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Chapter Text

Settings:

The village and castle I've set in Gascogne. Why? Disney gives you a few clues as to the real-life location they based the kingdom/dukedom upon:

One: Check out the wiki article on Gascony (Gascogne in French), and also check out Google images, the pictures of the scenery alone, including the mountains and hills and pretty simple villages, are nearly identical to what we see in the movie.

Two: It's close to Spain and England, famed for its cuisine and far enough from Paris for it to be of little interest, (particularly since BatB seems to be set either during or soon after the French Revolution, there would be very little care from the villagers in why their Prince, left alone after the death of his family, had suddenly disappeared,) and very provincial.

Three: Gaston means "from Gascony/Gascogne," he's lived in the village his whole life, it's a great giveaway!

Paris, Avenue Champs- É lysées, 1778

Adam? Adam? Mon fils à moi?" A beautiful, worried woman called across the fashionable café, furnished with fine white tables and chairs matched with pale yellow walls dotted with elegant paintings and fixtures. Her curled, grey wig became slightly askew as she pushed her wide, embroidered silk gown past a dining couple, who blinked at the elegant woman, obviously of nobility, running around and calling out for her missing son.

Princess Aurélie Corinne of Gascogne smiled apologetically at a larger woman, whom the worried mother had nearly knocked off her chair in her haste to find her only son, "I am sorry, please excuse me, madame," she inclined her head, gazing out across the busy café. "Adam?!"

A white tablecloth upon a table in the far corner lifted up slightly, and a pair of large, amazingly blue eyes peered out from underneath the sunlit cloth. The look on the plump face of the owner of the blue eyes was one of cheekiness, a natural expression for the spoilt, nine-year-old boy, who, while settling into his hiding spot, removed his blue tri-corner hat from his head and tossed it aside.

"Do not worry, your highness, I will find the young Prince," an adult male voice called out, the blue-eyed boy hiding under the table scowled and pulled back down the tablecloth after he recognised the voice as belonging to Lumière.

The tall, elegant, erstwhile maître d' was a beloved companion and friend of the Prince and Princess of Gascogne, he travelled with the royal family whenever the young Prince and Princess accompanied them.

Usually, Mrs Angela Potts, the English nanny, would be minding Prince Adam, but she had just had another baby to add to her already large brood of seven. Her husband, Mr Jack Potts, the carriage driver, had travelled with them to Paris soon after he had seen and helped name the baby girl.

Prince Adam of Gascogne folded his arms in a huff over his current situation. His Maman, himself and his older sister were going home early with Lumière, while his Père, Prince Christophe, stayed in Paris on business.

Adam adored his father and saw him so little, it wasn't fair.

Pulling on the blue ribbon tying back his red-blond hair in a ponytail, Adam screwed up his pale features in an effort to stop his tears of frustration. He wouldn't cry. He was a noble Frenchman, a prince, a great-nephew of the King of France...

A pair of large shoes became visible under the Prince's gaze, and then the tablecloth lifted up to reveal the prominent-nosed, kindly features of slender Lumière, "Pourquoi bonjour, your highness," the brunette maître d' smiled widely.

Adam crept back further into his hiding place. "I shan't come out Lumière! No, no, no!" The boy snapped in response, kicking out with his elegantly shod feet as Lumière knelt down to the boy's level, and stuck his head under the table before he began to crawl forward after Adam.

"Oh, come now be reasonable your highness, your Père and Maman are waiting with your sister to take you back to the palace to pack for home, do you not wish to go home, your Highness?" Lumière went to grab the boy, who was furiously shaking his head as he kicked out again.

"No, no!" Adam complained.

The maître d' bumped his head on the underneath of the table as he dodged the kicks from the green, satin breach-clad legs of the young prince who was trying to clamber away. But Lumière was quicker than Adam gave him credit for, and he snatched up the boy around the waist, putting the kicking child under one arm as he crawled out from under the table.

Standing up Lumière placed Adam on the ground, pushed a strand of the boy's awry hair back in its ponytail, placed Adam's discarded tri-corner hat back on his head, and then Lumière turned the young Prince around to face his mother and father.

Prince Christophe had his mouth set in a serious line, his hands rested atop of his walking stick. Christophe's handsome, broad features framed his large, light brown eyes, which currently held a look of dismay as he gazed upon his dishevelled-looking son.

Princess Aurélie-Corinne stood beside her husband, holding the hand of a teenage girl, Princess Christine of Gascogne, (just turned sixteen and dressed in a gown of pink matched with a pink bow-pinned powdered wig,) who was gazing down at her younger brother with a look of sympathy and love.

"What is the meaning of this, mon fils?" Christophe's soft-spoken voice was full of love, but also stern reprimanding.

Adam chewed on his lower lip, looking down at the floor, "I did not want to leave, Père," he said softly. Christophe sighed and knelt down to his son's level, brushing back a lock of the wavy red-blond hair from Adam's forehead. "I... I wanted to stay here with you."

Prince Christophe patted his son's head, "Oh mon cher fils, my dear son, then who would look after the Castle while I was away? You will be Prince of Gascogne one day, and Cogsworth and Lumière have so much to teach you in my absence," he stood up. "But you must learn to accept these things, such as my staying in Paris while you go home with your mother and sister, with much more dignity and refinement as befits your nobility, you are not a pig-boy mon fils. Lumière?"

The maître d', his attention stolen for a moment by a gaggle of young women with their fans open in front of their faces, eyes wide as they watched the scene the Gascogne nobles were staging, quickly stood to attention at his master's tone.

"Oui, your Highness?"

"We will be taking the carriage back to Tuileries. You, however, will be escorting Prince Adam back to the palace on foot," Christophe looked down at Adam, who looked put out. "This will give him a chance to think about what he has done. Can I rely on you in this, good Lumière?" The Prince of Gascogne inquired of his friend and maître d'.

Lumière inclined his head then bowed, "You can rely on me Master," the slender man looked over at Adam, who was all but glaring at him. "I will see the Prince safely to the palace," Lumière smiled at the boy prince, who looked back down at his shoes, turning his glare upon his silver buckles instead.

"Very well then, it is done," Christophe took his wife's arm in his own. Aurélie looked back at her son with a worried look and Christine kept glancing over her shoulder, as her chastised brother and the slender maître d' followed them out of the café.

The covered carriage, made of the finest materials, glittered in the summer sun as it rested on the corner of the Avenue Champs-Élysées just in front of the café, the two white horses leading it were eating from feedbags. Standing nearby, already mounted on his huge, grey charger, was Capitaine Edgard Amable, the young Captain of the Gascogne guard.

The Capitaine's dark eyes lifted to watch Princess Christine with a heart-breaking expression of devotion, and he quickly dismounted from his horse to bow to the family.

Mr Potts, the carriage driver, immediately hopped down from his seat to remove the bags from the horses' heads, tipping his hat to the Gascogne family respectfully, as he rushed to open the carriage door. As soon as the feedbags were put away under the carriage, Mr Potts then helped the distraught Aurélie into the carriage.

Christine took this opportunity to break free from her mother's hand she unpinned something from her bodice, a large sapphire broach in gold, and rushed over to Adam, the girl's red hair falling out from her wig as she all but threw herself at her younger brother, and hugged him tightly.

"Je vous aime, I love you," Christine planted a kiss on Adam's cheek and pinned the sapphire broach onto the corner of Adam's hat.

Prince Adam held his sister close before their father gently pulled his blue-eyed son and daughter apart and led Christine into the carriage to sit beside her mother. The button and embellishments on the ruling Prince of Gascogne's long, light blue satin coat, glittered in the late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. With his elegant, powdered white wig and over six-foot height, Christophe was an amazing sight on the streets of Paris.

Something not lost on his son, who wanted to throw his arms around his beloved father, but Adam bravely stood back with Lumière, chewing on his lower lip as Christophe entered the carriage and sat down opposite his wife and daughter, leaning out of the window to say his farewell.

"We will see you back at Tuileries. Adieu, good Lumière. And Adam," Prince Christophe addressed his scowling youngest child, "listen to Lumière and try to learn to control your temper in the future, my son," he tapped the side of the carriage with his walking stick. "Onwards, Mr Potts."

Mr Potts tipped his brown tri-cornered hat at Prince Adam, a friendly smile across his broad, fair features, then flicked the reigns, the pretty horses snorted and tossed their manes as they set off along the cobbled street.

Capitaine Amable remounted his grey horse and trotted over to Lumière and the young Prince, "Do not worry, your Highness, Lumière will take good care of you," the handsome captain smiled, and Prince Adam smiled in return.

The dashing Capitaine Amable was just about the only person the young prince actually admired outside of his family, mostly because Amable taught Adam horsemanship and swordplay, and the capitaine would often tell the boy stories about his late father's bravery in battles fought in Iroquois and Algonquins.

Edgard jarred his horse and went cantering after the Gascogne's carriage. Adam watched silently as the party of his family moved down the avenue, his features slowly slipped back into their customary scowling, and the prince folded his arms.

Lumière rubbed his hands together, "Well then, young Master, let us set off," he said resolutely, turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction the carriage had departed in.

Adam pointed to the disappearing carriage, "Lumière, it is that way to the palace," the boy said loudly, stomping his foot.

Lumière stopped a few feet into his walk and looked back over his shoulder at the sulky Prince, "Oui, young Master, but this is another way, come," he smiled as the prince raised a cynical eyebrow. "Oh, come now Prince Adam, do you not trust me?" He half bowed and removed his hat, looking up at the red-haired boy and offering a wink of encouragement.

Adam rolled his large blue eyes and stomped over to the maître d', "Fine," he accepted, not seeing why everyone else was so charmed by the flamboyant servant, he found him annoying and, very oddly, almost always cheerful. "You are sure we will arrive at Tuileries by this route instead?"

"But of course, young Master. I lived in Paris until I was sixteen and entered your household service, what is it now…seventeen years? Yes, seventeen years ago. I know my way around." Lumière assured Adam as they began to walk along the avenue, the Prince tugged on his black hat and looked up at his family servant. "Yes, it is true, this is the nicest way to walk to Tuileries. The most beautiful parks and the most beautiful houses–"

Adam kicked the footpath in disinterest, "Bah, who cares about a lot of stupid trees and houses?" He commented rudely, the brown-haired maître d' raised his eyebrows but smiled benignly at the boy as they turned into the entrance to a park.

"Oh, but young Master, one must learn to appreciate the beauty in places he visits. Paris is a city unlike any other, it is a city of power, beauty and romance," as he said this, Lumière picked a rose from a bush and offered it to a simple peasant girl walking past them with a load of laundry. She giggled as she accepted the red flower, Lumière bowed and the girl inclined her head in response, holding the rose under her nose as she walked away.

Lumière looked back at the prince, who was wearing a revolted look all over his face.

"Brut, disgusting," Adam put his nose in the air and continued walking down the path, followed diligently by his companion. "Girls are nothing but trouble, except for Maman and Christine, and as for those silly maids you chase around the castle..."

My goodness, Lumière thought to himself, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as Adam continued to rant. For all Adam's hatred of books and learning he certainly speaks like someone at least twice his age, he doesn't miss a thing. "Now I'm quite sure I know not of what you talk of young Master, ah." Lumière interrupted and pointed over at a statue. "Very interesting, you do know who this is, don't you, your highness...?"

But the young prince had become distracted when he had looked across the path and saw a little girl, sitting alone on a stone bench beside a fountain. The girl's nose was stuck behind a red bound, worn book that looked remarkably thick for a girl of about six or seven, Adam guessed at her age as he approached the girl, who had her brown hair in a simple ponytail tied back with a white ribbon.

The girl caught Adam's gaze and stared at the well-dressed boy, before getting to her tiny feet to curtsey neatly, holding her book with her left, while holding the edges of her brown skirt and white apron with her right.

"Bonjour, Jeune Maître," the girl said politely and clearly. Adam studied the girl with a frown as she sat back down.

"Bonjour. What is a girl like you reading such a thick book?" The prince said curiously, usually, only noblewomen would have a full education, peasant girls might learn a little, mostly to read the Bible. The girl looked offended and went back to her book.

"Are you not going to answer me?" Adam demanded.

The girl's light brown eyes peered over the top of her book, "Young Master, a girl may read a 'thick' book if she pleases, just as I'm sure you do if you please," she said primly.

Adam snorted, he did not like this girl and her haughty manners, "I don't please. I hate books," he replied just as prudishly.

The girl pulled back up her book, "I like books, so I will sit here and read my book while I wait for my father, and you can go back to not reading your books. Adieu, Jeune Maître," the girl farewelled, waving her little white hand.

Adam looked furious and was about to take the little girl's book and throw it into the fountain, but Lumière appeared suddenly at his side and grabbed the prince's arm.

"Come along young Master, do not disturb the mademoiselle as she is reading," Lumière chastised his charge, the boy glared up at him as he was pulled away.

"But she was being rude to me," Adam said, pulling his arm away from the maître d', rubbing it with a rueful scowl as he looked back at the girl, who had lowered her book slightly to gaze over at the noble boy and his servant arguing.

Although it appeared pretty one-sided, as the tall man shook his head and folded his arms.

"As you were being to her. Mon Dieu! You must learn to be more gentle with the young ladies, young Master," Lumière smiled in amusement.

Adam scowled further as he noticed the girl watching the display and pointed over at her, "But she..." he snorted as the girl quickly pulled back up her book. "Fine. Come along, Lumière," the boy marched ahead down the path, Lumière faithfully trailing behind him, his hands clasped behind and resting in the small of his back.

The girl shook her head as she lowered her book, looking up at the oak tree that cast shadows in the sunlight across her pretty face. "Fancy not liking to read and being rich enough to afford any book he likes? It isn't fair. Boys." Young Belle Blanchard said to herself, turning a page in her book. "They can be perfectly beastly."

***

There was a general sense of foreboding that Lumière couldn't seem to shake off as he escorted Adam across the carved stone bridge that led towards the entrance of the Tuileries Palace, the maître d' brown eyes narrowed in worry as he gazed across at the young Prince Adam. The boy seemed to be also picking up on the same vibes, wearing a scowl even deeper than usual on his serious features.

Lumière's fears were confirmed when, as he and Adam approached the massive wrought iron gates, they saw a Musketeer conversing animatedly with two maréchaussée.

The Musketeer's expression turned into instant surprise and dismay, and he rushed back in through the gates. There was a loud sounding of trumpets, followed by the strident, rhythmic noise of pounding horseshoes on cobblestones, as a fleet of Musketeers went galloping past in a mad rush astride their chargers. Lumière pulled back Adam immediately, so he wouldn't be trampled in the fray.

As soon as the Musketeers had passed, the maître d' rushed over, (grabbing hold of the confused young prince's hand so to have him close by,) to where the maréchaussée were still standing beside their horses.

"Messieurs," Lumière addressed the two men, "I am the guardian of Prince Adam of Gascogne here. What has happened, pray tell?"

The taller of the two maréchaussée, with fair blond hair, rubbed his mouth in alarm, "Prince Adam of Gascogne? Mon Dieu, you'd had better take his highness inside. This news we bear is of the gravest matter Monsieur, you might wish his highness to be seated..."

Adam's eyes widened as he noticed Lumière's expression of panic as his family's tall servant clutched his hand to his chest, "What do you mean grave news? What has happened?" He demanded.

The smaller, dark-haired maréchaussé smiled sympathetically, his face full of pitying kindness for the small boy glaring at them with worry and confusion in his large blue eyes.

"Your Highness, please allow us to escort you inside," the maréchaussé motioned ahead of them and Adam, at a loss, looked up to Lumière for guidance. The solemn maître d' inclined his head and the young prince exhaled defeatedly, allowing the policemen to escort him inside.

Once inside the grounds, the maréchaussé walked them into the gardens and encouraged Prince Adam to sit down and whispered to Lumière to stay close to his young charge. Once the boy was seated on the stone bench, the tallest maréchaussée folded his arms in front of him and cleared his throat.

"Your Highness, there has been a most grievous occurrence," the man swallowed and cleared his throat again. "Your family's carriage was attacked and taken over by two masked bandits, armed with muskets and swords. According to the witnesses, they first attacked your Captain of the Guard, and he is wounded badly. The townsfolk alerted us, and we gave chase through the streets...but we lost sight of the carriage once we reached the city gates, and then we came here to alert the Musketeers..."

Adam's features remained expressionless, but Lumière –who had known his young master since the day Adam was born– knew that it was the prince's way when he was panicked, or deeply tormented inside, to outwardly appear emotionless.

"I see..."

