belle’s joyful face looking down at him as he bared his heart to her, proposing they spend the rest of their lives together. That memory washed away all others, his doubt receding and excitement taking over. Truly, he was the luckiest man to have lived, to have earned the love of such a wonderful person as Belle.

Chapter Text

She and Adam spent a wonderful morning the day before their wedding reading The Odyssey to one another. Belle was glad Adam was no longer shy about reading to her; though Belle enjoyed reading to him, to hear his reactions to the story, it was just as enjoyable to give her voice a rest and let the sound of his voice wash over her.

It was also a relief to be doing something that did not involve the wedding in any way, something from their normal routine, something that brought them both back to the quiet days before the enchantment was broken. Belle was excited beyond belief to wed Adam, but the thought of it also made her a bit queasy. She decided it was best not to think about it, and merely enjoyed Adam’s company.

But after they shared lunch together (her father came up only long enough to grab a plate of food before returning to his workroom. She had hardly seen him in the past couple of weeks and thought maybe it was all the strangers in the castle that kept him hidden) the wedding became impossible to ignore, for Lumiere and Cogsworth had come and insisted that she and Adam say goodbye until tomorrow. 

“You cannot see each other so close to the wedding. It is terribly bad luck!” Lumiere exclaimed.

“Really, I think you should’ve been away some time ago, but I let Lumiere have this one,” Cogsworth added.

“But—” Belle began and looked to Adam helplessly. But to her surprise, he was grinning.

“All right, all right,” he agreed and placed his hands on the shoulders of his two loyal servants. “I promise I’ll go and hide from Belle soon. Give us a few minutes?” Cogsworth grumbled a bit, but Lumiere shoved him back through the door with one last wide grin.

Before she could say anything, Adam had his arms around her shoulders and was pulling her gently to his chest. She went willingly, wrapping her amrs around his waist.

“You still do want to marry me, right?” she heard him ask and realized that Adam was as frightened of tomorrow as she was. But she knew that to have Adam in her life was exactly what she wanted, and that knowledge gave her courage.

“Of course,” she said, her voice muffled slightly in the folds of his coat. “You’re my home. I love you.”

Adam’s arms held her tighter and she felt him kiss the top of her head. She raised her face to his and reached up to pull him into a proper kiss, enjoying the bliss of their lips gently pressing together. They broke apart and Adam drew her close to him again.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into her hair before releasing her. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” she confirmed and drew him into one last kiss knowing the next time they did so they would be man and wife. He smiled at her one more time before leaving, she assumed for the West Wing, and she was left wondering what to do while she waited for the coming day.

“Ah, I see I am too late for lunch,” Gustave said, sliding into the room just moments after Adam left.

“There’s still plenty. Let me make you a plate,” she offered, waving away a servant who had stepped forward to help. Gustave had been very tame these past few weeks, allowing Adam to take more responsibility and saying very little about how the wedding was to be arranged. Belle was grateful for that and began to hope that Gustave had accepted the inevitable, that they might be friends again.

“Thank you,” he said and sat down. She joined him, pouring herself a glass of water and taking a little more fruit so he might not have to eat alone.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” he asked as he ate.

“I am,” she said easily. “Though of course I’m a little nervous, too. It’s a big step both of us are taking.”

“Well, it’s only natural that you two marry, after all. Since you’re the one that broke the enchantment, I mean.”

“I suppose,” she said slowly, unsure of where he was going with this.

“You two must have formed a tremendous bond during that time. I can only imagine how it must have been to be his sole companion, the only one to be able to give him comfort, the only one he could turn to when he needed someone to talk to.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. He was up to something, she could feel it. His words weren’t harsh, but there was an oiliness to them she couldn’t trust.

“Only that you two have really been through something intense together and that it’s only fitting my nephew marries the one who saved him. And don’t let the talk of your not being noble worry you. After today it’s all in the past.”

“I’m not worried about that,” she said flatly.

“That’s wonderful, my dear,” Gustave praised.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I’ve got rather a lot to do,” she said, suddenly not to keen on keeping him company.

“Of course, of course. Don’t forget to get some rest; a tired bride does not make a good impression.” Belle nodded, but said nothing, only rushed from the room as quickly as she dared.

Why had he said all those things to her? None of them were outright nasty, but they left her with a pit in her stomach just the same. 

Was Adam only marrying her because of the enchantment? He might not even know it himself, the desperation in his loneliness might have made him fall in love with his last chance no matter what.

She shook her head angrily, trying to drive away those wretched thoughts. Gustave was trying to put doubt in her head, trying to drive her away. It was just another way for him to try and regain control over Adam.

And yet the idea of it still buzzed in the back of her mind like a fly that refused to leave a room.

Chapter Text

Adam woke in the morning but did not open his eyes right away, trying to understand the bubble of excitement that welled up in his chest. He took the moments of confusion to stretch, allowing his mind to catch up with his heart and smile broadly as he realized this was the day he would finally marry Belle.

Though he should have immediately gotten up to get ready for the day, he lingered a moment or two, smiling bemusedly at what the day would bring. He tried to picture what Belle might look like in her mother’s wedding dress she refused to show him, but his imagination failed him.

With a sigh, he finally rose and dressed in an informal linen shirt and trousers. The wedding was still hours away and he did not relish the idea of being in his suit more than he had to.

Though he wanted nothing more than to go down to breakfast with Belle, he knew Cogsworth and Lumiere would have his head if he did so, it being bad luck and all, so he simply summoned a servant to bring his food for him. To his surprise, it was Cogsworth himself who came in moments later with Adam’s breakfast tray.

“Have you seen Belle?” he asked, trying to be calm but hearing his voice sounding strained and anxious. 

“She’s eating breakfast with her father in the small dining room,” he replied.

“How did she look? Did she say anything?” Adam asked quickly, wondering if she was as nervous as he was.

“She—” Cogsworth paused and for a moment Adam began to fear for the worst. “She seems to be so very happy, sire,” he continued with a wide grin. “You have nothing to fear. As a matter of fact, she asked that I tell you good morning and that she is very eager to see you.”

Adam found more pleasure than perhaps was warranted from that simple message, but he could not stop the grin that spread across his face. 

“Is there a reply?” Cogsworth asked.

“You’re actually volunteering to shuttle messages back and forth now?” Adam asked, astounded at Cogsworth’s offer.

“Oh, just this once, Master,” Cogsworth replied. 

“Well, if you’re sure, tell Belle…tell her I’ll see her soon,” he finished lamely. There was so much he would’ve liked to say instead, but not through Cogsworth.

“Very well, Master,” he agreed and left, though Adam did not miss the amused smirk on Cogsworth’s face. 

_____

Belle wished her father would have stayed with her that morning, but directly after breakfast he returned to his workroom, saying he wanted to work on a few things before the hubbub of the day started. 

So she was left to pass the time until Madame Armoire would inevitably bustle her off to get ready for the wedding. 

Her wedding. 

She elated at the knowledge that in a few hours time, she would be saying her vows to Adam.

When she first moved to the village from Paris, she had almost hated her father for taking her away from her best chances at an adventure. A small village didn’t seem like any place to find the adventures she dreamed of, to live the exciting life she could only experience through her books. But she was wrong, so very, gloriously wrong. It was certainly not the adventure she had anticipated, but it had become more than she ever dared to hope for.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about what she was about to do. It was no small thing to promise yourself to another person for the rest of your life, and nerves picked at her mind until she decided that what she needed was a distraction. So she went to the library, picked up King Arthur, and dove into its pages, every so often recalling fondly her Beast’s reaction when she first read it to him.

“There you are!” Madame Armoire’s voice broke into King Arthur’s world some time later. Belle smiled, knowing it was only a matter of time before she was found.

“We’ve got to get a move on if you want to make it to your weddng on time!”

“I’m coming,” she said, supressing a giggle at her frantic attitude. 

Mrs. Potts was waiting for them in Belle’s room, as Belle had anticipated. What she had not expected was to see Babette there as well. 

“Bonjour, Mistress,” the maid exclaimed when Belle entered. “Is this not exciting? You are at last to be married!” Belle agreed wholeheartedly. “I am so glad to be here with you all. I absolutely adore weddings! Thank you for allowing me to help you, Mistress!”

Belle smiled at Babette’s evident eagerness and set aside the fact that she could not actually remember asking for Babette’s help.

Before she was ready to hand herself over to the three women, though, Belle turned to where her wedding gown now hung on the wardrobe’s door, eager for a look at the finished project that had been delivered while she was in the library that morning.

The castle’s seamstresses had done a magnificent job bringing her mother’s dress back to life. Folded in the trunk for years, it had become faded and out of fashion. But now, Belle was convinced they had used some sort of magic to make it as it was now.

The gown had been a simple thing with little in the way of embellishments, but now the white satin gown fairly gleamed. The full skirt had been layered underneath with new fabric and fluffed back to life until it was just as wide as Belle’s golden gown. The skirt’s hem, which Belle was glad to see did not boast a long train, was lined with silver ribbon. The seam where the bodice met the skirt, coming to a point in the front, was also lined in that same silver ribbon. A sheer, silver fabric was gathered on the bodice at the shoulders to form a sort of cap sleeve, meeting the bodice with clusters of pearls.

More of that sheer fabric was draped over the white skirt, tucked and inlaid with more pearls and even some diamonds, giving the illusion that her gown was sparkling silver. 

It was too lovely: a dress meant for a princess rather than for a simple village girl.

“Come now, love,” Mrs. Potts said, drawing Belle out of her thoughts. “You should have a bath, then we’ll help you with your hair.”

Belle did as she was bid, turning away from the fairy dress.

She lingered in the warm water longer than she should have, making sure to scrub every speck of garden soil from under her fingernails. She would not give any of the nobles cause to say she was not fit to stand beside Adam, not this day of all days.

For the hundredth time, she pushed away the awful though that perhaps she should not be marrying Adam. What claim did she have on a prince? Was this all only because she was the one to break the spell on him? She shook her head, but those thoughts Gustave put in her mind were getting harder to ignore as the hour of the wedding drew closer.

When she was sufficiently scrubbed, her skin pink from her efforts, she dried herself off and took a deep breath, steadying herself for the chaos that was about to unfold. As ready as she could be, she stepped out of the washroom and allowed Madame Armoire, Mrs. Potts, and Babette to primp and pet her into the semblance of a bride. And, she had to admit, the results were rather astonishing.

Madame Armoire had piled Belle’s hair into much the same style as it had been for Belle’s first dance with Beast, except now there were intricate braids and small pins with pearls on the ends dotted through her hair. And atop her head now rested a delicate silver tiara. It was a wondrously ornate item, the silver twisted and curved around itself, holding several diamonds and pearls in its embrace. Belle had tried to object to wearing it, saying she was not a princess and did not deserve such a thing.

“It’s customary that the bride of nobility does wear one, my dear,” Mrs. Potts said. “And it does look beautiful on you. The Master would be pleased if you wore it.”

“We shouldn’t keep spoiling him by giving him what he wants, you know,” she protested amiably, but kept the tiara where it was.

A knock at the door paused their preparations and Babette opened the door to reveal Louis the gardener.

“Louis!” Belle cried, happily suprised at the sight of the old gardener.

“Bonjour, Belle,” he greeted and Belle smiled, glad that he was one of the few people who still called her by name.

“Lumiere put me in charge of your bouquet and…well here,” Louis said a little clumsily and held out a lovely bouquet of flowers.

“They're beautiful!” Belle exclaimed and took the bouquet to examine it. It was made up primarily of the irises that she had helped grow and cultivate, dotted throughout with a small white flower. As Belle looked closer, however, she noticed at the center of the bouquet, visible only to her as she looked down at it, was a deep red rose.

“Oh, Louis,” she breathed and caressed the hidden rose gently. It was a rose that had led Belle and Adam through their adventures together, a rose that made her think of the day Adam proposed to her. It was fitting that she should carry one today.