The dark-haired maréchaussé interceded, "Do not worry, your highness, the Musketeers will soon bring news," he tried to reassure the boy prince. Adam just continued to stare straight ahead at nothing. The policeman put his hat back on his head. "Very well. Good day then, your highness."

The maréchaussée both bowed to Adam, then nodded politely to Lumière as they walked back down the garden path to the exit.

Prince Adam continued to stare ahead, and his servant wrung his hands in worry but forced a shaky smile for his young charge.

"Do not despair, your highness, there still is hope," Lumière comforted Adam, the boy continued to look straight ahead, and the maître d' rubbed the back of his neck before rushing over to kneel in front of the prince. "Please, Prince Adam, you must be strong, young Master."

To Lumière's great surprise, Adam let out a great choking sob and threw his arms around his family servant's neck, crying into the man's satin-covered shoulder furiously.

Lumière hesitantly put his right arm around the boy and patted his back gently, Adam shook his head as his body continued to rack with painful sobs.

"What will I do without them, Lumière? I'm too young to rule a kingdom alone! I want my Maman…I want my Père…I want Christine!" Adam howled, the kindly maître d' continued to hold the nine-year-old boy close, letting Adam cry until all tears were spent and the Queen of France, alerted by the guards, sent some of her ladies-in-waiting to attend to the boy and bring him to her chambers.

Lumière followed dutifully, his eyes red-rimmed with un-shed tears as he picked up and carried his young Master into the palace.

***

After entering the Queen's chambers, Lumière placed Adam down on a blue velvet couch, the boy was exhausted from crying and the ladies-in-waiting knelt on the floor beside the collapsed prince. The Queen herself entered the sitting room and sat beside her great-nephew on the couch, and wiped his tears with a lacy handkerchief, herself and her ladies speaking soothing words of comfort.

Lumière stood nearby, his hands clasped behind his back as two hours passed, and Adam had long ago fallen into a hiccupping mess and then a fitful sleep. The Queen left leaving two ladies behind, who sat patiently in nearby chairs with their embroidery.

The maître d' didn't shift from his post. He loved his Master and the entire Gascogne family deeply. It hurt to think of never seeing the Prince and Princess of Gascogne and their daughter again, leaving Adam alone. For underneath all the young Prince Adam's surliness and brooding, Lumière knew how sensitive Adam was and how much he adored his family.

At around nine o'clock in the evening, there came a loud hammering at the door, followed by two stern voices and a loud voice that overtook their pleadings. The ladies-in-waiting got up from their chairs and jumped behind the startled Lumière.

" Sir, please, the young prince must not be..."

"I must see His Highness Prince Adam at once!" The roaring voice was familiar to Lumière, and the maître d' rushed over to the doors and opened them. Peering out over the stubborn, Swiss guards' crossed halberds he saw the desperate, tanned face of Capitaine Amable.

The Capitaine's dark hair was loose and hung midway down his back. He was in a simple shirt that was untied and opened down his chest, Amable's left arm was in a sling and bandaged all the way up and across to his right, indicating a broken collarbone and most likely a musket shot wound.

Edgard looked back at Lumière with a stubborn, defiant look.

"Capitaine Amable. Please let him pass, men," Lumière ordered, the Swiss guards looked over their shoulders and inclined their heads, uncrossing their halberds and trying to ignore the glare the bearded Captain gave them.

Amable pushed Lumière aside and rushed to where the sleeping Prince Adam was reclining. It was then that Lumière noticed the tears rolling down Capitaine Edgard's face. The weeping man shook Adam awake before anyone in the room could stop him.

The still hazy from crying boy could barely focus on the tearful features of his family's Captain of the Guard, "Your Highness, I tried...I tried so hard to keep your parents and sweet Princess Christine safe from those men, even good Mr Potts was killed. I'm so sorry, please forgive me… in the name of your sister, whom I hold so dear." He grasped Adam's hands pleadingly.

The boy looked stunned at the ramblings of the upset Edgard, he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out and the young captain withdrew his hands and raised them to his face, weeping sadly.

Lumière had suspected flirting between Princess Christine and the Capitaine, but the heartbroken figure kneeling on the floor of the Queen's chambers suggested that it had been much more than innocent flirting and games. Poor Adam was distressed enough from the current events without this as well.

At that moment a Musketeer burst through the doors, his hat awry and he looked like he'd run thousands of miles to get to them right away. "Prince Adam," he gave a quick bow at the boy Prince. "Your Highness, we have recovered your father, but he is wounded very badly, and he is asking for you. Prince Christophe said for you to bring Monsieur Lumière with you."

Lumière helped the stony-faced Adam to his stocking-covered feet and helped him into his buckled shoes. The young Prince straightened his back, so he was at his full height and allowed the Musketeer to lead him out the door.

As he departed, Lumière grabbed his jacket, "Keep an eye on Capitaine Amable," he ordered the ladies-in-waiting as he walked out the door, wringing his hands in worry.

***

The first thing Adam saw was many white-capped wearing maids carrying large, ceramic pots of bandages covered in blood. They walked past the wide-eyed boy as swiftly as possible, but the damage had already been done, and the young prince felt faint.

Immediately Lumière put a hand on Adam's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Be brave, young Master," Lumière whispered, steering the red-haired boy towards the open door where the loud cries of pain and the muffled voices of the royal physicians could be heard, however, they almost all stopped as the young prince entered the room. A few physicians who were not busy tending to the wounded Prince of Gascogne, offered a polite nod of the head to Adam, before going back to murmuring amongst themselves, some taking notes and others cleaning metal medical instruments.

Lying prone on the white sheet-covered bed, letting out small moans of pain between louder cries, Adam could see a tall, fair-haired man writhing... it was his father. Surrounded by palace physicians desperately binding bandages around Christophe's bare chest, attempting to prevent the spilling blood from staining the sheets further and making the man comfortable, there were also a richly clad older priest and young priest intoning prayers at Christophe's right side.

Prince Adam swallowed hard and took a couple of hesitant steps forward, one of the main physicians tending to Christophe looked up and motioned to another physician to stand in for him, as he marched over to the small party who had just entered, his wrinkled features set in a grim line.

"It is good you are here now, your Highness. Another few minutes and it would have been too late. Come, Prince Adam, your father needs your strength in his last hours." The head physician encouraged kindly.

Frozen in place, all Adam could do was stare down at the head physician's hands, which were covered in blood, tracing his gaze upwards, he saw the richly dressed man's robes were splatted with more blood, and the young prince wanted to run away and hide somewhere out of fear.

But Adam had no time to act on these thoughts, Lumière knew that if the head physician said the end was near, then Christophe must say his last words to his only son. Quickly, the maître d' gently pushed the boy prince forward towards the bed, and kept close behind Adam, in case he was needed.

The priests stepped away as Adam arrived at the bedside and gazed down at his prone father with frightened eyes. There was blood everywhere soaking into the white sheets, and Christophe's fine silk shirt had been torn open to get to the most serious of the wounds on his torso. The Prince of Gascogne was breathing in hard and infrequent bursts, his brown eyes were lifted to the ceiling, and he was pale, beads of sweat rolled across his forehead and down to his neck.

"Père!" Adam cried out suddenly, grabbing Christophe's arm. "Père!" He began to shake his father's arm, rolling tears dampening his cheeks.

Christophe turned his head at the sound of his son's voice and almost smiled, lifting his hand to rest on the side of Adam's wet face.

"Shh, shh, my son," Christophe took a struggled breath in, then lowered his hand to grasp Adam's. "You are my heir. The Prince du Sang of Gascogne and its lands are—" he coughed, "are yours. It is my legacy to you and your heirs," Christophe looked over at his maître d'. "Lumière, good friend...the chevalière on my left hand. I have not the strength and it isn't right for my son— "

"My Master, say no more, conserve your strength, your highness," Lumière interceded gently, walking across and taking Christophe's left hand from the weeping Adam, he gently pulled the chevalière (signet ring) with the French coat of arms upon it, from Christophe's little finger.

Lumière took Adam's left hand and place the large ring on the boy's little finger. It was far too big for the young boy, but later he could place it on his index finger until it fitted his little finger.

The boy pulled his hand away from his family servant and grabbed his father's arm with a sob, "You can't die, Père, you're not allowed to. I won't let you..."

Christophe rested his hand on the top of his son's head, "Oh my child, my only son. I wanted to help you on your way to manhood, to teach you everything about ruling, but I have to leave you—" he breathed in hard.

"–I know not the fate of your mother and sister, but I pray if they have passed on, that they will be there to greet me in paradise," the dying prince brushed his hand across Adam's face. "I'll be waiting for you, Adam, when your own time comes. I want to see the good man—" he coughed, and blood trickled down his lip, Lumière took out his handkerchief and dabbed the blood away from his master's lips.

Christophe weakly nodded his thanks, then turned back to his son, "–the good man you will become and hear all about your life, your wife and your family, but you must be strong now and let me go—" he breathed in shakily, coughing hard this time the physicians rushed forward to steady him.

The Prince of Gascogne collapsed back on the bed and breathed in heavily, he grabbed his upset son's hand and squeezed it as tightly as he could, "I wanted more time...be good Adam, listen to Lumière and Cogsworth, they will help you...how I envy every moment of their future time with you..." He turned his eyes to look straight ahead. "Oh, Aurélie..." Christophe whispered so softly, then after a soft breath that was almost like a sigh, Christophe's hand went slack in his son's grasp and he passed away.

Adam shook his head, "No! No Père, come back," he began to weep and clutched his father's hand to his cheek. "Come back!" The young prince threw himself on his father's body, weeping and pounding Christophe's chest with his small fists. Lumière, eyes glassy with tears, stepped forward and pulled Adam away as the physicians gathered around.

The boy kicked and cried out in distress, lashing out with his hands and scratching Lumière's face in his blind anguish, "Let me go... Père... Père!" He screamed as the tearful maître d' carried him out of the room. Adam's eyes never left the sight of his deceased father, until one of the physicians shut the elaborate white doors after Lumière had carried the young prince out into the hallway.

Thank you for reading, the next chapter awaits.

Chapter Text

The droning of the church bell in the small village sounded more quietly than the huge bell of Notre Dame, but it intoned no less painfully as Prince Adam leaned out of the veiled, black carriage, following behind the casket-drawn funeral carriage bearing his father's coffin.

In Paris, where the funeral was held, Prince Adam had walked beside the coffin with his head down. The streets had been lined with people and the mourning party walking with him including his uncles and male cousins, his great-Uncle, the King, had ridden in a carriage with his Queen and several Princesses.

Adam had been invited by the King, after the funeral, for a ceremony at Château Versailles. It would be for his official investiture as Prince of Gascogne.

The ceremony itself, held three days after his father's funeral, was long, boring, and Adam remained emotionless throughout the entire event.

"It is to be expected," Cogsworth had commented later that night.

The majordome had arrived as quickly as possible when Lumière had sent the news, escorting the widowed Mrs Potts and the two youngest of her children, three-year-old Christopher, (Chip for short,) and the newborn Margaret. After Mr Potts had been buried in Paris, Chip had attached himself almost immediately to Adam, who, lost in his own grief, had no time for the younger boy named for his father and wouldn't speak harshly to him, but ignored Chip's prattling.

"But Cogsworth, he is now the Prince of Gascogne. He has duties, and so much to learn…Mon Dieu. Prince Christophe was away so often, he had no time to teach Prince Adam much," Lumière's worried voice replied.

Adam had been listening from his closed bedroom door, his ear pressed against the wooden door to eavesdrop on his servants...his servants. The boy wanted to hide his head miserably under the pillows of his bed, but he stayed listening in on the conversation between the head of his, (that misery-inducing word again,) household, his majordome, and his maître d'.

"It is up to us then. Mrs Potts has agreed to stay on as minder for Prince Adam, as well as head of the kitchens. I will oversee all of Prince Adam's studies. Politics, knowledge of agriculture, the general running of the dukedom and the chateau. As for you, Lumière, in addition to your regular tasks, will train Prince Adam in court protocol: manners, dance and so on. And see to it that his highness has anything else he desires, including further training in battle, swordsmanship and any travelling he wishes to do." Cogsworth informed his fellow servant, scribbling on parchment could be heard as he spoke.

Lumière sighed, "Mon Dieu, all this so fast. Prince Christophe not even in the mausoleum yet. If only Princess Aurélie and Princess Christine managed to escape, they would have helped guide Prince Adam, and Princess Aurélie could have been regent until his highness came of age. It is all lost." Adam heard Lumière's large feet pacing up and down the wooden floors.

"It has to be rebuilt again. I fear the power our young Master has been given is too much, we might overindulge the boy."

Cogsworth sighed, "Well we may, my good Lumière, with reason. He is a prince and he has been well indulged all his life. It is a privilege of the nobility, and something we must not waiver in our duty as his guardians and servants to misappropriate any of his wishes. We can nought but guide his decisions and suggest if there is a problem with them. I agree it is a lot of power for a child, but Prince Adam is no ordinary child." There was a slight note of pride in Cogsworth's tone.

"He is gifted and so quick—"

"I concur. But that vicious temper of his, he must learn to curb it," Lumière interrupted softly. "Perhaps that is something we must seek not to indulge. Mon Dieu, I love the boy so dearly, but I do not know how well we can raise him after all this tragedy..."

Adam scowled and turned his attention from looking outside the carriage to looking down at his black leather gloves. He was alone. All he had left of his family had no interest in him now and remained in Paris and Vienna.

But for his servants, Adam would have no company. In the carriage, Cogsworth was seated beside him, with Lumière on the majordome's other side, beside the window. Mrs Potts and her two youngest children, the newborn Margaret in her arms, sat on the opposite side of the carriage, with a miserable looking Capitaine Amable seated beside Chip, his arm still in its sling, and his face drawn and pale.

Mrs Angela Potts was a round, matronly woman. Her hair was prematurely grey and her kindly, stern mannerisms meant she was generally the only one of the Adam household would listen to, especially this past week. For, despite being widowed at the same time Adam had lost his family, Mrs Potts had quietly attended to Adam, talking to him and codling him into eating. Chip would merrily follow his mother, carrying his little sister in his arms.

Adam was slowly learning that indeed Lumière was right, he was in a position to have whatever he desired, and yet he would still never have the one thing he truly did want. His parents and his sister back from the dead, and the burdens of being a ruling prince gone from his too-small shoulders.

The small procession made their way along the cobbled streets and into the sunlit forests. The well-worn path provided smoother travelling, the horses clip-clopping hooves against the ground dimmed in sound and Cogsworth addressed his master.

"Sire, when we reach the castle it will be required of you to first attend the internment of your father's remains. Then you will need to have your things moved from the nursery to the master bedroom. Then, if your Highness permits, there are several inspections–."

Adam turned his head sharply and glared at Cogsworth, the moustached Englishman stumbled over his words under the intense blue gaze of the boy. Lumière placed a hand on Cogsworth's shoulder as their master's irate gaze didn't waver.

"Cogsworth, let his highness alone, all those duties can wait. Master, after you lay your father to rest, we shall take care of everything else," Lumière assured his Prince.

The boy narrowed his eyes and looked back out the window.

"Master Adam," Mrs Potts quick speaking voice addressed the prince. Adam rolled his blue eyes over to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Please sir, when someone suggests something you are not prepared to do, give them a verbal reply. It is good manners for a young gentleman."

"All right," Adam said suddenly, turning back around to look at Cogsworth's wide, plump and pale features.

"Monsieur Cogsworth, I do not want to do any of the duties of which you want me to do, but I expect I have to." the prince inclined his head and went back to staring out of the window.

Cogsworth exhaled in alarm and the majordome began prattling, "Thank you, your highness, I–"

Adam looked slightly over his shoulder, "Do not thank me, Cogsworth," he snapped in reply. "Just leave me alone." The boy leant his head on his hands and kept his gaze on the shining green foliage of the trees, the castle was not far away now.

But he had no wish to see Château d'Anges, it would be full of painful memories Adam would have to learn to bear for years to come, he wondered if it would ever feel like home again without his family.

The prince solemnly vowed to himself that he'd never let himself love or care about anyone so much again, it would only bring him more pain.

***

Two years later...

Gascogne, France, Château d'Anges 1780

There was a pounding knock on Adam's bedroom door, the ten-year-old boy opened one eye and pushed back his shoulder-length hair from his eyes, "What is it now?" He yelled out loudly.

Every day there seemed to be more and more to do which involved him having to wake up much earlier.

Schooling was getting harder and harder. There was so much more demanded on him outside of study as well. Duties like visiting the village mayors, (which was a loathsome task,) and hearing all the boring progress of the village. Talks with the farmers, (which at least involved some sort of food offering. Adam might have been haughty, but he loved food. Especially the baskets of blackberries and strawberries he'd consume most of on the carriage ride back to the castle, after which the castle chefs turned the remaining fruit into his favourite desserts.)

Last year during one of the visits with the farmers, Adam had been given a different gift, a puppy. A shaggy Basset Griffon who was overly affectionate and had a habit of sneaking in and sitting under Adam's school desk or in front of his fireplace chair. The Prince had little time for the creature he'd reluctantly given the name 'Sultan'. But Lumière had jokingly nicknamed the small dog 'Footstool' and it stuck.

The only upside with the dog was that little Chip was enthralled by him, and Sultan often served as a distraction from the boy following Adam around.

Adam still felt the loss of his family deeply, and the entire staff of the castle were dealing with their young Prince's emotional distance and angry outbursts as best they could. By spoiling him and catering to his every whim, they found that Adam could be placated for the given moment. Only Mrs Potts would occasionally refuse the prince something, but only very rarely, as Adam's temper as he grew older was even starting to frighten her.

"Master, Mrs Potts and I have brought you your breakfast."

It was Lumière.

Adam sat up and pushed back his hair, straightening out his bedclothes. "Well come in Lumière, I don't have all day!" He called out loudly, almost like a snarl. "No doubt I have another load of boring tasks ahead of me today," Adam muttered the last part to himself as the huge doors pushed open and Lumière strolled into the massive bedchamber, followed by Mrs Potts, wheeling in a silver meal tray.

"Bonjour, your highness. It is a beautiful morning, no?" Lumière chirped as Mrs Potts came to a halt beside the bed and he sided up next to her, clasping his hands together in front of himself with a wide smile.

Adam raised his eyebrows, "No," he replied swiftly. His maître d's smile didn't diminish, and Lumière bounced over to the windows and pulled open the velvet drapes. The stinging, bright sunlight was reflecting off the piles of snow, even this far up in the castle, and the prince winced.

"Oh see, it is a beautiful morning. It was only because you had the curtains drawn, no?"

"No! And Lumière you are getting on my nerves. Winter is not beautiful. It is cold, wet and full of miserable snow," Adam snapped in response, folding his arms over his chest with a snort. Lumière merely beamed in response and began to tie the thick, corded gold ropes to hold back the velvet drapes.

Mrs Potts laid the wooden tray across the Prince's lap and deposited the small silver serving dishes on top, she removed the lids. "Porridge, a fresh baguette with butter and jam and a nice pot of tea. It will warm you up Master, and make you feel a lot better in this weather," the rounded Englishwoman said mildly, pouring him a large cup of the aforementioned tea and depositing three lumps of sugar into the cup.

Adam accepted the finely patterned china teacup with a frown, "I doubt it very much. I'm only eleven and I have to deal with the most stupid tasks, even on Christmas Eve," he sipped the tea in disgust, reaching for the spoon to stir it.

Lumière wrung his hands, the expression on his face kind. "Ah, well your highness, perhaps I can suggest to Cogsworth that he deal with any of your tasks today, and you can be free to pursue anything you desire. I only humbly request that you attend some of your protocol lessons with me today," he waved his hands dramatically. "Just a little bit of dancing, if you please, your Highness?"

The tall boy picked at his bread with a bored shrug, "Fine. But no other tasks and can I request Mrs Potts daughter, Emily, instead of that silly Babette maid of yours, as a partner," Adam picked up his porridge spoon and pointed it at Lumière. "At least she is nearer my height and not a giggly ninny."

Lumière's smile only diminished a little under his rather large nose, his brown eyes twinkling at the thought of his lover's laughter whenever Adam would turn red whenever Babette's rather voluptuous chest brushed up against him.

Poor boy, Lumière thought. Babette is even too much for me sometimes. "Very well, I will ask Mademoiselle Emily, she is almost thirteen and very pretty, no?" He teased Adam, hoping to get some sort of reaction apart from the glare Adam was permanently wearing these days, but to no avail.

The finely sculpted features, (making him look more and more like his father every day,) turned and piercing blue eyes looked out with disdain from the high- cheek-boned face of the boy prince. "What should I care about a common kitchen girl or any girl for that matter? Go away the both of you. You are dismissed!" Adam barked, turning his gaze away and folding his arms.

Mrs Potts quickly turned the cart around and wheeled it out of the room, her plump features flushed with worry, and the maître d' bowed swiftly and muttered his farewell, shutting the large doors behind him as he departed as quickly as possible.

Adam went back to his breakfast. He had been very hungry lately, Mrs Potts had noted that from being small for his age, he had grown quite quickly in the past year to being tall for his age. "Growth spurts bring on great hunger in boys," the Englishwoman pointed out with a smile. "In a few years, you'll be towering over all of us."

The Prince of Gascogne didn't know quite what to do with himself. He'd always been quick and careful in his motions, but now his quickly growing limbs were making him clumsy. And now when Adam looked in the mirror, he could see in his reflection the resemblance to his father even more strongly. And his mother's bright blue eyes as well...it was a constant source of pain and a reminder of his ongoing feelings of loss. Adam hated growing older, as there was no one he could think of, except Lumière or Cogsworth, to talk to about his changing body to.

Lumière seemed the best option. Cogsworth would most likely bumble and stutter around the issue, but Lumière had always been more relaxed around him, treating him more like a little brother than a prince…not that Adam approved of that entirely.

But Lumière had been there at the moment of his father's passing. He had comforted him outside of those closed doors and stood beside him at the internment of his father. Yes, it was the best idea to discuss these things with him.

Adam finished up his meal and pushed the tray away. Pulling back the covers, he swung out his long legs and placed his bare feet down on the soft, dark-blue velvet carpet. Clad in his cream-coloured nightshirt, Adam padded across the room to the shut glass doors of the balcony.

The prince unlatched the doors and pushed them open. It was quite cold, but a very clear and bright day. Adam walked out onto the balcony and leaned his arms over the stone balustrade. The view from the West Wing master rooms were naturally the best in the castle, from there one could look across the castle grounds and out to the woods.

At the moment everything was covered in powdery snow. The grounds people were shovelling snow into wide banks to clear the pathways, wrapped in layers of clothing, they were talking and jostling one another. Adam never could quite understand the revelry of companionship. Only Mrs Potts eight children, (from the eldest at twelve to the youngest at three,) were the closest to him in age, and they were rosy-cheeked and boisterous. They'd lost their father, which had sent their mother's hair completely grey, and yet only a month after Jack Potts had died, they were back to running around making a nuisance.

While instead Adam still mourned his loss. Perhaps it was because it took his mother and sister also, even Capitaine Amable had left a year after the tragedy.

(In his never-ending heartbreak over Christine, the distraught Edgard asked Adam for his leave, in order to try and seek out the Princesses of Gascogne. As he adamantly swore that they were still alive.)

Prince Adam had no choice but to let the Captain of the guards go. Edgard's replacement, Capitaine André de Gaulle, was a nice enough man, but plain-spoken and stern, and would systematically teach Adam swordsmanship and battle tactics, with no side conversation or kind words.

Capitaine de Gaulle seemed, like the rest of the servants, to have a certain amount of fear or apprehension about correcting their prince.

Adam hated this in actuality. It made him so mad that he lashed out cruelly, mostly with words but sometimes with his fists (as one of the stable boys had discovered when he hadn't saddled the Prince's horse properly and Adam fell off when the girth unlatched.) Even Sultan had been yelled at once in anger, not that it stopped the little dog from happily trotting after Adam if he ever spotted him.

The hunting hounds previously belonging to Christophe were less devoted, and hunting parties, (with the groundsmen and the guards,) often ended with the dogs running off, then making their own way home, sometimes even the next day.

Capitaine de Gaulle suggested that perhaps Adam should spend more time in the kennels getting to know them. The boy Prince sharply, and promptly, replied that if the Captain could find him some time to spend the hounds in his busy schedule, then he would happily do so.

There was a creaking sound of one of the side doors opening, and Adam looked over his shoulder to see his valet de chambre, Michel, (a tall, dark bearded man who was quiet and diligent, and also a violinist with the castle chamber orchestra.) Adam marched from the balcony into his chambers and Michel bowed deeply, then walked over to shut the doors to the balcony before strolling back.

Adam sat down on the bed as his valet opened the wardrobe and took out a pair of neatly folded dark brown breeches, then a shirt and a light blue coat. Michel unfurled and laid the clothing down on the bed beside the Prince, he then went back to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of brown, knee-high boots.

Lately, Adam had demanded soft leather boots instead of the usual buckled shoes in his everyday dressing. Even for formal occasions, he had shining boots made, like he was a soldier, rather than a prince.

It had caused much interest last month when Adam had been invited to Versailles. The rarely seen orphaned Prince du Sang of Gascogne was a quiet, handsome boy that the ladies of the court had loved to have in their chambers to dote over. He'd been offered sweetmeats and trinkets by the dozen, and the young princesses, duchesses, and other noble ladies, all devotedly fought over dancing with him in the court.

Adam kept his temper in check the entire visit, to the accompanying Lumière's delight over his charge's perfect manners, despite the smile that never appeared on the boy's face, that all types of courtiers had constantly tried to make appear to no avail. (Lumière later commented to Cogsworth they were probably running a money bet amongst the court, to see who could do so.)

Queen Marie Antoinette had ordered a painting done of the Prince by the best of the court painters. Two copies had been made and one had been sent to Adam only days ago. The portrait was of Adam's head and shoulders as he was dressed in the finest blue and gold court military jacket. (It was at the Queen's request, she had said he was like a little general in his boots all the time.)

Most paintings were done to a romantic ideal and Adam looked much older in the painting. But the talented artist had captured the young prince's high cheekbones, serious expression and the painted Adam's eyes were a mirror image of the real boy prince's. Adam was rather embarrassed by the painting, thinking it was almost as bad as looking in the mirror every day.

The painting was hung above the fireplace in the West Wing's master chambers, Adam was too perturbed by it to have moved it anywhere else in the castle, the painting stared out across at him as the young prince mused about it.

Michel said something in his soft voice and Adam snapped his head to the side.

"What was that?"

The valet bowed his head, his face almost disappearing into his dark beard, "I am sorry, Master, I said that your bath has been drawn and Lumière will be by in about an hour to take you for your dancing practice," Michel mumbled a little louder, but not much more.

Adam nodded and got to his feet, Michel trailed after his prince as he headed for the bathroom door, it looked like another day of endless boredom and stupid servants.

Christmas celebrations indeed.

***

Lumière placed Adam's hand on Emily Potts lower back and adjusted the boy's left arm position, fixing up the Prince's grasp of the girl's hand. "No, no, your highness. You must hold the young mademoiselle's hand gently, but firmly. Keep your hand on her waist in the same way." He dictated gently and placed his hands on Adam's shoulders. "Back straight, not hunched over, and eyes on the young mademoiselle, not on your feet."

Adam lifted his blue eyes to stare expressionlessly at the shy, fair-haired kitchen girl dressed in a plain grey dress with a white apron. She was pretty in a plain way, similar to her mother, but very skinny. Emily smiled at him and the boy only nodded his head in response.

Lumière patted Emily's arm, "Just perfect, chère fille," he stepped back and walked across to the corner of the ballroom where Mrs Potts and Babette were seated. Mrs Potts was knitting, and the maid was holding the wool as they watched the two children. Michel had his violin at the ready and waited for the maître d to give his word, "Now, good Michel."

The erstwhile valet began to play Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Violin concerto no. 5 in A major. The French nobility were becoming a fan of the small German composer.

Adam had actually met Herr Mozart at a small gathering in Vienna, (one of his disinterested Aunts, Reichsgräfin Carina, who hadn't left Austria for his father's funeral, wanted to check up on Adam and invited him to her home. Once she was assured that there were enough servants in the castle to take care of him, she sent Adam back home after a couple of days with some heirlooms and would send him correspondence rarely, usually at Christmas and Easter.)

Only half a foot taller than Adam, and very thin and pale with a shock of blond hair, the well-dressed Mozart was very amusing and explained to Adam a little about music. But the brilliant nineteen-year-old composer had a curious kind of friendly mockery that the young Prince hadn't cared for.

Nevertheless, Wolfgang had found out that Adam was a prince and asked him both about patronage and if he was after a court composer. Adam had been mildly interested, he liked the short composer's magical music. But Mozart also mentioned that his father was pursuing opportunities for him in Salzburg, but he instead hoped to find somewhere in the Viennese court. Mozart asked for Adam to remember him and gave him his address in Vienna, stating that if he could find no opportunity, he would be delighted to attend the Gascogne court.

Adam was secretly glad that he would not have to commit to the composer. For all his good music Mozart was entirely too cheerful and would be yet another annoyance, as he would no doubt be bouncing around the chateau. The old court composer here was good enough.

Music was sometimes the only thing that cheered Adam up, provided it wasn't droning organ music. Sundays in the chapel were filled with enough of that, it almost always put him to sleep between the hymns and the slow, dull voice of the priest talking about paying penitence for your sins. Adam was a child still. What sort of sinning could he have done yet apart from losing his temper with the servants and punching a stupid stableboy?

Distracted in his thoughts, Adam stepped hard on the foot of Emily and the girl let out a small gasp. The almost silent sound nevertheless startled Adam, who then tripped over his own rather large booted feet on the polished ballroom floor and landed backwards onto his behind. The servants all rushed to his side, Michel placing down his violin and Mrs Potts and Babette tossing aside their knitting. Lumière put his arms under Adam's and hoisted the boy to his feet.

Adam shook off his maître d' hold and glared up at him, "No more. No more of these dance lessons."

"Oh but Master, you were doing so well till you lost your footing, you have a natural talent, just like your parents—" Lumière tried to reassure the prince, but the boy stomped his foot and Mrs Potts, Michel and Babette stepped back, prepared for the rant they knew was coming by the expression on their master's face.

"I am nothing like them! They were kind and graceful. I am violent and clumsy!" Adam shouted back with a scowl.

Mrs Pott's put her hand on her eldest daughter's shoulder and smiled at Adam knowingly. "Oh, but young Master you are still growing. All boys your age have clumsy spells, it's a normal part of growing up, and you will probably be as tall as your father wa—"

Adam shook his head, "I will have no more talk of my parents or my sister in my presence. They are dead!" He yelled. "I don't need to be reminded of them, or how I look like my father," he pointed towards the door. "Leave me now. Go finish your duties for whatever Christmas planning you are tasked with."

The servants all bowed, and Mrs Potts, Babette and Michel left to go gather their things with Emily sticking close to her mother. Lumière went to go help them, but Adam put his hand on Lumière's arm and looked up at him firmly.

"Lumière, you stay. I need to ask you something."

The tall maître d' blinked in surprise, "Oui, your highness," he managed to say, surprised at the serious but not angry manner Adam asked him to remain with him. Despite the prince's pre-pubescent voice, Lumière couldn't help but think how much he reminded him of Christophe.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Adam walked over to where Mrs Potts and Babette had been sitting before and sat down on one of the padded wooden chairs. Lumière held back a grin as he followed the young Prince and sat down opposite him when the boy motioned for him to do so. Mon Dieu, Lumière thought, his feet do not even reach the floor yet when he's seated and he still presents himself so grown up. Poor boy…

Adam cleared his throat and looked down at his folded arms, "Lumière, it is not easy for me to talk about certain things," he began, looking up at his servant with a frown. "I would have talked perhaps with my father if he would be here, but…well," the boy's blue eyes darted to the side. "I am getting older and there are certain things I no doubt need to be told about soon."

Lumière blinked, taken back for a moment as he worked out what the prince was talking about and nodded kindly, "Oh...oh, of course, your highness. Yes, there are certain things that are learnt as one becomes a man. Not only physical but of course the oiseaux et les abeilles, the birds and bees, side of things." He smiled and Adam got to his feet.

"Very well then. I wish for you to discuss these things with me tonight before bed," the prince waved his hand. "You may go, Lumière." Adam dismissed, walking across the ballroom quickly. Leaving the maître d' smiling sadly as he watched the boy march away.

"Prince Christophe be with your son, I fear he has grown cold in your absence, even before your death. Now I and the others must be left to fill your place as he grows," Lumière murmured, running his hand over his coiffed hair, and re-tying his hair ribbon which had become loose after rushing to Adam's side when he'd fallen.

"I don't know if we can save him from his own cold, unfeeling self. But, Bon Dieu, I will try."

***

The head groom jumped out of the way to avoid his prince, who had burst through the stall door astride his snorting, fine-headed Arabian mare Diamant. (She had been Princess Christine's sixteenth birthday gift. But the delicate, fiery horse had often been neglected in favour of a calmer palfrey. Her brother had then assumed ownership of what he deemed the most perfect horse in the stable.)