Before Louis could stop her, Belle bent to embrace him. “Thank you so much,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his stiff figure. After a moment, she felt one hand gently pat her back.

“All the best today,” he said when she finally released him, and then he was gone again.

“I’ll put this somewhere safe while you finish getting ready, Mistress,” Babette offered and took the bouquet from her.

“Thank you,” she replied and watched after her bundle of flowers for a moment before turning at last to put on her wedding gown, her heart beating furiously.

Chapter Text

Adam’s fingers fumbled nervously over the buttons of his coat: a handsome, silk garment of a blue so pale it seemed to be almost white.

“You’ll be fine, Master,” Cogsworth insisted as he smoothed out Adam’s collar for him.

“Oui, Master. You have already earned Belle’s love, now all you must do is claim it for the world to know!” Lumiere added grandly.

Adam smiled at the words that were meant to embolden him, but he was far too nervous for them to do much good. This was a terror like nothing he had ever felt before; the only time anything came close to this feeling was the night he first danced with Belle, the night he had finally decided to tell Belle how he truly felt about her. Now, at the brink of a new passage of his life, the excitement and fear now coiled up in his stomach until he hardly knew which way was up.

He wished he could talk to Belle, hear the kind, calming words she might speak to him. but of course that was impossible, so he simply had to trust that all would be well. After everything they had been through, it simply had to be. 

Adam glanced at the image of himself in the mirror one last time; he had gotten more or less used to seeing the man reflected back at him, but it still took him a moment to remind himself that that man was him. 

“Are you ready, Master?” Cogsworth asked, provoking Adam into turning away from the mirror and towards his new life.

“Y-yes,” he replied, trying and failing to find his bravery.

“Would it help if you used the mirror?” Lumiere suggested, motioning to the small hand mirror Adam had not touched since the enchantment was broken. He wasn’t even sure if it still worked, but the idea of seeing Belle now was nearly irresistible. 

“That’s cheating, Lumiere,” Adam scolded, wanting more than anything to catch a glimpse of her, to reassure himself that this was all real. Lumiere grinned and said nothing further.

“I wish I could talk to her though, just for a moment, just to…I don’t know,” Adam trailed off and told himself he was acting like a child.

A knock on the door sent his already nervous heart nearly flying through his chest.

“Who is it?” Cogsworth asked, his own voice filled with confusion as he walked towards the doors.

“It’s me,” Belle’s voice called, muffled through the thick wood. “Don’t open the door but…could I speak with Adam for a moment?”

“We shall be downstairs, Master,” Lumiere said and all but pushed Cogsworth out the door to make a hasty excit. Adam heard Lumiere exlaim ‘oh, la la!’ as he caught sight of Belle, but the door shut before Adam could be tempted to peak.

“Belle, is everything all right?” he asked quickly, afraid of why she might be seeking him out now.

“Yes. I just—I just wanted to talk to you. I’ve missed you and…well I’m a little nervous,” she confessed. Adam put his hand to the door, wishing he could embrace her. 

“I am, too,” he admitted. “But it’s just you and me, when it comes down to it,” he continued, finding that his confidence was growing in light of Belle’s nervousness. She had always been the one to comfort him, to be calm and understanding when he was confused or worried. Now it was his turn to comfort her at last.

“Belle, I love you. This whole thing is much bigger than either of us wanted, I know. But all that matters is that we love each other, we belong to each other.”

“I know I’m being silly,” her voice said after a moment. “But you’re not…not just marrying me because I’m the one who broke the enchantment?”

“No!” Adam blurted, almost angry that such a thing would even enter Belle’s mind. “Belle, no. We fell in love, and that’s why the enchantment broke. It wasn’t because of the curse that I fell in love with you. I knew what you being in the castle meant, of course. Your presence gave me hope, but I did not fall in love with you simply because of that. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry, I know it’s ridiculous to even ask…”

“It’s not. Belle—” 

Frustrated with the door, Adam opened it, just a few inches, and extended his hand towards the woman who had been his strength for so long and now at last needed him.

His heart leapt as he felt Belle’s hand slip into his own, felt her lips kiss his palm. Carefully, he reached up blindly until he cupped Belle’s cheek, so soft and warm beneath his fingers. 

“I love you,” he heard her say, her voice clearer through the gap in the door.

“I love you, too,” he replied wholeheartedly. One more kiss to his fingers and she released his hand. He reluctantly pulled back, but did not close the door.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said and Adam was pleased to hear her voice was lighter, her worries relieved for now. “Don’t peak now.”

“I won’t,” he promised and listened to the rustle of her skirts as she made her way back down the hall. When the sound disappeared, he waited another five full minutes before daring to venture forward at last. 

_____

Belle ducked into a small antechamber beside the chapel doors, meant to give her a few minutes alone while the rest of the guests filed into their seats. She stood nervously alone for several moments, twisting her fingers together until her father came in at last.

“Oh my. Belle, you’re so beautiful,” Papa exclaimed as he entered. He had come into the room far enough for the door to close behind him, but seemed unable to move any further.

“You look very handsome, Papa,” she returned, amused by her father’s reaction and equally taken about by it. Her observation was true, though; her father wore a rich, midnight blue suit that was unlike anything Belle had ever seen him in and he looked proud wearing it.

Her father still seemed to be speechless, but moved forward at last and took hold of her hands. Belle could hardly stand the emotion in her father’s eyes; he had always been a loving parent, but what Belle saw now was emotion beyond what she was accustomed to. There were tears shining in his eyes as he gazed at her with what Belle could see was a mixture of pride, love, excitement, and a little bit of sorrow as well. 

“Your mother would be so proud of you,” he said at last, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.

“I wish she was here,” she confessed, feeling tears begin to well in her own eyes. Just for today, Belle would want to know that her mother was happy with Belle’s choice. Belle wanted her Maman to see her off on this important journey, this new chapter in her life.

“I know she would be so happy,” Papa said, his voice thick with emotion. “She wanted you to be happy, to find someone who loved your heart and soul as we do. I know she would be pleased that you found Adam. And so am I.”