Adam didn't even glance over his shoulder as he leant forward in the saddle and nudged the small mare further. The grey-dappled Diamant snorted and revelled in being allowed her full, striding speed. More stable hands jumped away from their duties to avoid being trampled by the thundering horse hooves.

Some of Mrs Potts simply dressed children, (the five youngest, David, John, Joan, Christopher and Margaret,) playing outside of the stable in the fresh snow, looked on in wonder as Adam galloped past. Little Chip, wrapped up in a red woollen scarf, beamed at the sight of his beloved Master, whom he much admired. Even though Chip's older brothers, (including the eldest Gregory, who was now living in England and apprenticed to Mrs Pott's brother-in-law, a blacksmith,) scolded Chip behind closed doors for openly adoring their Master, saying Adam was cold, cruel and a bad egg.

Ignoring his servants, Adam rode Diamant down the garden path and out towards the grounds just outside the walled gardens, heading towards the mausoleum which was out near the black forest. He'd never understood why the castle was so far from the capital of Gascogne, Auch, or even from the much more fashionable Pau.

Instead, the Château d'Anges was in the Midi-Pyrenees near the tiny village of Tarbes. It inevitably involved a lot of travelling around the Gascogne region. When visiting the rest of the towns, Adam wasn't even allowed to ride in a carriage, for fear of a similar attack that had taken his parents. He, instead, rode Diamant in the middle of his guards' much larger and powerful brown and black steeds. The crowds barely ever saw the child Prince until he dismounted, and even then, they only caught a fleeting glimpse, as the Capitaine and three other guards flanked the solemn Adam on all sides, wherever he went.

Adam's paternal Grandfather, Louis the XV, had built the castle as a retreat from his own extravagant court. The nearby Château de Pau had once been used for that use also, recently Queen Marie Antoinette, (a close cousin of Adam's mother,) had taken over the charming castle with her followers.

Louis the XV gave ownership of Château d'Anges to his daughter when she had married at fourteen to the Prince Vincent of Gascogne. Louis' beloved eldest child died soon after the birth of Christophe, and Prince Vincent built an elaborate mausoleum for his young bride. Adam remembered his grandfather's facial features being very similar to Christophe's, but he was slender, and very often ill without the robust health Adam inherited from his father. Prince Vincent had died when Adam was six.

The young prince pondered all these things as he approached the gravesite, almost hidden in the grove of oak trees in the outlying field near the black forest. Dismounting and tying Diamant's reigns to an overhanging branch, Adam walked along the path and pushed open the well-oiled gate.

Taking off his black, tri-cornered hat, Adam surveyed the well-kept area. He rarely came to his family's mausoleum.

After Christophe had been entombed, Adam started to have nightmares about this place. He dreamed that from within the tomb, he could hear his father crying out to him and he'd rush to the wooden door of the mausoleum but couldn't open them to let Christophe out.

Adam pulled his dark purple cloak tighter about his shoulders, approaching the tomb slowly, crunching the frosty snow under his booted feet. The boy hesitantly reached out to the iron, circular handle of the mausoleum door and pushed.

The door swung open and the boy walked inside, it was still light so there was no need for a flaming torch, sunlight streamed in through the stained glass windows and illuminated the marble construction. Adam blinked and lowered his eyes as he walked past the few coffins in the tomb. His grandmother's, his grandfather's…two tiny coffins that belonged to Adam's twin sisters, Heloise Margaret and Frances Therese, who had been born nearly three years before him, and had both died of smallpox when Adam had been two.

Adam didn't remember anything about them. He did think it might have been nice to have had another two sisters, he'd loved Christine Marie very much.

Turning his attention towards the large, black coffin of his father, Adam traced his fingers across the gold lettering and floral designs, Christophe Louis Vincent Henri, Prince du Sang of Gascogne.

Adam, instead of kneeling and praying at the side of his father, began to pound the coffin in his unbridled anger.

"It's not fair! Do you hear me Père? You were never here, and then you die and leave me with all this responsibility. I hate everyone, including every one of those stupid servants you left me with. Listen to Cogsworth and Lumière you said? One sprouts constant tasks and other such work for me so I never can rest, and the other is always after silly maids and is impossibly cheerful. Mrs Potts is curt with me and her children are boisterous and loud!" Adam shouted, his blue eyes blazing, and his hair falling out from his ponytail and plastering against his sweating forehead.

"I get no peace and I am tired of it all. I loathe doing things for others when they do nothing for me in return!"

His small fists were red from the pounding he was giving the gold-handled coffin, Adam got to his feet and turned his back, "I hate you. If only you had put off whatever stupid business you had in Paris, Maman and Christine would still be alive..." the boy Prince pushed back down his hat. "...and so would you." Adam added the last part with a scowl as he marched up the stairs, pulling the wooden mausoleum door shut hard.

The loud sound startled Diamant, who lifted up her small head to look over at her approaching master, who was kicking at the snowdrifts in his cold anger and the mare snorted as the tall boy slammed the metal gate shut, shaking it for good measure.

Adam suddenly stopped mid-way towards Diamant and let out a loud yell, half of loneliness, half of an uncontrollable rage that was boiling up inside of him. The cry echoed around the small grove and out through to the black forest, startling ravens who rose up out of the trees. The large, black birds called out in fear from the noise as they flapped away across the darkening skies.

***

Waiting inside the stable as Adam returned on Diamant, were an absolutely relieved-looking Cogsworth and Capitaine de Gaulle, who was frowning under his dark, thin moustache in his usual manner. Lumière was inside one of the stalls, using a dandy brush on the face of Christophe's old black stallion Bacchus. Adam pulled a face as the head groom walked over to take the reins of Diamant and the prince dismounted.

"Your Highness, how could you be so foolish?" de Gaulle demanded. "You know you must be accompanied by myself, Cogsworth or Lumière when you leave the grounds. What if something happened to you out–?"

Adam's scowl deepened, "Nothing happened to me. You should not be so upset, and remember who the master is here," the boy interrupted with a low growl, glaring over at Lumière who had opened the gate and was stepping out of the stall. "Lumière, tomorrow morning I want you to find me a new Capitaine of the guard. I find Capitaine de Gaulle to be incompetent, as he knows not his place."

The maître d' blinked over at the shocked-looking de Gaulle and half bowed to Adam, "But Master, I am not head of your household, the task should be Cogsworth's since Capitaine Amable chose Capitaine de Gaulle. Perhaps you are being too hasty."

Adam looked over at his Majordomo, "Cogsworth is clearly not a good judge of character, it is now your task, Lumière," he took off his gloves as the men stood around silently. "Well then see to it,'' the prince snapped as he turned on his heel and marched out of the stable, not looking back.

Useless servants, Adam thought, untying his ponytail. They've trodden on my last nerve, so few of them can be tolerated.

***

Visiting Christine's room always comforted him. Sitting on Christine's bed, Adam remembered how he used to sneak into this room as a little child when he could not sleep, frightened of dreams of a huge, terrifying furred monster who pursued him across a vast, dark, empty space, from which he could see no door or other way of escaping.

Adam pulled his knees up to his chin and grabbed the purple, embroidered cushion on the bed and inhaled the soft perfume of rosewater and jasmine. Beautiful, sweet Christine. Not the giggly, high-curled wig-wearing damsel she was forced to play at parties and court functions. No, the darling young woman with her long, red hair falling out of a simple braid. The Christine with the soft, white arms that would hold him close, stroking his hair and speaking soft words of comfort in her low voice, telling him old stories and fables, that sounded so much better coming from her lips than his grizzly old tutors.

Adam made a face as the thought of his miserable old tutor, Monsieur Ennuyeux. At least he'd gotten out of lessons today with that droning, sour-faced, straw-haired nitwit, who seemed far more concerned with teaching Adam English, (Ennuyeux's native tongue,) so that he could stop teaching all the other lessons he had with him in French.

Horrid old creature.

There was a creaking sound as the bedroom door opened and the startled prince glared over at the tall, voluptuous, middle-aged woman who entered the room and curtsied deeply. "Forgive me, Master. I came in to do my daily keeping of Mademoiselle Christine's room," the former opera diva apologised with her head bowed.

Adam always thought it a wonder that her, high wigged, head didn't fall into the maid's huge, corseted cleavage when she lowered it, "It is alright, Madame de la Grande Bouche. I am leaving." He said stoically, getting to his feet and brushing past the wide, apron-covered skirts of the former maid and habilleur of his sister, who turned around and repeated her curtsy as he left.

Soon after the death of his family, Cogsworth had asked the young Prince if there was anyone he wished to dismiss that was no longer required. Adam had responded that no one was to leave. He took his father's valet Michel as his own, his mother's maids were to keep her rooms as if Aurélie was still alive, and the same went for Madame de la Grande Bouche for his sister's chamber.

After marching down the painting-covered walls of the East Wing, the prince walked down the stairs and encountered Chip, who was in the middle of the main foyer running around with Sultan. The little dog was barking merrily and chasing after the boy, his ears flopping with every bounce and joyful bark at the little, fair-haired boy's giggling.

Catching sight of his master, however, the little Basset Griffon let out a delighted yelp and barrelled over to Adam, closely followed by the exuberant Chip, who grinned widely up at the older boy as Sultan ran in circles around them. "Master Adam! Master Adam! Mama and the others have organised a huge feast in the Great Dining Hall," the son of the English head maid spread out his arms dramatically.

"Mama sent me to find you, but I couldn't, and then I found Footstool and we were—!"

Adam let out an annoyed snort and marched away from the boy towards the Grande Salle à Manger, in no mood for Chip's natural blabbering and bouncy mood. He moved quickly as he could hear Chip not too far behind, continuing in his story although Adam had long ago given up listening. However, true to the blond-haired child's word, the grand dining table was laden with food for both Adam alone this evening, and even some items for tomorrow when, (as the castle tradition dictated,) he would have Christmas dinner with his head servants.

All the servants curtsied or bowed as their dishevelled and angry-looking Prince finally arrived, unceremoniously, and without greeting, Adam thumped down in the grandly carved, huge chair at the head of the table. Chef Bouche himself (brother to Madame de la Grande,) his delicate moustached features proudly beaming, delicately laid down the first course, Soupe aux Chataignes.

As Adam ate the chestnut soup, all the servants but Mrs Potts, (with Chip sitting just behind her on a plain wooden stool, with Sultan curled up beside him,) Lumière and Cogsworth departed. As the Prince finished, Chef Bouche brought around each of the following courses exactly as soon as he was done, Foie gras de canard, sautéed with figs and onions, then Marinade de Poulets with a side of Pan-tourte de Spinage and creamy cheeses. For dessert, Chef Bouche gallantly brought to his Master a rich Gâteau à la Jacobine, made with Adam's favourite blackberry jam instead of currant, accompanied with delicate calissons and a small glass of sweet Armagnac brandy.

When he was done, Adam dabbed his mouth with the lace-edged napkin and inclined his head at the chef, but said nothing, and the long-suffering Bouche, accompanied by his lower Chefs and kitchen hands, bowed and disappeared back into the kitchen. Mrs Potts approached her former charge and curtsied.

"Would you like to adjourn to the Grand Hall, Master? The staff have decorated it from ceiling to floor with holly and ivy, and lit candles. It is very beautiful," she suggested, the Prince inclined his head and stood up.

"Very well. I will sit beside the fire, and I do not want your children to disturb me, especially that one," Adam pointed over at innocent-looking Chip, who looked quite upset and Cogsworth gently patted the boy on the shoulder.

Marching out of the room ahead of his servants, Adam's boot heals clicked quickly across the polished floor as he entered the vast hall where the rest of the staff were gathered, they all bowed deeply and called out: "Joyeux Noël, votre Hauteur! Merry Christmas, your highness!" In one voice, they applauded, and Adam ignored them. He looked around at the red ribboned wreaths and holly adorning every one of the walls, elaborately carved balustrades and tall white columns. Candelabras were lit and the huge fireplace was roaring with a merry fire, crackling at huge wooden logs arranged neatly.

Sitting on the large chair arranged beside the fire, Adam watched the servants gather around in small groups and relax, laughing and talking before midnight mass in the chapel, which everyone attended. The servant children, including Mrs Potts' brood, were rushing around with nougat and other sweetmeats, handing them around and singing.

"Trois anges sont venus ce soir, M'apporter de bien belles choses. L'un d'eux avait un encensoir, L'autre avait un bouquet de roses..." (Three angels came tonight, To bring me very beautiful things. One of them had a censer, another had a bouquet of roses …)

Mrs Potts was seated on a plush chair not very far away from Adam, little Chip had crawled up onto her lap, (her youngest child Margaret had been put to bed already.) The children bowed and curtsied to their Prince as they danced by, dressed in their church clothes and their faces rosy from the heat of the cheerful fire and the merriment of the season.

"Et le troisième avait en main, une robe toute fleurie, de perles, d'or et de jasmin comme en a Madame Marie..." (And the third had in hand, a very flowery robe of pearls, gold, and jasmine, like Madame Marie has...)

"Mama, will you tell me a story?" Chip's clear, chirpy voice inquired of his mother.

Mrs Potts stroked his hair and cuddled her youngest son close, "Of course my dear. What do you wish to hear?" Mrs Potts asked the cherub, who scratched his cheek thoughtfully.

"I wish to hear how the Master got his name! I know I got my name from good Prince Christophe, but Lumière told me that it is an interesting story about Master's name and you tell it well, please Mama?" The little boy was in earnest, and Mrs Potts looked anxiously over at Adam. The prince was looking out of the corner of his blue eyes but hadn't said anything yet.

"I... I expect I can my darling, it was a much different night to this one. It was early Spring, sunny and blue-skied and the blossoms were blooming in the apple orchard. Dear Princess Aurélie was walking amongst them with her three daughters and myself, heavily pregnant, she was radiant and almost outshone the sun itself. "Mon Dieu, Mrs Potts," she confided in me. "I feel so different with this baby, I am most certain it will be a boy this time." And almost as soon as the words had left her mouth, I had to catch Princess Aurélie before she stumbled onto the grassy ground because she was about to have her baby."

Mrs Potts looked over again at Adam, who had shut his eyes and was leaning back on his chair. "Well, I can tell you that we positively rushed back to the castle, an orchard is no place for a prince or princess to be born! And just as dawn was breaking the next day, a little boy was born and the proud Père –Prince Christophe, may he rest in peace– was brought in to hold his first-born son. He was so happy and so proud. A son to a future ruling monarch is a very important birth–"

There was a disbelieving snort from the scowling prince.

Mrs Potts knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but she found it cruel of Adam to act so cold to the memory of his father, who had loved him so very much. "Princess Aurélie whispered that she had a request, and she asked Prince Christophe if their son's name could be Adam–"

Chip blinked his large blue eyes, "But why, Mama?" He interrupted with surprise.

Mrs Potts kissed the top of her son's head and looked fondly over at the Prince, "Adam means man or created, and he was their first-born son. Prince Christophe thought it was a wonderful idea, and our good Master was christened Adam Vincent Alexandré Louis," she finished.

Chip blinked his eyes. "That's a lot of names, Mama," he leant over and whispered something in Mrs Potts' ear, Adam's keen hearing picked up most of the loud whispers, including: "...that why he's so grumpy all the time, he has to remember all those names..."

There was a clearing of the throat and Adam looked up to see Lumière standing beside his chair with Babette, "Master, I am loath to interrupt your sojourn before mass, but Babette says there is someone at the front door who wishes to speak with you."

Adam looked beyond annoyed, "A visitor? At this hour? How dare they disturb me. Tell them to be off at once and your silly maid should have done so in the first place," he snapped, shutting his eyes again. There was a whimpering sound from the usually perky maid, obviously fearing for her job, and Lumière tried again.

"Master," the maître d' implored, the Prince opened one eye to regard the large, brown eyes he'd seen all his life, there was concern in that gaze that angered the boy. "Please, have pity on the old madame. It is a cold blizzard outside and the madame is only dressed in a thin cloak. At least see what she wants, please?"

Silence had gone around the room, most of the servants gravely suspecting that Lumière had overstepped his bounds, and even if Prince Adam agreed to see the old woman, Lumière might be in the firing line.

Cogsworth in particular, (swallowing a large mouthful of calisson, then rushing across the room from his flirting in the corner of the hall with the elaborately clothed Madame de la Grande,) felt he had to jump in to try and soothe the situation. Even though his verbal (and sometimes physical,) battles with Lumière were legendary in the castle.

"Now, Lumière," the plump Englishman reprimanded in his overly concise French, clearing his throat as his fellow servant glared at him, (obviously ready to go into fisticuffs if Cogsworth said something he didn't agree with.) "Do not disturb the Master with such silly requests. Master, I will go and dismiss this intruder in your castle–"

Adam growled and jumped to his booted feet with a glare up at his majordome and maître d'. "Who is the Master here, you two crétins? If she wishes to be personally removed from my castle by myself, I can be that generous on Christmas Eve," he snapped, marching quickly across the large room.

The prince's hurried footsteps were followed by the quick-moving Lumière, Babette and Mrs Potts with Chip in her arms, and behind them, the slower, and only slightly more nervous, Cogsworth, plaintively pleading for Adam to wait just a moment.

Ignoring the pleas of his servants, Adam stomped across the foyer and reached the large wooden doors. Reaching up to the huge iron handles, the prince yanked open the doors and glared down at the unassuming, tiny figure, leaning on a crude wooden cane, who had already become a source of great anger for him even before he'd laid eyes upon her.

The thin, green hood lifted up slightly as the most hideous, aged visage that Prince Adam had ever laid eyes on, became more clearly visible as the old woman lifted her head to look up at him pleadingly. She had one good eye which was unusually clear and green in colour, while her bad eye was shut, distorted and jutted out from her heavily wrinkled brow.

Her entire face was a mismatch of worn and blemished elderly skin. The haggard old woman had a prominent hair lip on the top of her drooping mouth, a wart on the side of her hooked nose, and her hands were gnarled with age. She was clad in ratty green clothing that smelt vaguely of travel and scents of other things the fastidious boy didn't dare even contemplate.

"Please sir," the old woman's crackling voice was high-pitched and kind, but Adam still stepped back in the foyer, watched on by his nervous servants as he backed away from the elderly lady, fearful of her unpleasant features and angry at the same time.

The crone stepped over the threshold and reached out with her gnarled free hand as she hobbled after the prince, clutching her left hand on the top of her cane. "Kind sir, sweet prince, would you grant me shelter for the night from the bitter cold?" The old woman stopped and reached into her cloak with her right hand.

"I regret I have no money nor valuable possessions to offer, only this," the disfigured crone pulled out a thorny, long-stemmed red rose from inside her tattered clothing. It was in perfect bloom and immediately the servants realised something was strange.

Roses did not bloom in the dead of winter in France.

But Adam was disgusted and didn't think the same thoughts as his servants. Firstly, he could not stand such a hideous face as this old woman's, now she thought to offer him something as ridiculous as a single rose for shelter in his castle?

"Oh, is that so? Be gone you foul beggar and do not look into my mirrors on the way out, lest they crack in sight of the horror of your face!" Adam pointed out the open doors, through which the blustering winds were howling loudly outside and bringing in snow.

The ancient crone seemed quite serene as she moved closer and lifted up the rose, still clutched in her long finger-nailed hand. "My sweet prince, be not deceived by outward appearances, for it is true beauty that is found within," her voice seemed stronger and the others were growing nervous, for they had long heard common tales of what dwelt in the Black Forest.

But Adam sneered again and resolved that he would shove the old woman out the door forcefully, "I see. Well, Madame Grotesque, you can take your silly sentiments and go find true beauty under someone else's roof, not mine. Begone from my castle and my grounds at once!" He moved to grab the old woman's arm, but Adam was thrown back by an unseen force.

As he was flung across the foyer, the old woman's ugliness melted away and in a burst of sparking, blinding white light, in her place stood a beautiful woman. The most beautiful woman anyone in the room had ever seen.

Taller than Lumière, the strange woman had long, golden waves of hair that cascaded down her back. The lady's towering form was clad in a gown of the most beautiful fabric of spun gold and green, with an elongated crown, with many points, upon her head, and a sparkling wand clutched in her hand.

The strange woman's huge eyes were full of a deathly-white glow, and her voice was low, echoing and sweet, with a disappointment in her tone that chilled Adam to his very core.

The rose was clearly also a magical device, it glowed and hovered beside the magical woman.

"I am an Enchantress. I have been watching you a long time Prince Adam, and I have clearly seen this day that there is no love in your heart. You are fair in appearance, but your soul is beastly, so I curse you to become that which you are inside outside also: a beast," the Enchantress lifted her wand, and the Prince fell to his knees and clasped his hands in front of him.

"No, please, I didn't know, virtuous lady," the boy begged, weeping openly and clutching at the fine fabric of the Enchantress's skirts. The servants had backed away in fear and Mrs Potts was holding her son tightly, her hand resting on the back of his head.

The Enchantress raised her fair eyebrows in sympathy for the pitiful creature at her heels, but she shook her head solemnly. "I am sorry young prince, that is not the way of things. It is too late. You scorned that which you should have had the most love and pity for, a person in need. You feel nothing of love, so you must pay the price and learn your lesson," the magical being raised her wand again and placed the end just above Adam's bowed head.

The first thing the boy prince felt was burning, like he was on fire, and he cried out in pain and fell back, feeling like thousands of arms were grabbing at him, twisting and pulling at his limbs. As this sensation was going on a less painful, but still prickling experience was also occurring along his skin, crawling like tiny ants.

Looking down in horror at his hands, Adam saw thick, tawny hairs growing all over his limbs. He felt his entire body swelling and twisting, tearing apart his fine clothing and leaving nothing but shreds as his form changed. His chest became so broad it burst across the front of his shirt and the back of his shirt tore when –with a shriek from the boy– his back became curved and grew out a mighty hunch like that of a bear and yet still more fur was growing.

Adam looked down as he saw his boots had burst along the seams and his feet had become clawed, like those of a wolf. His legs were as swollen as his arms and slowly, in bursts of pain, his hands twisted into mighty paws with sharp, retractable claws. Adam lifted the aforementioned paws to his face as he felt his jaw and entire face elongate, his jaw jutted out and he traced the flat, wet animal olfactory organ in place of his previously straight nose.

In a final stabbing feeling, Adam felt his two lower canines enlarge and become pointed, sitting just on top of his upper lip. He cried out and huddled into a ball with a loud snarling growl, like that of a wild animal that had been stabbed.

The Enchantress stood in front of the prince, blocking the way as Cogsworth and Lumière went to rush to their transformed Master's side, "And as for you and all the rest of the household servants within the castle grounds, you will not be spared my wraith. This boy was left in your care and you continued to spoil him and let him have his way. I shall be kinder in this enchantment, you will become objects resembling those that you use in your stations." Again, the Enchantress raised her sparkling wand and waved it.

Adam had his paws to his eyes, but upon hearing his servants cries, shut his eyes tightly and jammed his huge paws over where his ears had once been, but finding them not there patted the top of his head, pulling back as he felt the two curved horns, but eventually finding his transformed ears and tried to cover them. But before he could block out the sounds of his servants' cries, Adam felt a pair of hands around his wrists and he snapped open his eyes to hazily gaze up at the glowing Enchantress.

"To your feet, Prince Adam, I have things to tell you about the manner of this curse. I suspect you would like to know how it may be broken?"

She hoisted the boy-beast to his feet and Adam stood shakily upon his new clawed feet, looking around in horror for his servants, "Lumière? Cogsworth? Mrs Potts?" His growling voice still contained a trace of his pre-pubescent tone, but the snarling sound frightened him. He felt a tug on his pant leg. Looking down he saw a golden, tri-candelabra with a face carved from the wax that looked painfully familiar.

"Lumière?"

"Oui, I am so sorry Master, we failed you," the voice was just the same. Waddling to the side of Lumière was a wooden mantel clock, who was gazing up at Adam in semi-horror. "Cogsworth my poor friend, it is the Master!" He waved his right candlestick in front of Cogsworth's face to try and stop the round-faced clock, (his moustache replaced with a first and second hand,) from staring blankly.

But the poor majordome's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fainted. Lumière bent over to try to bring him too, accidentally lighting up his candlesticks, which made him stare in horror at his self-combustion and study what had become of his hands. A wailing sound that sounded like Babette caused Lumière to follow the sound, hopping along on his base to the other side of the foyer and delicately picking up a feather duster in his metal arms.

"Ma cherie..."

"Oh Lumière, mon amour..."

Adam saw a rounded white teapot nuzzling and talking comfortingly to a small teacup. "Mrs Potts, Chip…" he murmured, the Enchantress waved her hands and she looked around.

"Gather you all hear and listen," she ordered, they all assembled around Adam. Chip was looking up in awe at his hulking Master while everyone else had their eyes lifted to the tall Enchantress. The magical being grabbed the floating rose out of the air with her right hand and held it up.

"This is an enchanted rose, it will bloom until your Master's twenty-first year. If he can learn to love another and earn their love in return, before the last petal falls, he will return to his human form, as will you all. If Prince Adam fails to do so, he will be doomed to remain a beast forever, and you all will be trapped as objects." The Enchantress appropriated a large glass dome and a walking table from thin air, she then placed the hovering, glowing rose above the tabletop and put the glass dome over it. "Take it to the prince's chambers in the West Wing," the Enchantress ordered.

The table bowed its wooden legs and rushed away up towards the stairs.

The fair-haired enchantress regarded them all gravely, "In the pity I have had for you servants, you will not age. If the spell is broken, you will be the same as you were before. I will not rob you of the time spent as objects, as opposed to your master's time spent as a beast. You must also know this, Prince Adam," she folded her hands into her long, bell-shaped sleeves.

"The spell works thusly: If anyone, man, woman, girl or boy comes to this castle, and you show them hospitality and kindness, before your seventeenth year, and they return your kindness, the spell will break. However…"

The Enchantress twirled her wand in her hands thoughtfully.

"However, if you do not encounter anyone during that time, after your seventeenth birthday only earning the bonding, true love of a woman will break the spell," she said firmly, again waving her wand, the Enchantress created a crystal mirror and showed it to Adam.

"This I also leave you, young prince. This enchanted mirror will show you anywhere in the world you wish to see. Look well upon whatever you seek to see in its glass, for it is a world you can no longer be a part of till the spell is broken. I will send it to the table your rose is upon." She snapped her fingers and the mirror vanished into thin air.

The Enchantress looked over Prince Adam, who had his head slumped down sadly as he looked over his fur cover form, with a sigh. "I pray that you will become a good person one day," she touched him gently on the arm. Then with a loud, echoing boom and a final flash of light, the Enchantress was gone, and a mighty gust of wind from the open doors blew out all the carefully lit candelabras.

Adam covered his face and turned towards the staircase, rushing up the stairs. His new clumsy feet tripped him up halfway up the bottom stairs. The boy-beast struggled his mighty bulk back to his feet and continued his run towards the West Wing.

This is not happening! Adam thought in panic, his heart thumping in his chest as he knocked over vases and the tables they were perched on in his harried state of getting to his chambers. This is not happening, it is all a dream! Just like the dreams I had when I was younger...yes, that's all it is. I will lay down on my bed and this will all be gone in the morning.

He pulled open the doors of the Master bedchamber and slammed them hard behind him, only sparing a passing glance at the glowing rose and shimmering mirror out near the balcony, but upon moving closer to the objects, Adam realised it did all feel so very real. The rose was glowing brighter than anything he'd ever seen.

Glancing over at that horrid portrait of himself…his face...no longer his face? Adam didn't know.

Reaching over with his sharp claws, he slashed the delicately detailed painting, tearing at the canvas and leaving only shredded remains...like what remained of himself…

Adam ran his clawed paws over his face and growled, the sound causing a rumbling in his throat. What if this wasn't a dream? Leaning back his head the boy-beast let out a terrifying loud, pained roar, coupled with fear and loneliness.

Learn to love this hideous form he could be trapped in?

Who could ever learn to love what he was...a Beast.

Thank you for reading, the next chapter will be posted soon.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Gascogne, France, Château d'démons ,1789

Lumière polished the mirror in the foyer to a gleaming sheen...well, rather the area in front of his handsome...well, handsomely carved wax features. Beaming into the mirror, Lumière wiped a drop of melting wax into a debonair, coif style and looked over at where he had been successfully ignoring Cogsworth, (who was pacing up and down beside him,) and his blabbering.

Shaking his flaming head, the maître d' reluctantly turned around from his preening to take notice of the mantle-clock marching across the hall table they were currently atop of, who was once again in one of his rants about the Master.

"...and I really do think that it is time for us to confront the Master about..."

"Confront me about what?" A growling baritone interrupted, and a dark shadow loomed over both of them.

Looking up Cogsworth attempted to smile up at the half-snarling features of the Beast, whose intense blue gaze seemed to be becoming more and more red-rimmed like an uncontrollable, wild animal every moment the majordome looked into them.

"Oh, ah...yes...yes Master there is something, Lumière," Cogsworth grabbed his fellow servant's arm and pushed the narrow-eyed candelabra forward. "And I, wish to discuss with you..."

Lumière folded his arms with a shrug, "What are you bringing me into this for? I believe it was you, Cogsworth, who was the one who wished to address the Master about something," he stepped back and shoved Cogsworth forward. The Beast eyed them both dangerously and the mantle-clock began to shiver.

"Ah...oh no, no, you most definitely needed to say something to the Master," the majordome began tugging on Lumière's arm, and the maître d' pulled back and promptly burnt Cogsworth's grasping hand. The mantle-clock yelped and began blowing on his hand.

"Ouch! That hurt you flaming imbecile!"

There was an annoyed grunt from their Master, "As amusing as you two are, I have to go hunt. I'll deal with the both of you when I return," Beast snarled and marched away, the threat lingering in the air as the servants watched their Master lop away on all fours.

Lumière folded his arms and looked out of the corner of his eyes, "Nice going, Big Ben," he sarcastically addressed Cogsworth, who was wiping his forehead in relief, for the moment.

"Well, you certainly didn't help! Out hunting again...and did you notice he's rushing about on all fours more often now? And this angry, exhausted manner of addressing everyone, sometimes I don't know what he needs any more..."

There was a raised brow from Lumière, "I think I know what he needs, the love of a good woman," he pointed out. "He is nearly twenty-one, after all. And on top of all that, this curse is starting to eat him from the inside. You've seen it yourself in his eyes, haven't you? Don't they appear a little redder, rather than blue, lately?"

Cogsworth nodded, "You're probably right my friend. But don't put it so bluntly to the Master if you raise the subject! All you French think about is food and making love—"

"Ha! The Master is fully French, at least on his father's side. And as for his mother being half-Austrian, the Austrians are much like us. There is none of your English prudery in his highness at all," Lumière huffed.

Cogsworth folded his arms and turned aside. "Well, if you weren't so wrapped up in the honour of your silly Babette, you never would have begged the Master to do what should have been her job that night of the curse—"

The candelabra turned on him with an outraged growl, "You are blaming my Babette on this? The Enchantress had been watching the Master a long time, she would have found some way to place this curse upon him," he pointed out.

Cogsworth reluctantly nodded in agreement with his fellow servant with a sigh. "I am sincerely tired of you being right, but you are right, I apologise," he grudgingly conceded.

Lumière inclined his head and went back to his preening in the mirror, looking over his features he looked down at his candlestick hands. "Cogsworth, do you still remember what it is like to have hands? Sometimes I feel like I'm forgetting."

"Well, I currently have four, if you include what I'm left for grasping with and the two on my face," the majordome tried to lighten the mood, as he folded his grasping appendages behind his back.

Lumière chuckled a little. "I'd quite forgotten you had a sense of humour, mon ami. A dry one, but a sense of humour nevertheless, no?"

Cogsworth nodded his head and closed his eyes, "Oui, my good Lumière. Perhaps it is due to my waning optimism about this situation. Ten years is a long time."

***

Beast crouched down low, his ears flat against his head. His right front paw raised in anticipation as he stopped mid-way in his stalking, hiding deep within the bushes and brambles, his eyes locked forward on the small doe, grazing peacefully on the late-autumn grass in the open glen. At the sight, the enchanted prince's fur tingled with anticipation.

Both his paws now in the undergrowth, he tapped his claws against the ground, eager to make short work of his prey. Beast's eyes became half-lidded in his focus, and his breathing came in short bursts.

He could almost hear the pulse of the flighty deer as she nipped at the brown grass.

Lowering himself further to the ground, Beast prepared to spring out and conquer his prey, but as he rose he saw the doe had raised her head, her large ears up and her small, black nose twitching as she caught his scent. Beast thought he'd try for the spindly creature at any rate and lunged out from his hiding.

The deer leapt into the air and narrowly avoided the huge, furry arm waiting to knock her to the ground and break her neck. She bounded out of the glen and into the thicket.

Beast let out a frustrated roar and pounded the ground, flinging his cloak behind him and glaring about the empty glen. It was getting dark and the rain was already beginning to pour down. Beast ran his hand over his head and stomped his foot. He supposed he'd just have to eat whatever pretty, unappetizing food Chef Bouche had yet again cooked in an effort, (probably on behalf of Mrs Potts,) to stop him hunting.