“Thank you, Papa,” she said and embraced him, feeling the warmth of his love radiate into her. It meant so much that he should approve of Adam, and just as much that he thought her mother might approve as well.

“Now,” Papa said, pushing her gently away and sniffing into a handkerchief. “I think it’s about time to start. Shall we get ready?”

Belle nodded, suddenly unsure of her own ability to speak, and followed her father out of the antechamber and towards the closed chapel doors.

Belle couldn’t stop shaking as she stepped up to the large, intimidating doors. She tried to remember the conversation she and Adam had just a few minutes ago. She knew Gustave had been trying to get under her skin, and she was ashamed she at let him, but nonetheless she was glad of those stolen words with Adam that dismissed her fears.

Still, her hands insisted on shaking, so she pictured herself sitting in the library with Adam, serenely reading a book to him while he lounged nearby. Picturing the two of them like that calmed her and gave her the strength to step forward and place her hand in her father’s arm.

His other hand came up to cover hers and Belle looked down to meet his eyes. She was unsurprised, yet shaken anew, when she saw there were tears in his eyes and a warm smile on his lips. She felt tears start to blur her own vision and blinked them back quickly, smiling at her father. It wouldn’t do for a bride to cry her way down the aisle, though they’d be tears of nothing less than pure joy.

When two footmen stepped up to open the doors for them, Belle was in control of herself again. With one last steadying breath and taking a tighter grip on her father’s arm, the doors opened and she was finally able to see Adam, waiting for her at the end of the room.

Chapter Text

Adam turned when he heard the doors to the chapel open up and felt his heart leap at the sight that met his eyes. Belle was there at last, a shimmering vision as she seemed to almost glide towards him, her beautiful face delicately framed in a long veil that draped across her bare shoulders and swept along behind her. 

His heart, which had been beating too quickly, suddenly stopped as he realized that this beautiful, wonderful woman had actually agreed to marry him. He was going to be able to spend his life with her, to have adventures and grow old with her. 

Six months ago he had been convinced he would remain a Beast till the end of his days, alone in his self-made prison. But now he found himself almost grateful for the enchantress and her curse, for it meant Belle was there, coming to stand beside him now. 

Belle drew level with him, met his gaze, and smiled that heartbreakingly beautiful smile of her, the smile he had grown to love and recognize as a happiness just for him. 

Adam had the presence of mind enough to bow in gratitude to Maurice as he placed Belle’s hands in his own, signifying his permission that this all happen. Maurice could have easily kept his daughter from marrying the creature who had imprisoned them and tore them apart (well, perhaps not so easily considering Belle’s willful mind) but instead Maurice had decided to forgive Adam and allow him a happiness Adam still wasn’t sure he deserved.

He turned back to his Belle, his bride, and vaguely he was aware that the ceremony began. The Archbishop who came in for the ceremony began speaking, but Adam could not tear his gaze away from Belle’s soft hazel eyes. 

They had decided beforehand to speak their own words at the wedding, despite the fact that the Archbishop forbade it. The stuffy old man insisted that tradition called for a certain order and could not be disrupted. So they decided they could whisper their words while the Archbishop droned on with words that had little to do with them.

“I love you, Belle,” Adam started first, keeping his voice low so only Belle could hear, when the Archbishop found his stride in his own speech. 

“You saved me from a terrible fate. You showed me the beauty in the world, the beauty in a soul as far gone as my own had been. You’re always so patient with me, helping me to understand and to learn more than I ever cared to before. You opened up the world to me, Belle. And you taught me how to love. You are a miracle. I’m so grateful for every day I get to see you and be reminded of the goodness in you and of the soul you found in me. I am honored to stand beside you now, to walk through life with you, to join you in your adventures. Thank you, my love, for daring to tame a Beast. Thank you for finding a way to love me.”

He reached to tuck that same stray piece of hair off Belle’s forehead as he finished speaking and noticed that there were tears in her eyes. For half a moment, Adam was worried he said something wrong and his small courage crashed into anxiety, but her shining smile assured him that they were tears of joy. Adam smiled in return and restrained the urge to kiss his beloved, settling on gently squeezing her fingers.

Belle opened her mouth to speak, but the Archbishop raised his voice, causing her to pause and look at him attentively for a few minutes. Adam knew the Archbishop could not be pleased that the two people he was trying to marry were not paying attention, but he didn’t care. His words could not possibly represent his relationship with Belle more than their own words.

After a little while, though, his voice returned to its normal volume and Belle turned back to Adam and he held his breath, wondering what she might have to say.

_____

Belle knew that the aisle she had to walk down was rather long; she wasn’t sure that she would be able to endure so many strangers’ eyes on her for so long, but when the doors at last opened, the crowds standing on either side of her did not matter. All she chose to see what the man in a handsome pale blue coat standing at the end of the aisle. And if Gustave near the front of the chapel wore a thin-lipped, strained smile, she did not notice. The only smile she saw was Adam’s as she took sure, sturdy steps towards him.

When Adam began to speak, his voice soft so only she could hear, her eyes filled with tears despite her best efforts, blurring Adam’s image but not the beautiful words he spoke. It was not the first time he thanked her for breaking the enchantment, not the first time he insisted she had found a soul where he was convinced there had been none, but the raw, open sincerity of his words and the emotion behind them made the words new. 

But now it was her turn to speak and Belle wasn’t entirely sure she had the courage to open her heart as Adam had. He had been growing in confidence since he regained his humanity and his words were proof of how far he had come. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” she began, surprisingly steadily, finding her courage in the familiar, gentle pool of Adam’s gaze. “You are such a surprising person; the moment you allowed your temper to fade,” she said with humor in her voice, making him smile, “I could discover that underneath that anger was a gentle, dear soul. I never thought I would find love; really I never thought I would marry at all. But you saw me for who I am, to encourage me to be myself. It was clear that you enjoyed life, or were enjoying rediscovering it. That excitement and enthusiasm, and your gentleness and curiosity made me love you. You are my dearest friend, my love, and I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to spend my life with you.”