The truth was, Beast hated hunting. However, it was the only way to calm his lust for blood and appetite for large amounts of raw flesh.

He remembered the first time he'd tried it, just a little pigeon. Harmless act, really. But the taste of fresh blood and the rush from the motion of killing the creature had soothed the enchanted prince's anguished thoughts for a moment.

Making his way back out of the woods and heading towards his balcony, Beast climbed up the side of the castle and swung himself onto the balcony, turning to gaze over his massive shoulder at the lightning crashing down over the mountains, and the loud sound of rolling thunder that followed pounded his sensitive ears.

Beast growled in annoyance.

It was as if the weather had been matching itself to his mood lately.

Marching through his chambers, Beast pushed open the doors and stomped on all fours down the hallway, as usual keeping his eyes ahead so they would not linger on the portraits of his ancestors staring down at him with, (as Beast sometimes imagined,) dismay or pity. Neither of which he wanted to be judged with by long-dead relations.

As Beast approached the main staircase of the foyer, he could hear talking...rather, shouting, from what sounded like Cogsworth admonishing the polished, welcoming voice of Lumière.

Peering around a large pillar, Beast's eyes widened in anger as he saw Lumière's glowing form hopping through to the hallway (that led to the sitting room,) leading a rounded, old man in a green cloak.

Cogsworth lunged and grabbed ahold of the bottom of the old man's cloak.

"...no, no! You know what the Master will do if he finds him here!" The majordome at least was trying to put a stop to this outrage.

But, as usual, he can assert no authority whatsoever, Beast thought with a scowl as he moved quickly down the stairs. How dare Lumière undermine me and let a stranger into my castle? It is not even a girl, but an old peasant!

All memory of the original appearance of the Enchantress seemed to leave Beast at that moment, as he marched across the velvet carpet and into the door frame, stomping down the short distance to the sitting room. He pushed the doors open and they slammed hard against the wall, letting in the harsh breeze coming from an open window behind Beast, and blowing out the candles and lighted fireplace.

Peering inside Beast could see all his head servants, (even Michel,) standing around his chair beside the fireplace. They all began to shake with fear and Cogsworth dove underneath the carpet. Chip jumped behind his mother, whose teeth were chattering, and Lumière, (Filthy betrayer, Beast snarled to himself,) was holding up his candlestick hands in front of his face.

Beast slowly descended down the marble stairs on all fours, growling in his fury at his servants undermining him yet again, his shadow loomed over the room as he whipped his head around. "There's a stranger here..."

"Master," Lumière had the audacity to address him after leading a trespasser to Beast's private den and placing him in his master's chair, Beast turned his eyes to the candelabra who began gesturing with his hands. "Allow me to explain, the gentleman was lost in the woods, he was cold and wet so—"

"Rwaaaaaaaaarrrr!" Beast roared harder than he had ever snarled at Lumière before. The force of the roar blew out Lumière's flames as the candelabra cringed, holding his arms over his head dejectedly.

"Master," the soft, prissy voice of Cogsworth came from the direction of the corner of the carpet he had dived under previously, Beast rolled his eyes to the side. "I would just like to take this opportunity to say... I was against this from the start!" Cogsworth pointed at the cringing Lumière.

"It was all his fault, I tried to stop them, but would they listen to me? No, no—"

"Rwaaaaaaaaarrrr!" Beast roared in Cogsworth's direction. The majordome dived back under the carpet. The Master snorted and walked the short distance to peer around his high-backed, floral sitting chair, glaring down at the frightened old man who was whimpering, and staring back at him with enlarged green eyes as he shook with terror.

It was the first human Beast had laid eyes on in ten years, and yet it was not a woman who could break his spell. Anger boiled up twice as hard within him and the Beast moved forward, all but pushing the old man from the chair, who had to dive out of the way.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?!"

The balding old peasant looked around in fear, "I...I... I was lost in the woods and—"

"You're not welcome here!" Beast snarled in response, cutting off the old man's stammering.

"I... I'm sorry..."

The old man's gaze was still transfixed upon Beast's frightening visage and the Master grew angry at the staring, "What are you staring at?" He demanded. The servants were used to his appearance, but a stranger staring at him the way the old man did, brought back all those wretched moments spent gazing into mirrors with horror when Beast had first transformed.

The old man stepped back from the almost seven-foot-tall beast, "N... nothing..."

"So, you've come to stare at the Beast, have you?" The Master snapped only inches from the old man's sweating features. Hapless peasant, someone must have escaped and told the villagers about me…

The stranger tried to rush away, but Beast's cloak whipped about and cornered him again with his amazing speed, before towering to his full, imposing height.

"Please, I meant no harm! I just needed a place to stay," the stranger's mouth bumbled fearful excuses from under the bushy moustache, but the Beast had no empathy for the elderly man. Excuses and pleading are for the weak!

How often had Beast pleaded to the Enchantress? The heavens above...even to my long-dead father for retribution? Pity? An end to my suffering? To the tower with this snivelling old peasant and good riddance.

"I'll give you a place to stay," Beast snarled, lifting the trespasser off the ground with one mighty paw and dragging him out of the den, slamming the door shut behind him as he galloped towards the long stairwell that led to the highest tower of the castle, to the highest room where the dungeons were kept.

The old man kept pleading as they started to ascend the many stone stairs. It was gradually getting colder and Beast shivered slightly, the cold air even penetrating his thick coat. "Will you be quiet?" Beast roared at the pleading man. "I cannot understand a blasted thing you're blabbering, peasant!"

"Oh please, good sir, I have a daughter. She will be left all alone in the world. Her mother died giving her life, and we have no close relations living. I beg you to let me return to her," the old man was surprisingly well-spoken when he wanted to be.

Beast stopped mid-way up the stairs and lifted the old man to his eye level. "Everyone eventually ends up alone in the end. She will just have to find some way of surviving…or die," he said simply. "Now, stop your whining or I will throw you back down the stairs headfirst, understand?" The enchanted Prince roared out the last command and the peasant lowered his head in submission.

"Yes, sir."

The Master growled low in his throat and continued his march up the stairs, finally arriving at the entrance to the dungeon. He pulled open the long disused room, smelling of old straw and rats, and threw the old peasant into the dungeon, slamming the door behind him hard and locking it tightly. Beast turned on his heel and went rushing back down the stairs, he was going to have a war of words with his disobedient servant.

***

There was a loud thumping sound gradually getting closer to the sitting room that the innocent traveller had been led to and Lumière, Mrs Potts and Cogsworth, along with other members of staff, gathered around to provide strength in greater numbers, stood to attention.

Mrs Potts had sent Chip back to the kitchen on the trolley and stood firmly beside her fellow head servants capable of movement.

The door flung open and their Master scowled deeply as he descended down the stairs. "I want an explanation of your behaviour, Lumière, and I want it now. The rest of you are dismissed. I will address Lumière alone."

Cogsworth cleared his throat as he placed his right grasping hand on Lumière's shoulder. "Master, I am just as much to blame as–"

The Beast snarled as he interrupted, "Cogsworth, I saw you trying to stop the peasant. Mrs Potts was not there, nor was Michel. It is Lumière whom I want an explanation from. Get out the rest of you, before I throw you out in a million pieces," he snapped.

Lumière lowered his gaze, "Please, all of you, thank you for your support. I will answer to the Master in private." He informed them calmly. This has been a long time coming...

The other servants murmured words of comfort to the candelabra, before exiting post-haste and shutting the door behind them.

Lumière stood in the middle of the room and Beast encircled him, slowly raising his gaze the man-turned-candelabra breathed out slowly. "May I speak, your highness?" The maître d' spoke up after a moment of the silence and glaring of his Master.

"You may," Beast agreed, stalking over to his chair and sitting down, folding his arms stubbornly. "Better make whatever excuse you have a good one."

Lumière paused and cleared his throat, "It has been ten years since anyone approached this castle. We have been loyal to you for many years before then. We have sound judgement in matters applying to what is best and—"

Beast dug his claws into the upholstery of the armrests of his chair, "Get to the point, Lumière."

"Did you stop to think perhaps that man had a daughter or could bring a young girl from the village here?" Lumière suddenly burst out with narrowed eyes. "You do not stop and think of that because you are incapable of controlling your temper. And it is that arrogance and holier-than-thou attitude that got us cursed in the first place. And that is fault that falls upon us, your servants assigned to your raising until you came of age, because of our inability to curb it the same way your mother could, and not helping you to properly deal with your anger and grief at your parents and sister's deaths." He placed his candle-stick hands together.

"Do you want this curse to break like the rest of us do? Or, are you already so far gone you do not wish to be human again?"

Beast's jaw dropped, shock from the unexpected boldness of Lumière's speech had flung him into a stupor. "I—I...you are dismissed, Lumière. Do not do this again, leave me in peace," he said softly, the maître d' opened his mouth to continue, but Beast lifted his paw.

"Speak again to me in the manner you did before, and I'll throw you on the fire. Out. Now."

As Lumière, with some relief and feeling cautious hope at his former charge's contemplative expression following their talk, departed silently, closing the door behind him.

Beast crawled off the chair and curled up in front of the fire, and rested his head between his paws. His blue eyes closed, and he tried to shut out the previous conversation.

Of course he was right but blast it all...this is my castle!

Perhaps in the morning, Beast could discover if the peasant could be proved useful as Lumière mentioned.

***

Beast didn't know how long he'd been asleep, he hadn't been sleeping well these past months and had often gone days without sleep. He looked over at the fire, which was still roaring, but the view from the window showed the sky in dark overcast, nearing towards evening...had he slept the entire day away?

His stomach growled dangerously, and Beast rubbed his bare stomach ruefully. It would seem he had overslept, and the servants had left him to do so, only stoking the fire to keep him comfortable. It was too dark to hunt, and Beast hadn't eaten since early morning yesterday.

Getting to his feet and stretching, he shook his fur out and left the sitting room to move towards the direction of the kitchen.

Arriving at the door, he pushed it open to find only Chef Bouche and his serving staff. Even though there was a tub full of soap, Mrs Potts was nowhere to be seen, probably scouring the castle for her youngest son.

"Ah, bonjour, Master. What do you require?" The stove questioned brightly. "I can whip you up anything you—"

Beast shook his head, "Just get your serving staff to bring me whatever has been freshly killed and take it up to my room," he ordered.

The Chef nodded sadly and motioned to his staff. "Fetch the finely sliced boeuf for his highness. I was going to turn it into a culinary masterpiece your Highness would have adored! At least let me make you your favourite, Gâteau à la Jacobine..."

Beast waved his paw, "I do not crave sweets anymore, Chef Bouche. Just the meat and be quick about it!" He barked, the serving staff squealed a little and went rushing to bring in the meat from the cool room. They offered out the tray of food for their master's inspection.

"Very well, bring it to my chambers."

***

Beast chewed the last of the sliced beef and tossed away the silver tray. He gulped down the jug of water and got up from his crouched position. He was quite full and felt like a march around the castle grounds to stretch his legs. Walking out of his chambers, Beast stopped mid-stride when he heard a voice.

"Papa? Papa?"

He froze, straining to hear that almost heavenly voice. It sounds like an angel...

Wait...if it were an angel why would they be searching for their father? It must be the daughter the old peasant spoke of. How did she track her father here?

Never mind. Yet another trespasser to my castle, this must be seen to. She would try to get her father out, the old man had mentioned she had no one else in the world.

Half-growling, Beast galloped towards the high tower on all fours, rushing to get up the stairs to confront yet another intruder, stopping in the entrance doorway Beast's hand went to his furry throat. There was a cloaked figure in front of the cell, clutching the old peasant's hand through the bars.

"...you must go...now!" the old man was begging the figure, who shook its head.

"I won't leave you!"

The voice of the figure was clear, mature, feminine and sweet, certainly not the voice of a child, and too light to be that of an old woman. But this information came too late to Beast, as he all but leapt through the air and knocked the flaming torch from the blue-clothed intruder's right hand, the torch extinguished when it landed in a puddle of stagnant water.

"What are you doing here?" Beast yelled as the figure fell backwards. As his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, the enchanted prince could see the shadowy outline of the figure and held his breath.

It was a woman. Slender and petite, her firm figure suggested she was young. Perhaps younger than himself.

A girl...after all this time...this is no cruel trick of the light...is it?

The old peasant cried out, "Run Belle!"

Belle...beauty... it was true then. It is a young woman.

"Who's there? Who are you?" The mademoiselle questioned with a tone of fear in her voice, looking around to try and spot Beast in the shadows.

Beast softened his tone somewhat, the sweetness of her voice reminded him of his gentle sister. "The master of this castle," he growled softly, sweeping closer with cat-like swiftness to get closer to this almost apparition, for he feared she would vanish if he stayed back.

The young woman leaned forward, still on her knees, "I've come for my father. Please let him out! Can't you see he's sick?" She pleaded.

The master of Château d'démons narrowed his eyes, Again, pleading. Don't these peasants do anything else but plead for their lives?

"Then he shouldn't have trespassed here!" Beast growled back in response, baring his teeth and leaning forward for emphasis, also trying to get a better look at the first physically human female he'd seen in years.

The young woman sobbed, "But he could die! Please, I'll do anything!" She begged, leaning forward and placing her hands upon the cold dungeon floor.

Beast was surprised at the earnest manner of her pleading, but her words of doing anything filled him with bitterness. "There's nothing you can do," he turned away, This is justice for trespassing.

"He is my prisoner."

"Oh, there must be some way I can...wait!" The girl in her persistence called out, and the Beast looked over his shoulder at the girl's exclamation to halt him, his teeth still bared.

The girl looked back at her ailing father, then moved into the light. Beast swallowed hard as every inch of her pale face, (framed by long, chestnut-brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail,) was revealed at last to him.

Of course, her name would mean beauty. This 'Belle' was the single, most breathtaking sight Beast had ever beheld.

The young woman's eyes, as they slowly opened, were a shade of light brown and her picturesque lips were full, like those of a classical statue.

Beast was suddenly very ashamed of his hulking, monstrous form and went to move further into the dark shadows as the angelic beauty continued to address him.

"Take me instead."

The soft plead filled Beast once again with bitterness as he turned away from her. She would exchange herself, in the prime of her life, for her dying, elderly father?

"You—!" Beast halted mid-snarl and dared to gaze over this girl, (this young beauty called Belle,) once more, this time in disbelief. Is this actually happening? Is anyone this selfless and good? "—you would...take his place?" His voice softened, almost sounding human.

Beast was sincerely shocked, but the notion came to his head, Could this girl be the one?

"Belle, no! You don't know what you are doing!" The girl's father interrupted, crying out in dread on behalf of his daughter.

The young woman...Belle...looked firmly over at Beast. "If I did, would you let him go?" She demanded.

Beast was again taken back by the firm way this girl spoke, more like a noblewoman than a simple peasant. He moved closer, talking softly once again. "Yes, but," he marvelled at her perfect, pale skin, he longed to know the feel of it beneath his fingers.

If I could keep her long enough in here, perhaps in time...would it be possible?

The enchanted prince tilted his head, "You would have to stay here, forever."

Belle hesitated, no doubt pondering the situation of giving up her life to a person she hadn't even laid eyes on properly. "Come into the light?" She inquired slowly, squinting those large, lovely brown eyes of hers.

Beast swallowed hard again. What if she would reject him and take back her offer? How could he deal with such a prospect when the time was running out? Would he lock her up in the dungeon with her father and force her?

Bravely the Beast ignored these thoughts, and slowly stepped into the shaft of light shining down from the broken roof, straightening his back he looked down at the girl, with uncertainty in his physical demeanour and in his very blue eyes. Beast's heart sank as the girl gasped in horror and turned back to her father.

Belle's much-admired eyes were shut tight against the very sight of him.

The old man placed his hand between the bars of the dungeon door and rested it on his daughter's shoulder. "No, Belle!" He cried desperately as the young woman placed her hand on his arm comfortingly. "I won't let you do this!"

Beast stood and watched as the girl glanced back over her shoulder at him, she got to her feet and marched firmly over to stand only inches from him. She was very delicate, and only just over five feet three, if that. (Beast estimated, as her head only came up to the middle of his torso.)

But her unblemished skin had a healthy glow, and her slender build, nevertheless, looked firm, and much stronger than those of the French court princesses and duchesses he could remember.

Belle's eyes remained shut and her head was boldly held high. "You have my word," she submitted.

"Done!" Beast didn't wait one moment for a change of mind from the girl. In five short months, he'd be twenty-one and all hope for being human again lost. The enchanted prince pushed past Belle, who fell to her knees, covering up her face as Beast unlocked the door and reached in to grab the old man, who darted around Beast's reaching paw and rushed over to his daughter.