Belle’s heart skipped a beat as Adam’s expression pulled into one of longing, a look so similar to he one he wore the day they had fed the birds in the snow together, the expression that sent her heart beating wildly and began the questions of their new relationship buzzing in her mind.

The Archbishop’s voice broke their gaze once more, but this time it was for a good reason. Now he was asking for the traditional words that would bind them together for eternity.

“Belle,” Adam started, his voice steady, decisive, “I take you to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part,” Adam said carefully and Belle noticed the smile he was trying to suppress, making it harder to keep her own grin at bay.

She repeated the words at the Archbishop’s prompting, but she preferred the words she and Adam had said to each other. Then the rings were presented, two simple silver bands that matched each other in every way but size, and she finally gave the traditional words the attention the Archbishop demanded.

Adam took her hand and met her gaze and Belle tried vainly to banish the tears that once more clouded her eyes. 

“With this ring, I thee wed,” he said solemnly and gently pushed the silver band onto her finger. She returned the words and the gesture, never breaking his gaze. A few more words from the Archbishop that Belle was too distracted to listen to, and then Adam was leaning down to her. She raised her hand to his cheek and their lips met. Her heart soared, knowing this was their first moment as husband and wife, their first act of their new life together.

Chapter Text

Adam led the procession of guests towards the dining hall with Belle on his arm, his new wife, his love, unable to stop beaming down at her. He was sure he looked like a fool simply grinning at her, but it was hard to look away.

The meal was more or less a blur for Adam; food was presented in front of him, toasts were made, and guests chatted, but all was lost on him. 

A year ago, Adam would never had thought that he would be sitting beside his bride, human and overwhelmed with joy. Of course, a year ago Adam would never have believed himself capable of such emotion and probably would have laughed in the face of the person who told him so. Nevertheless, he was there, watching Belle chat with the people next to her, occasionally smiling at him or taking his hand under the table. 

It was difficult to be able to talk to her with the noise of the dining hall crowded with so many people, so he contented himself with filling his eyes with her. It wasn’t until the meal was over and they moved into the ballroom that Adam was finally able to speak to his bride. 

“Are you ready?” she asked and Adam felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“For what?”

“Our first dance, of course,” she replied with a gentle smile and only then did Adam realize she had led him into the center of the ballroom and that her long veil had been removed, by whom and when Adam could not guess.

He glanced around quickly, enough to realize that their guests were gathered around the floor looking at them expectantly. Hand shaking once again, he took Belle’s hand in his own and wrapped his other hand around her waist. But as they begun to dance, Adam was able to forget the eyes watching them and focused only on the woman on his arms.

“How are you feeling?” Belle asked as he guided them around the floor.

“Like I’m dreaming,” he replied honestly. “Are you sure this is all real?” 

“Should I pinch you to prove it?” Belle teased, making him chuckle.

“You look so beautiful,” he said after a moment and grinned as a blush crept into her cheeks. “Are you happy?”

Belle’s hand came up from his shoulder to carress her cheek. “More than I imagined possible. Truly.”

Adam grinned and spun her across the floor, thrilled by the joy in is beloved’s eyes and her laughter as he bid her to twirl out at arm’s length and then return to him once more.

____

Belle felt dizzy as she danced with her new husband, a dizziness which had little to do with the circles he spun them in. It was amazing to her that she should be in the arms of her own husband who would make her happy all of her days, who she wanted nothing more than to make happy in return.

She would be more than content to spend the entire night in Adam’s arms, but alas the dance had to end and she was brought back to the present moment by the subdued applause from the nobles that surrounded them. 

She glanced around at the unfamiliar faces, nodding and smiling at them politely before being escorted off the floor to open it up for their guests. Fortunately, not all the guests were strangers. Though many of the servants were present during the ceremony and now for the celebration, they were there to work, not as guests, and Belle had to play the role in not treating them as such. But as Belle and Adam reached the edge of the dance floor, Mrs. Potts and her father came up to them.

“Congratulations, my dears!” Mrs. Potts exclaimed and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Now, now, my dear you mustn't cry,” Maurice said consolingly to Mrs. Potts. “They’ll think you’re not happy for them.”

“You’re one to talk, Maurice,” she scolded and batted at him with her handkerchief. “You hardly stopped crying through the whole ceremony!”

Maurice flushed, Adam laughed, and Belle beamed, overjoyed that her father and Mrs. Potts were getting a long so well.

“When you’ve got a minute,” Maurice said, clearly trying to change the subject, “I’d like to borrow you and my new son-in-law.”

“Of course, Papa. We should greet our guests firsts, though,” she said, wondering what her father could want that would take them away from the throng.

“All right,” he agreed. “Find us when you’re ready. But first, I’d like a dance with the bride if her husband will allow it.”

Belle giggled as Adam gestured his unneeded consent and let Papa lead her onto the dance floor again.

“You’ve done so well, my dear,” Papa said as they began to turn around the floor. It had been a long time since Belle had danced with her father; it must have been well before they had left the city, for she remembered having to reach up to her father’s shoulder rather than down. But the steps were familiar and it was wonderful to dance with him again. “I knew you would find your adventures at last.”

“I’m glad you did. I started to doubt it for a little while there,” she confessed.

“It did look pretty bleak, didn’t it?” he chuckled. “But it all worked out in the end.”

“I’m so glad you gave Adam a chance, Papa. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“You’ve always had a good judge of character. And when you came back to me, there was something so different about you I knew something had to have changed. Besides, when I met him for myself the second time, he was the perfect gentleman.”

“Are you happy being here, Papa? Are you comfortable living here?” Belle had asked him this several times before, and always the answer was positive, but it didn’t hurt to ask once more.

“My dear, I haven’t been so happy since your mother was alive.”

“I think that Mrs.—ah, Maggie has got something to do with that,” she pressed and grinned as her father blushed.

“Yes, well, she’s a wonderful woman. You don’t think it’s wrong to be seeking her company. you don’t mind, I mean, do you?”

“Why would I?” she replied quickly. “She seems to be very happy when she’s with you, and I haven't seen you smile so much since Maman was with us. I think you deserve happiness, Papa, and I couldn’t be more glad that you’ve found it with Maggie.”

“Thank you, Belle. Now, enough about me. Tell me when I can get some grandchildren.”

“Papa,” Belle gasped in shock.

“What? I’m not getting any younger, you know,” he replied.

“You’ll get your grandchildren when Adam and I are ready, Papa. Let us learn how to be married to each other for a little while first.”

“Of course, of course,” Papa said. “I can’t believe my girl is married. And to a prince of all things. You’re really living one of your fairy tales.”

“I really am,’ she agreed and glanced over her father’s head to catch Adam’s eye.

“Go back to your husband now,” Papa said as the dance ended. “And remember to find me when you can get away.”

“Of course,” she agreed and bent to kiss his cheek before they broke away, each to seek their own loves.

But as she made her way to Adam, the crowd pressed in on her, carrying her away with questions and compliments. No one mentioned her low birth, which she was grateful for but also found rather odd. It wasn't a secret exactly, but Belle was grateful she didn't need to defend herself today. 

She was glad at least when she ran into Charles and his wife and spent several pleasant minutes chatting with them. Charles’ wife was a sweet at her husband, and she was glad of the chance to meet her. 

A little deeper into the crowd, Belle noticed Nicole in a lovely maroon gown standing nearby one of the large columns. From where Belle stood, it seemed as though Nicole was alone and Belle decided she should probably go over and be polite. 

But as she made her way over, Belle was able to see Nicole at a new angle and noticed that she was standing beside a tall, rather gangly red-headed man.

Belle was astonished to see how shyly Nicole was looking up at the man’s face and how he seemed to be blushing. She realized with a start that he was the son of a baron, several classes below Nicole’s current rank. No wonder her father had been pushing Nicole to marry up; he was unhappy that his daughter fancied a man he believed to be beneath her station. 

She decided not to interrupt them, but Nicole spotted her and waved her over. Her curiosity at this relationship overpowering any misgivings she felt about talking to Nicole, Belle joined them.

“I wanted to introduce you to Antony,” Nicole said, gesturing to the red-haired man.

“It’s nice to meet you, Antony,” Belle said, starting to extend her hand, but instead he bowed to her, so low she thought his nose might touch the floor.

“Good evening, Princess,” he said, his voice muffled as it was directed to his knees. “May I offer my best wishes to you on this most happy day.”

“That’s very kind, thank you,” Belle said, fighting a blush as he straightened up. Though she wasn’t quite sure if she should actually be addressed that way yet. Was she a princess now that she was Adam’s wife? Did it work like that? “I’m glad you were able to come. Your father was not able to?” She impressed herself with how well she remembered the guest list Gustave and the advisors helped her put together.

“Baron of Tott was not able to come tonight, so he sent Antony instead, isn’t that kind?” Nicole said, emphasizing the title so heavily Belle thought the people across the room would understand her meaning.

“What a wonderful treat for you,” Belle said, redirecting her gaze to Antony, but he had been looking at Nicole with a small smile on his lips. This made Belle hide a smile of her own; he was infatuated with Nicole. 

“I hope you enjoy yourself, Antony, and thank you for coming,” Belle said, excusing herself.

“Belle?” Nicole said, dodging away from Antony to walk with her for a small ways. “Um…I mean—what is your title now, anyway?”

“I’m really not sure,” Belle laughed. “But you can still call me Belle.” More for the sake that she was not used to being called anything else than to extend a friendly gesture at this difficult girl, but if Nicole chose to interpret it that way Belle wouldn’t stop her.

“Well, I just—I have something to tell you.”

“I know he’s a baron. I hope he treats you very well,” Belle said, glad for Nicole but already tiring of speaking about people’s ranks.

“No, not that. I mean, I think he will but—” Nicole paused and took a breath and Belle looked at her more closely. Was she nervous?

“I thought you should know that…well, after I left the castle the first time…I was going to leave you alone, leave Prince Adam alone. He made it so clear that he didn’t want me, I know a lost cause when I see it,” she started, not unkindly.

“But the letter you sent—”

“Prince Gustave had written to me. Well, left me a note in my luggage, really, so I read it as I was unpacking from the trip. It said that Adam wasn’t really happy with you, that he felt obligated to carry out his promise to you but was only looking for a way out. He—he painted you as a social climber, taking advantage of Adam and that I’d be doing Adam a favor chasing you away.”

Belle felt her eyes widen at this, her hands balling into fists once again, but this time her anger was not directed at Nicole.

“I have the letter still. Not with me, I didn’t want to risk it being found, but if you want I can send it to you. I promise I’m telling the truth.”

“I believe you,” Belle whispered, focusing on a point on the wall behind Nicole. “What changed your mind about me?” she asked, forcing herself to return to the present, where Nicole was somehow, impossibly, becoming her ally.

“When we talked in the chapel. You’re clearly so in love with him, I knew Prince Gustave couldn’t be right. And you’re annoyingly sweet, so I couldn’t see you manipulating Prince Adam like that, either,” she added with a careful, teasing smile. Belle laughed softly, appreciating her honesty.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said, unsure of what to do with this terrible new information. 

“I didn’t want to upset you, especially not today, but I thought you should know and it’s not the sort of thing you put in a letter.”

“No, it’s fine. You did right, and I appreciate it.” Belle reached forward to take Nicole’s hand briefly, squeezing her fingers gently to show her gratitude.

“What will you do about him?” she wondered.

“No idea,” Belle confessed, at a loss.

“Well, whatever it is—it seems strange to say this—but I’m on your side in this. If you need reinforcement, let me know.”

Belle felt such a wave a gratidute towards the previously bratty girl just then. Perhaps she had misjudged her before.

“I will, thank you. Now,” she said, clearing her throat and setting aside this new information for now. “I think you’d better get back to Antony before he pines away for you.” She nodded back towards Nicole’s beau, watching him try not to watch her.