"No, Belle!" The old man begged, falling to the ground and lifting the girl up slightly, holding her in his arms. "I'm old I've lived my life—"

Beast silently reached over and dragged the old peasant away from his daughter, pulling him out of the door by the back of his collar. The old man struggled against the Prince's hold and reached out for his daughter, who reached back pleadingly.

"Wait!"

"Belle!"

"Wait!"

In his exaltation, Beast ignored the girl's cries and dragged the weeping old man down the stone stairs in great haste.

It was finally here, his chance to redeem himself and break this curse that had stolen away his childhood, youthhood, and his life, she could be the one...She must be!

Beast raced across the foyer and threw open one of the side door exits to the courtyard. His keen eyes sort out a palanquin (carriage,) covered in growth and cobwebs, abandoned in a corner of the courtyard, he shuffled slightly at the sight of the Master of the Castle as Beast quickly approached, casting a looming shadow across the leaf-strown courtyard.

"No, spare my daughter, please!" The old peasant wouldn't stop his incessant requests, and Beast lifted him up to his eye level.

"She is no longer your concern." It's true. The girl is all mine now. She has given herself up willingly as my prisoner.

Beast threw the old man into the open door of the palanquin and shut the door firmly closed, "Take him to the village!" He ordered the palanquin who had once been one of the coachmen, turning on his heel and rushing back inside on all fours with increasing speed, not looking back, only hear the clacking of the palanquin departing and the old man's continuing cries for his daughter and mercy as Beast shut the side door of the castle behind him, leaning his back briefly against it.

He had to lay eyes on that girl...Belle...again, these nearly ten years had been lonely and hard. He'd driven away his servants for the most part, and the man he was now under this beastly flesh longed for a woman's touch, as Lumière had explained to him long ago.

Speaking of his maître d'...Beast side-eyed, as he ascended back up the tower stairs, the aforementioned Lumière loitering in an alcove, with all candles blazing.

"Master–"

"What?" Beast cut off his servant with a blunt snarl.

Lumière rested his candlestick hands together. "Since the girl is going to be with us for quite some time, I was thinking that you might want to offer her a more…comfortable room?"

Beast growled low, nearly extinguishing Lumière's flames as he stalked away, hearing the candelabra mutter something about "…maybe not."

As usual, his maître d' seemed to be in the right, Damn it all...

As the enchanted prince approached the dungeon entrance and moved towards the cell, he could hear the girl's heartbroken crying. The uncertain Beast stood in the doorway, his shadow looming over the girl and she turned around, wiping her eyes with exhausted sobs.

"You didn't even let me say goodbye. I'll never see him again," Belle turned back to her position of kneeling beside the lone window and rested her head on her arms, sobbing into them once more. "I didn't get to say goodbye..."

Beast rubbed the back of his neck in confinement. He didn't know how to comfort this distraught girl at all. Beast thought he should know, but all he could hear in the back of his mind was a child's voice, his own voice thirteen years ago...

"...Père... Père!"

Shaking out the memory, Beast looked solemnly at Belle. "I'll show you to your room," he managed to eventually mumble.

The girl turned and laid upon him her own look of confusion as she wiped her eyes again. "My room?" she motioned around the cell. "But I thought—"

Beast waved around his arms as he interrupted, "You wanna – you wanna stay in the tower?" He invoked clumsily.

Belle shook her head in response. "No," she admitted quietly, getting to her feet slowly.

"Then follow me," Beast replied just as quietly, only moments here and he was already beginning to feel calmer. But his face contorted into a look of pain from the half-disgusted, half-frightened, expression on Belle's face as he turned to lead her out.

She is like looking into the radiant sun and I belong in the shadows, far away from her shining light…

Beast didn't know quite what to do with himself, so sufficed for looking over his shoulder to make Belle was still following him, that she was still there and not a dream.

Halfway down the stairs, Beast grabbed Lumière from the alcove, so he would help light the rest of the way to the East Wing of the castle.

The East Wing was somewhere Beast rarely trod, but the most beautiful room, (Christine's room,) was near the end of the elegant wing. It was the perfect place. Madame Grande Bouche would see Belle dressed in fine clothing.

She would like that, wouldn't she? Beast suspected so. Girls like clothing, don't they? He couldn't quite remember...

Beast was lost in his thoughts but was soon shaken out of them when he heard Belle gasp at the sight of something and she rushed closer to him. Walking now only slightly behind him, with her eyes closed and tears rolling down her cheeks, Beast felt nervous at the closeness of the girl and looked away to hide his embarrassment.

"Say something to her," Lumière whispered to him.

Beast nodded, it was about time his maître d' offered help. "Hmm? Oh," he turned to look behind at Belle. "I...um...hope you like it here." He glanced back over at Lumière who waved his candlestick hands encouragingly, so Beast continued to talk kindly as he turned back to where the girl was looking quizzically up at him. "The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you wish..."

The master of the castle hardened his tone slightly, she must be kept away from the shambles of his chambers and the glowing rose.

"...except the West Wing."

Belle cocked her head to the side curiously, "What's in the West Win—?"

"It is forbidden!" Beast halted and cut her off mid-sentence firmly, and he growled for emphasis down at her, then swung his red cloak around as he turned back to look ahead and continued escorting the frightened young woman to her room. He ignored Lumière shaking his head.

I will be master in my own castle.

They continued on in silence until they reached the room at the farthest end of the East Wing. Two robed angels stood guard on either side of the doorframe. Beast's reached over with his free paw and pulled down the handle, pushing the door open and stepping aside to let Belle inside the room.

The girl's face was plain, and her delicate white hands were at the broach of her cloak, she turned her back to him and held her head stubbornly high, reminding Beast of his highly-strung mare, Diamant. (Now turned into a mounting stool.)

Beast studied Belle's stoic form. Even emotionless there was something about her, something much deeper than mere looks, it sent strange sensations through Beast, even with Belle's gaze turned away from him. "Now, if there's anything you need, my servants will attend to you," he paused and waited for her to say something. Some words of gratitude.

But the girl said nothing. No thank you for not being kept in the tower. No thank you for giving her free reign of the castle, except for the west wing. Belle just kept her gaze ahead and a blank look on her lovely features.

"Dinner. Invite her to dinner," Lumière finally offered his advice in a loud whisper.

Beast stood to his full height, Belle's passive ignoring of him and her open insolence was beginning to irk him. "You will join me for dinner,"' he offered awkwardly, watching with increasing annoyance as Belle sighed deeply and Beast had finally had enough.

No one ignores me like this!

"That's not a request!" The prince shouted at the top of his lungs, slamming the door forcefully. Beast snorted at the closed doors before turning and stomping back down the hall.

Lumière, still clutched in his master's paw, raised his brow wearily. "Master, that is perhaps not the best way to win the mademoiselle's affection. You must be more chivalrous, more civil—"

Beast turned to regard his closest servant and his mouth formed a stubborn line under his fangs, "I was being civil. You, however, could have been just a little more helpful," he stressed poignantly.

There was a deep sigh from Lumière and yet a further raised brow, "Oui, perhaps, Master. But love cannot be forced, nor dictated to you by someone. You have to let yourself feel it," Lumière explained soothingly as his master placed him down on a hall table.

Rolling his eyes stubbornly, Beast glanced aside, "I don't feel anything," he mumbled embarrassedly.

"Ha!" Lumière said loudly, startling his hulking master. "Why do I not believe that? I have known you all your life, Master, do not lie to me. She is very beautiful and well-spoken, a true belle like her name...unless you do not feel that way towards young ladies?"

Beast looked back down at his maître d' with a confused raise of his eyebrows. "What...? Oh, no. Nothing like that. I like girls–"

"Women," Lumière corrected, with more than a little bit of a smirk.

"–women then, it's just," Beast rubbed the back of his neck. "I haven't been around any of them–women that is, since the curse...well, ones who weren't enchanted objects. That Belle is unlike anyone I've ever met," he honestly admitted, resting his large paws on the table.

Lumière patted Beast's left paw with one of his candlestick hands, smiling hopefully. "That may be a very good thing, Master."

"Well then?" Mrs Potts' warm voice interrupted them, an expectant look gracing her plump features as she hopped over to them with Chip, the milk jug and the sugar bowl trailing after her.

The gold candelabra maître d' jumped off the table to land at Mrs Potts' side. "We must prepare a romantic dinner by candlelight. Mrs Potts, inform Chef Bouche–"

Mrs Potts bowed, her spout almost touching the velvet carpet-covered floor, "I already took the liberty. Come along Chip, and you two as well, Jacqueline and Amiee," she addressed her son and the two kitchen maids. (The sugar bowl, Jacqueline, was the sweet wife of Beast's valet Michel.) "We have to go greet our guest," Mrs Potts winked at Beast.

"I've been told she's rather pretty, isn't she?"

"She is Mama, I've seen her!" Chip chirped up happily, he looked quizzically up at Beast with his large eyes, the recent addition of the chip on his side had come about from an accident two years ago, sadly matching his nickname. "Do you like her, Master?"

Mrs Potts nudged her son, "On with you Chip, no more of your silly questions," she smiled kindly up at the Master. "I can already see the answer to that question in someone's eyes."

Beast looked flushed and rubbed his mouth, "I— go bring her some tea," he grumbled. Mrs Potts bowed and went waddling away with her son and the kitchen maids. Soon after the tea set had turned the corner, Cogsworth arrived up the stairs in a flourish.

"Everything is being laid out splendidly, Master. A roaring fire and fine food making a very..." Cogsworth trailed off as Beast merely snorted and pushed past him, the mantle-clock watching him descend down the stairs on all fours with a sigh. "...romantic atmosphere. Oh dear…"

Lumière sided up to his counterpart, looking on as their Master paced up and down in the foyer nervously like a caged animal. "Thank heavens that a girl has arrived at last. The Master was becoming more like a wild beast every day," his waxy skin took on a green pallor.

"I don't think I could have stomached seeing him drag in another animal carcase..."

Cogsworth kindly patted Lumière's arm. He had trained Lumière in his position when the younger man had arrived in the castle as a bright fifteen-year-old boy, and, up until a few years ago, he'd never seen the tiredness the maître d' had been showing. Now Lumière's exuberance was returning, and the majordome could feel a sense of hope.

"I was beginning to fear the worst as well, my friend. But now this turn of events gives us a chance to hope for the best," Cogsworth pointed out, a smile on his face for a change as he put his arms behind his back, turning away from his fellow servant. "But we must go about this with the utmost efficiency, the girl must fall in love with the Master as quickly as possible..."

Cogsworth turned around to find himself alone, "…Lumière?" He questioned out loud, then placing one of his grasping hands over his eyes like a visor, he saw three glowing lights pursuing a shadowy outline of feathers down the East Wing. "Oh well, it looks like love might truly be in the air," he chortled to himself before the majordome descended the stairs to try to calm down his pacing Master.

***

Beast was almost wearing down the spot he was pacing in the foyer into a trench, his mind whirling with feelings so strange. Emotion that this girl...Belle, Belle, her name rang in his head like a chiming glockenspiel...Beast smiled. He remembered the sound of that tiny metal instrument…the soft French horns…a lively harpsichord leading it along...

(Beast hadn't heard music since he'd broken tiny Jacques. The music-box had been repaired, or so Cogsworth had admitted to him. But Jacques had been hidden away somewhere by his concerned parents, who didn't give in to Beast's outraged demands, mostly because they couldn't be made to talk...literally. And heavens knows where the chamber orchestra has hidden themselves these days...)

Now Beast could hear music again without anyone playing it. But, soon enough, the notes dried away into bitterness.

The hard truth was that the girl must be made to fall in love with him. Beast didn't know how to force such an emotion. He didn't remember a lot about how his parents had acted around one another. Lumière was always smooching with his silly French maid like a daft man, Capitaine Amable had loved Christine...

Beast stopped his pacing. He'd never thought of that before. He realised it now. His sister and Edgard would take him for walks around the castle grounds, their arms linked, as the little prince he'd been, raced about talking about one thing or another...

Well, that was certainly strange, no wonder...

"Oh, Master?"

"What?" Beast inquired as he was startled out of his thoughts by his happy-looking majordome. "Oh, it's you Cogsworth," he sat back on his haunches as the mantle-clock bowed obediently.

"Yes, Master. If you would like to follow me to the private dining room, everything should be prepared."

Beast nodded and got to his feet, "Well, lead on. Everything better be perfect," he warned.

***

The firelight danced merrily along the decorated walls of the private dining room. The long table in the middle of the room was laid out with decadent fare. Chef Bouche had happily whipped up an elegant feast and the delicacies were numerous.

Lumière, up on the mantle with Mrs Potts, took his gaze from his nervously pacing master to gaze over the candlelit dinner with a critical eye. He would have preferred flowers from the garden house adorning the setting, I have a feeling the girl likes flora...

Beast growled low in his throat and the maître d' turned his attention back on his temperamental master, Mrs Potts looking on sympathetically.

"What's taking so long? I told her to come down..." Beast glared up at his head servants, anger in his tone but also hurt confusion. "Why isn't she here yet?!"

"Oh, do try to be patient, sir. The girl has lost her father and her freedom all in one day," Mrs Potts said comfortingly in the warm tone Beast hadn't heard her use in a long time. He was placated for a few moments as he resumed his pacing, this time more slowly.

Lumière raised his candlestick hand. "Uh, Master, have you thought that, perhaps, this girl could be the one to break the spell?" He inquired hopefully.

Beast took his meaning the wrong way and halted again in his pacing. "Of course I have!" He snapped up at the mantle, Presumptuous candelabra... "I'm not a fool," he mumbled this last part as he resumed his pacing again.

The girl is my last hope, I know that as fact, not as a probability.

The maître d' beamed and pressed his candlestick hands together, Ah the possibility of l'amour! I would so love to see the boy in love...and let us not forget us all becoming human again. "Good. You fall in love with her," Lumière lit up his right candlestick, "she falls in love with you." Lumière lit up his right candlestick, "and—Poof!" he blew out both flames on his candlesticks and beamed down at his Master.

"The spell is broken! We'll be human again by midnight!"

Mrs Potts shook her head. Lumière was used to having women fawn all over him, but true love that was needed to break the spell needed to be nurtured. "Oh, it's not that easy, Lumière. These things take time," she said firmly to the candelabra.

"But the rose has already begun to wilt," the maître d' stressed, pointing his hands downwards to drive his point home. Mrs Potts sighed and looked just as concerned at Lumière as they turned to gaze down at their master. He will soon be twenty-one. Over ten years...

Beast stopped his pacing and looked up exhaustedly at his servants with a sigh, "Oh it's no use," he rubbed the back of his neck, "she's so beautiful and I'm..." he pulled down his paw and looked at it in disgust. Did a human hand really use to be there? "...I'm...well, look at me!" He growled up at his servants in frustration and sorrow, his teeth bared.

Lumière was lost for words for a change and Mrs Potts gave him a sad look as he shrugged in her direction and turned to gaze gently down at the Prince.

Angela Potts had held the only son of Prince Christophe long before anyone else, the very moment when he came into this world. Her young master might have tried to repress his name, but Mrs Potts would always hold him as her Adam, like one of her own children.

When this spell was broken, she'd hold him again.

"Oh, you must help her to see past all that," Mrs Potts soothed. If she could still see the boy she cared for under all that fur. Surely that lovely Belle could see past the outward appearance to the man his Highness must be underneath now. The young woman was intelligent and would make a likely match for Adam's temper, with her stubbornness and gentle nature.

Beast looked away with a scowl like an impertinent child, "I don't know how," he grumbled.

Mrs Potts straightened herself up and narrowed her eyes. Oh no, this is no time for the self-pitying act. It's high time he acts like the grown man he is. No more mollycoddling. "Well," she hopped off the mantle. "You can start by making yourself look more presentable," Mrs Potts hopped onto the table so that she was at eye level with Beast. "Straighten up."

Beast instantly placed his paws together and stood up formally on all fours like an obedient dog, holding his head high.

"Try to act like a gentleman," Mrs Potts added firmly.

"Ah yes," Lumière eager to get his Master in a better mood and prepared to be chivalrous. "When she comes in, give her a dashing, debonair smile," he beamed himself to give an example and encouraged Beast. "Come, come, show me the smile."

Beast tried to imitate his maître d's charming grin, but just ended up barring his fangs in a manner that would have been frightening if not for the attempted kindness in the rest of his expression.

"Don't frighten the poor girl," Mrs Potts admonished.

Beast dropped his grin and looked over at her confusedly, his mouth hanging slightly open. I wasn't trying to...