“He’s very sweet,” Nicole said with a giggle, and was off again.

Belle paused for a moment, watching her go, and allowed herself another moment of seething anger towards the man she had thought was their friend, their ally. 

But today was not the day to address it; she didn’t even want to think about it any longer, so with some effort she pushed it to the back of her mind and looked for Adam to tell him of her happier discovery.

She caught up to Adam at last and turned him in the direction of Nicole and Antony.

“Look,” she said, nodding to them as their fingers entwined together.

“How about that,” Adam said in clear astonishment. “What wonders have you worked this time?”

“It wasn’t me,” she insisted. “I only said she should follow her heart. It seems she knew what she wanted all along, her father just didn’t want her to have it.”

“Fathers can be difficult. You’re very lucky to have Maurice.”

“Oh, that reminds me, we should go meet him. There was something he wanted to talk to us about, remember?”

“Let’s go now. They won’t miss us,” Adam said and took her hand, pulling her along as he weaved through the crowd.

“My boy!” Gustave came up behind them as they were looking for her father, clapping Adam on the shoulder and halting their progress. Belle inwardly sighed; she could do without seeing Gustave for awhile after the conversation she and Nicole just had. “You’ve done it at last. You married the girl you wanted.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Adam said and Belle noticed how Gustave swayed slightly on his feet. He was deep in his cups and no mistake. 

“I’ll be expecting little heirs running around soon now,” Gustave added and Belle watched as Adam’s face grew red and his mouth opened and closed, trying to respond but he seemed to have lost his voice. 

Belle smiled, her heart growing warm at the idea of having children with Adam, but just as equally as terrified by the idea as Adam seemed to be.

“I don’t think I’m ready to share Adam just yet, Gustave,” Belle said, coming to Adam’s rescue and biting back a much angier conversation she wanted to have with the older man. “I’d like to be selfish for a little while longer, if you don’t mind.”

“As you say, my dear,” Gustave consented with a nod and left them to resume their path towards her father.

“Breathe, Adam,” Belle reminded her new husband. Adam glanced at her and smiled, but she could still see paralyzing fear in his eyes. “We don’t need to worry about that for a long time, all right?” Adam nodded and seemd to relax a bit more, but he still seemed in rather a daze as they moved on to find her father.

Chapter Text

“There you are!” Papa exclaimed as she and Adam approached. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning them out the door of the ballroom.

“Where are you taking us, Papa?”

“You’ll see,” he said, barely even bothering to turn back when he answered. 

Belle glanced at Adam who shrugged, clearly as clueless as she was, and so they simply followed Papa and Mrs. Potts up the stairs and towards Belle’s room. Well, her old room. Tonight and forever more she would be staying in the West Wing with Adam. She knew most noble couples had seperate bedrooms, but they would do nothing of the sort.

“Oh, Papa,” Belle breathed as her father oepend thedoor. Sitting in the center of the room was a beautiful wooden chest, standing proudly. She bent over it, careful not to snag her dress, and ran her hands along its intricately carved surface in amazement.

_____

Belle seemed overjoyed at the presentation of the box. Yes, it was beautiful; Maurice had a remarkable talent in woodworking. But it clearly had a significance he didn’t understand.

“What is it?” he whispered to Mrs. Potts.

“It’s a hope chest,” she replied.

“A what?”

“A hope chest,” Maurice repeated, overhearing them. “A bride is supposed to present one to her husband when they get married as party of her dowry. Of course, we have no dowry for you as you know, but I thought now I could make one for you to pass down.”

Adam inwardly sighed as again the subject of children came up. He and Belle never had a serious conversation about having children together, but now he wished they had. Of course he wanted children, at least he thought he did, but not so soon. Belle seemed happy to wait as well, but whether it was only for his sake he couldn’t be sure.

“Papa this is beautiful,” Belle said, standing to embrace her father. “Thank you so much.”

“Maggie helped. The lining inside the lid is her work,” Maurice said, the pride in her voice evident. Belle went back and opened the lid to praise Mrs. Potts’ work and Adam joined her, but he was more interested in the beautiful carvings on the outside of the chest. He had never seen such delicate work; it must have taken Maurice weeks to complete.

“It’s beautiful,” he said in gratitiude to them both. Regardless of what it was meant for, Maurice had taken the time and effort to make this for them, and he was touched.

“Let’s leave them alone now, Maruice,” Mrs. Potts suggested, taking his arm. “Don’t ignore your guests now,” she added as she led Belle’s father away. Now that they were alone, Adam had an idea.

“Come, I have a gift for you, too,” Adam said, deciding it would be a perfect oportunity since they had already escaped from the crowds downstairs. 

“Wait, I do too!” she said, pulling out of his hand to go to her vanity. She retrieved a package he couldn’t quite see out of his drawer and hid it behind her skirts. 

“What is it?” he asked, trying to peek around her to see.

“Are you sure you want it now?” she asked. “It isn’t much.”

“Please?” he said, taking hold of her bare sholders gently and sliding down her arms, pretending that he would take the gift from her. She grinned and jumped out of his reach.

“All right, all right, here,” she said and held out the neatly wrapped package.

It was a handsome leather bound book, the leather cover pressed with a beautiful intricate design. He opened the book, expecting another story like the one she had given him at Christmas, but to his suprised the pages were blank. He looked up at Belle, confused.

“I thought this could be our book,” she explained. “We have hundreds of books with other stories in them, I thought it was time there was one with our stories in it. We can put our adventures in here.”

“I love it,” he said honestly and pulled her close to kiss her. “I can’t wait to start it. Do you think it will end happily like your favorite tales do?”

“We’ll have to wait and find out, but I have no doubt,” she replied with a gentle smile and pulled him back into another kiss. “Now, you said you had something to show me?”

“I suppose I did,” he grinned. “Come with me.”

He took her hand again and led her towards the West Wing. They stopped short of his rooms, turning instead to a door halfway down the hall, a room they had been in together only once before. 

“Adam?” he heard Belle ask when she recognized the door. Instead of replying at first, he opened the door to reveal the grand piano inside.

“I know you enjoyed what I played before,” he started, hearing in the way she said his name the apprehension at being brought back to the piano room that marked a low point in their history together. “I thought—I thought perhaps I might try again for you.”

“Adam, I never expected you to force yourself to do that. You don’t need to—”

“I’d like to,” he interrupted her. “I mean, if I was right in thinking that you…you enjoyed what I tried to do last time.”

Wordlessly, Belle took a seat in the chair nearest the piano and looked at him expectantly. Adam couldn’t help the chuckle as he sat on the piano’s bench to prepare himself once more to play for Belle.

_____

Belle all but held her breath as Adam raised his hands to the piano’s keys. The last time he had played for her, it had caused him terrible pain to do so, a pain she could not fully understand. She was nervous this session might end the same way the first one did, with Adam becoming inexplicably ashamed of himself, but she believed that Adam had come so far since then. The first time, he had been struggling to regain his humanity while trapped in the form of the Beast, torturing himself by trying to please her. Perhaps this time would be different.

But Belle’s worry faded as Adam began to play, once more feeling the sensation of floating amongst the music he created. It was a different song than the first, one Belle was not familiar with. But it was beautiful, the most lovely thing Belle had ever heard. 

It was amazing to her that anyone had such beauty in their soul, and even more amazing that Adam had found a way of expressing that beauty.

The song lasted several minutes, carrying Belle to the stars once more before gently setting her back on her chair as it ended. As the last notes faded, Belle sighed, allowing a tear to roll down her cheek.

“Belle?” she heard Adam call her and she opened her eyes. “Didn’t you like it?”

“Adam, that was so beautiful,” she breathed. “Thank you so much. Where did you learn that song?”

Adam sat on the chair beside her, so close she could feel his warm breath, and he wiped her tear away. “I didn’t. I wrote it.”

“Did you really?”

“Yes, I did,” he replied merrily and Belle got the impression he was laughing at her. “I hoped you would like it.”

“It was amazing!” she exclaimed. “Would you play it again for me?”

“Don’t you think we should go back downstairs?” he said, tucking a stray lock of hair from her face. 

“Must we? I’d really rather stay here with you,” she took his hand and held it between her own. She had no ambition to return to the nobles, not when she was here with Adam and the beautiful music he had created for her. 

“So would I. But it’s only for another few hours. And in a few days we’ll be traveling. You’ll be tired of me in no time.”

“Never,” she said and leaned forward to kiss him. “But I suppose we should go.”

They returned downstairs, if a little reluctantly, and performed their duties as hosts until it grew late and the guests began to leave. They had all come to bid goodnight to the new couple, even Nicole. They parted much more amiably than last time, and Belle wondered if they weren’t somehow becoming friends.

It was late; she and Adam were alone in the ballroom, barring a few servants who were snuffing out the candles for the night. It was as it had been, that first time they were in the ballroom together. The remnants of the celebration were still around them, but Belle had no trouble picturing the ballroom as it had been that first night with her Beast.

“We seem to have outlasted everyone else,” Adam said, wrapping one arm around her waist and taking her hand to lead her in small, slow circles, dancing to a tune only in his mind. “Aren’t you tired?”

“A bit,” she admitted. “But then you keep being charming and I want to linger a little longer,” she teased as they danced.

“Charming, am I? Well, I shall strive to be charming again the future, not just for tonight,” he promised solemnly, but she could see the merry glint in his eye. “Will that satisfy you?” 

“I suppose that will do,” she conceeded with a smirk. 

“Still, I should like to tell you one more thing before the night is over,” he confessed. But instead of speaking, he adjusted his grip on her hand to lead her out onto the balcony. She followed silently, wondering what he had to say, enjoying the touch of his fingers entwined in hers. 

He opened the balcony doors, the still warm air of early fall wrapping itself around them as the stars shimmered above, visible as the lights in the ballroom were snuffed out behind them.

Adam was silent for a moment, sitting on the short wall of the balcony and drawing her down beside him. She waited for him to speak.

“Do you know,” Adam finally began, “that when I first brought you out here, the first night we danced together, I had planned to tell you that I loved you?”

Belle paused. No, she hadn’t known that. Looking back, remembering how nervous Beast had been that night, it seemed clear to her now. But what would she have said in reply to him then? She herself had been nervous, though never more content than she was in Beast’s presence that night, but would she have been able to see into her own heart at that moment?

“I didn’t know that,” she replied simply.

“I was running out of time to tell you because of…well, you know. I thought that if I couldn’t tell you then, I might not ever, but I was terrified. In a way, I’m glad I couldn’t say it then. I don’t think it was the right time, though I very much wanted it to be.” Adam looked up at the stars as he spoke, but Belle was looking at him, the stars reflected in his blue eyes.

“I would have preferred that we didn’t have to go through all that we did later that night,” Belle added, flinching as she pictured for the thousandth time her Beast dying in her arms. “But I honestly can’t be sure what I would have said then.

“When I knew what it meant to lose you, when nothing else mattered and I could let my heart feel what it wanted…I’m sorry that’s what it took. If I had only been honest with myself, maybe we could have avoided all that…” she trailed off, wishing she could dismiss the guilt she still felt from that awful night.

Adam’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and held her close, his silk coat warm from the evening.

“So much for my being charming,” he said with the ghost of a laugh. “I didn’t bring you out here to feel guilty. I just wanted you to know that you have my heart, and have had it for so long now. It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” he said, pushing her away so he might look at her, a grin lighting his face and she couldn’t help but smile in return, her heart pleasantly tight. “How did you put it once? You’re stuck with me now.”

“That’s right,” she said, cheering at his open grin. “I’m yours.”

“And I am yours. You have no idea how much that means to me to say,” he replied, reaching up to cup her cheek with one warm hand.

“I might have some idea,” she replied with a small laugh, reaching up to hold his hand where it rested on her cheek. He was the adventure she never imagined, the home she didn't know she was searching for. Her Adam, her love, her Beast.