"Impress her with your rapier wit," Lumière interrupted helpfully.

The Beast nodded, then was slightly confused. Rapier wit...?

"Be gentle," Mrs Potts interceded with a smile as Beast again turned his attention to her.

"Shower her with compliments," Lumière offered, the Master turning to regard the piece of advice from his maître d'.

Compliments, right, yes...you look...pretty...no, beautiful...

"But be sincere," Mrs Potts said warmly, interrupting Beast's thoughts of preparation yet again.

The enchanted prince jammed his paws over his ears, he needed to concentrate. Can't they give me a moment to think for myself? Don't frighten her…rapier wit...whatever that is…be gentle, compliment her, and be sincere...

"And above all," Lumière's voice cut into Beast's sore head, but this time the Master kept his eyes sealed shut.

"You must control your temper!" Mrs Potts and Lumière said in unison.

Beast scowled, I can control my temper! They don't need to remind me...

There was a slight squeaking of a door handle and Lumière whispered excitedly to his Master. "Here she is!"

Removing his paws from his ears and opening his large blue eyes, Beast looked hopefully over in the direction of the doorway.

The right door opened slightly and peering around the side was...Cogsworth. Who looked decidedly caught between sheepish and panicked.

"Good evening," the majordome almost squeaked out in his precise accent, his gold grasping hands resting anxiously on the door edge.

Beast's expression fell into annoyance and his ears drooped down accordingly, "Well? Where is she?" He demanded, waving his paws for emphasis, possibly as a threat, which Cogsworth would knowingly take into account.

The mantle-clock nervously stepped into the room and tried to act nonchalantly. "Who? Oh ah...the girl…yes, the girl! Well, actually, she's in the process of..." Cogsworth rubbed his grasping hands together as the Master's eyes slowly became narrower. "...ah, um, circumstances being what they are, ah..." He dropped the façade and his cheery expression drooped.

"She's not coming."

Beast tilted back his head and let out a strangled cry of outrage, "What?!" He bellowed, pushing past Cogsworth and bolting out of the doors, pushing them both open in his raw anger and annoyance. Beast galloped out of the room and rushed up the staircase on all fours in his haste to get to the room in the East Wing.

Ungrateful girl! She's a lowly peasant and I asked her politely...no, I ordered her politely to come to dinner. Who does she think she is?

Beast could hear Cogsworth's desperate cries of, "Your grace! Your eminence! Let's not be hasty!" Vaguely in the background, but took none of the titles, (even the strange 'eminence' reference,) into account as he all but leapt over the balustrade, and rushed to the robed angel-guarded room, pounding furiously on the door.

"I thought I told you to come down to dinner!" Beast demanded a response from the girl.

Which came back swiftly, stubbornly, and slightly muffled, through the closed doors.

"I'm not hungry!"

How dare she? The mane on the back of Beast's neck raised up in his anger as he yelled back. "You'll come out or I'll..." he quickly thought of the best threat he could. "...I'll break down the door!" Beast clenched his large fists behind his back. There. I'll grab her and pull her out of the room! See how she would like that...!

"Master?" Lumière ventured, and Beast looked down at his maître d' with a strained expression. "I could be wrong, but," he chuckled nervously. "That may not be the best way to win the girl's affections–"

"Please," Cogsworth interrupted with his hands clenched together desperately. "Attempt to be a gentleman?"

Attempt? I am trying to be a gentleman and she is...she is... "But she," Beast gestured to the door with his teeth clenched. "Is being so difficult!" The prince barked out the last word directly to the closed doors and looked back down at his servants for advice.

"Gently, gently," Mrs Potts offered soothingly, with well-practised patience.

Beast scowled in annoyance, looking away from his servants back at the door, then glanced away, his mouth crooked in the long-suffering expression of frustration the servants could remember him wearing as a boy.

"Will you come down to dinner?" Beast addressed Belle stoically through the door, without the usual growl behind his tone, but in no way submissive.

"No," Belle responded with only slightly more gentility and a very upset trill, suggesting that she was annoyed at still being badgered.

Beast pointed to the door in outrage and grunted his point to the servants. The girl still won't let up and I am being made to look like a fool, I should just break down the blasted doors...

Cogsworth cleared his throat, "Suave, gentile...?" He suggested quietly with a nervous smile.

The mane on the back of Beast's neck was again rising with his growing displeasure and he clenched his red cloak between his paws, his claws digging into the fine fabric and his tail swishing in annoyance. "It would give me," he said in a strained tone and his teeth clenched yet again as he bowed slightly. "Great pleasure, if you would join me for dinner..."

"Ahem, ahem, we say please," Cogsworth interjected in a stage whisper.

Beast rolled his eyes and leaned in closer to the green doors. "Please." He added reluctantly. Ridiculous word, I haven't had to use it in years. Now I have to use it on a peasant girl...

"No, thank you!" Belle's response was sharp and full of the previously suggested annoyance that Beast wouldn't take her first response as her absolute refusal.

Beast's fur raised up all over his body in his own annoyance. How dare she? Not even my own family spoke to me like this! Only that ridiculous peasant girl in Paris had ever...

Damn, what brought back that memory?

Beast's fury knew no bounds and he grabbed the corners of his cloak in his frustration. "Fine! Then go ahead and staaarve!" The last word came out as an elongated roar like an animal snarl as the Prince bellowed at those damnable closed doors. Beast turned on his servants with his teeth bared, all patience gone out the window, he pointed at his chest.

"If she doesn't eat with me, then she doesn't at all," he waved his arms to emphasise his absolution.

Growling his displeasure, Beast galloped away from the east wing and rushed towards his chambers in the West Wing, slamming the doors behind him in his fury, How could she dare to refuse me? Nobody ever refuses me...especially if I was polite to them!

He pushed open the doors to his Master Chambers, "I ask nicely and she refuses," Beast mumbled to himself, tossing aside a broken chair blocking his way as he made his way over to where the ever-blooming rose, (that was starting to wilt, and a number of petals already fallen under the dome to the tabletop.) "Well wha—what does she want me to do? Beg?!" He exclaimed in outrage.

The cursed prince looked down at the table and grabbed the enchanted mirror resting near the rose. "Show me the girl," Beast demanded.

The mirror glowed its usual eerie green colour, and Beast's solemn reflection shimmered away and was replaced by a view of his sister's room. The beautiful Belle was sitting on the corner of the bed with her arms folded under her breasts, and her lovely mouth set in a stubborn line. Her brown eyes were turned to Madame de la Grande Bouche.

The habilleur-turned-wardrobe was leaning on the bed opposite the girl, with a cheery smile over her broad wooden features. "Why, the Master's not so bad once you get to know him." Madame de la Grande explained with a pleading tone in her voice. "Why don't you give him a chance?"

Belle turned her elegant head away and closed her eyes. "I don't want to get to know him," she turned back around and unfolded her arms, as she looked back at the wardrobe with a half-frightened, half-unyielding countenance. "I don't want to have anything to do with him!"

Beast looked away with a dejected expression, She would think that way. I hoped perhaps too much for something that would be too much to ask for. "I'm just fooling myself. She'll never see me as anything..." he turned away and placed back down the mirror gingerly on the table.

"...but a monster," Beast whispered.

I am. That's all I am. The Enchantress had been right to turn me this way...no one could ever love me.

"It's hopeless," the enchanted prince murmured as he leaned over the table and rested his huge head in his left paw, resting his right on the edge of the elaborately carved tabletop. Peering through his fingers he saw yet another petal had fallen. It won't be long now.

Tilting his head back to look up at the high vaulted ceiling, Beast let out a shuddering sigh and looked over his shoulder at the open window.

It was snowing, but he needed a long walk to clear his thoughts. This girl...only hours of being here and already she was turning his life upside down...well more so...bah, I don't know any more.

Thank you for reading. Chapter Five will be up soon.

Chapter Text

Stomping around in the castle grounds in the bitter snow for a few hours had not improved Beast's disposition one ounce. His feet were wet and half-frozen, and his furry coat was covered with unmelted snow. The hem of his thick, red cloak was sopping wet and dragged heavily behind him.

Beast grunted as he pulled his cloak forward as it stuck to the ground. He wanted to sleep off his tired annoyance. Finally, a girl arrived and was proving to be just as much work as finding any way else to break the spell. Beast knew that perhaps she was disgusted not only by his physical appearance but also at being told what to do.

Her father seemed like the gentle, scholarly type of person usually only noble fathers could afford to be. Perhaps Beast was mistaken, perhaps Belle was some form of nobility.

The prince-turned-Beast reached the west side of the castle and began the climb up to his balcony, with long practised sure-footedness, he scaled the crumbling exterior of the once fine baroque period château.

The climbing vines, mostly of ivy, had long ago dried up and crumbled beneath his powerful touch, sending their dried husks and the semi-soft snow tumbling down as Beast grabbed a hold of the structure railing and hoisted himself onto the balcony. Looking up into his chambers, Beast let out an angry snort of shock, as he saw a figure, half enshrouded in darkness and half-lit, illuminated by the glow of the enchanted rose, which was without its dome.

It was the girl, emerged from her room. She had disobeyed his order never to enter the West Wing, and worst of all she had removed the dome from the enchanted rose! What if she would touch the flower and its delicate, dying form shook loose the last of the petals?

Leaping through the air with amazing speed, quick as a flash Beast grabbed the glass dome and placed it firmly back down over the shimmering, hovering red rose. He growled low in his throat and continued his glaring at the girl, who was slowly backing away with a petrified expression freezing her delicate pale features, her eyes enlarged with fear.

How could she...how dare she...!

"Why did you come here?" Beast tried to check his temper. But the horrified expression on the girl's face was making his fear and anger grow rapidly. Why did she disobey me? He had expressly forbidden her to come here at all!

The girl tried to stammer out an apology, "I'm sorry..."

Beast followed as she continued her slowly edging backwards. "I warned you never to come here!" He cut her off with a loud snarl and flung out his arms.

Belle jumped behind a table and rested her hands on the top, "I didn't mean any harm..."

Troublesome peasant girl! Likely she was trying to destroy me so she can go back to her father! Even if she were not, wouldn't she have enough sense to see the object shouldn't be touched at all?

"Don't you realise what you could have done?!" Beast pulled back his huge furry arm and smashed the fragile wooden table she was trying to hide behind in his unbridled fury.

She shouldn't have been here in the first place!

Belle jumped out of the way of the splintering pieces of furniture flying through the air and pressed herself up against a wardrobe, her chest heaving in her panic. "Please stop!" She cried out pleadingly.

More begging and more pleading for me not to harm her...What about the harm that she could have done to me?!

"Get out!" Beast roared in her face and reached out with a mighty paw to smash the polished wardrobe behind her.

The blue-clad maiden turned and let out a frightened cry, running for the door as Beast again roared out in his uncontrollable fury, smashing another piece of furniture within his reach. He threw his head forward as he roared the last words to the girl as she fled.

"Get out!"

Pulling himself back up and flinging his cloak behind him, Beast suddenly let out a gasp as the weight of his unbridled actions fell upon him.

Oh no... no...  what have I done?!

That girl...Belle, his last hope...all that could have been done to try and stop the curse...she will never forgive me... Beast smashed his face into his mighty paw and let out a frustrated, silent cry.

The enchanted Prince heard the front doors of the castle slam open, and Beast rushed over to one of the side balconies of his room to see Belle rushing out into the courtyard, her dark blue cloak thrown hurriedly over her shoulders and she leapt up onto a heavy horse who had been tied up outside...

Damn, why hadn't one of the grooms taken the creature to the stables?

Despite his panic, Beast still noticed how perfectly the girl had mounted and ridden the horse through the open gates. She was clearly a good horsewoman, but she still didn't know the forests like he did.

Beast took a running leap from the balcony and landed on one of the jutting machicolations, looking downwards, he jumped from the platform and landed hard on the soft snow.

Getting to his feet, Beast then rushed forward on all fours. Belle had the advantage, but he would use every known shortcut to cut off her attempted escape. Blasted girl...no, blast me, I shouldn't have frightened her. Now she will be exposed to all the dangers of the Forêt Noire.

The low-hanging branches, thorn-filled thickets and ditches were difficult to see in the darkness, let alone in a snowstorm. However, the most frightening part were the packs of wolves that ran rampant throughout the dense forest. They could bring down even a draught horse like Belle was riding, and the girl, despite her strong personality, was delicate...

The sudden thought of Belle lying dead in the snow, her throat torn open and blood into the snow making a red-pink pool around her motionless, cold, lifeless form, made Beast's speed increase a hundred-fold as he ploughed through powdery banks of snow.

I mustn't—no, I will not let that be her fate. Belle must be saved. Chances are she might be the only one who can save me now.

Beast had a feeling deep down inside his soul that this would be his only chance, that the Enchantress continued to watch him, and was testing him with this girl in the final months before this curse would become permanently upon him. That it was only through some small mercy, (only granted by the Enchantress' goodwill, and that of the divine heavens above,) that a mademoiselle had come to...could possibly…end his misery.

The prince found the horseshoe tracks in the snow and trailed them to a point when Beast caught his breath. As he feared, wolf tracks had joined those of Belle's horse. He looked over and saw they lead all the way to the river edge, and there was a massive break in the middle of the semi-frozen river and as the tracks stopped on the riverbank. Beast assumed they'd tried escaping across the river, which was not yet completely solid.

Backing up a bit, Beast knew a trail that lead to an old bridge and would take him right around, it should be enough to get to the girl in time.

Racing across the riverbank edge, Beast found the old bridge and crossed it, clambering up the slippery bank on the other side he pushed forward through the icy wind, he couldn't track any scents because of it.

He heard a woman's frightened scream nearby.

It's Belle... am I too late?

Beast pushed the worried thought from his mind as he scrambled through the thorny growth that tore at his cloak, before skidding to a halt near a cleared, snow-covered area where he, at last, found the girl lying prone on the ground, surrounded by a pack of wolves.

The vicious pack were encircling Belle, and one wolf had a hold of her cape, holding her down while another wolf was about to lunge for her exposed throat. Belle held up her hand to her face and let out a terrified scream.

Without a moment's hesitation, Beast jumped through the air and grabbed hold of the attacking wolf by the scruff of the neck, before he could even lay a tooth on Belle.

Whipping around the dishevelled creature, Beast roared dangerously into the animal's snarling features and tossed the wolf aside, bending down beside Belle protectively. He eyed off the pack of wolves carefully.

Which one was the alpha? Beast knew from past experience that if he took out the alpha male or female, all the pack of wolves would scatter.

Identifying what looked like one of the dominant creatures, Beast lunged forward and moved to attack, but the entire pack leapt forward also, their yellow eyes set on the much bigger creature. The wolves sharp teeth and claws dug into Beast's thick brown coat and bit down hard in an effort to bring him down.

Beast let out a pain-filled roar as they all set on him, ripping at tearing not only on his flesh but slicing his cloak to pieces.

I must knock out the dominant creature! Beast's only thought pounded in his mind as he tumbled into the snow-covered ground, reaching over with his mighty paw he pulled off one of the wolves latched to his shoulder and tossed it to the ground.

Yet another wolf jumped on his back and the rest were surrounding him. When Beast went to dispose of yet another wolf, they all jumped upon him, digging in their teeth with vicious intent.

With a howl of pain, Beast threw off one of the creatures and then suddenly, with a defeated howl of retreat, the pack scattered.

Exhaustedly, the enchanted prince realised at last he'd gotten one of the alphas. Taking in a deep, heavy breath, Beast heard the crush of snow as the wolves continued, frightened and whimpering, racing off back into the darkness of the forest.

Beast finally turned to where he'd left Belle lying on the ground. He snorted in relief as he saw the young woman on her feet, standing next to her saddled heavy horse. Her wide brown eyes set on him and her beautiful hair loose and tangled, fluttering about her shoulders in the wind like she was an ethereal forest spirit...

As long as she's all right...she is...she... Beast let out a low moan and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, falling into darkness, he didn't even feel the cold wetness of the snow as his bloodied form landed hard in a huddled heap to the ground.

***

"Adam..."

Beast's head lifted. He was outside the mausoleum where his family for the past three generations had been buried. Calling to him was that voice, strong and gentle all at the same time. Beast knew that voice. There was a soft light glowing within the mausoleum that he could see through the window and through the cracks of the door.

"Père?" Beast whispered. Was he dead? Had his father come for him?

Pulling his arms over his head, Beast moaned. He didn't want his father to see him like this. Must he carry the burden of this cumbersome, vicious curse even to the afterlife? Let them send him to Hell, so long as his father would not have to see him this way...what if his maman and Christine saw him this way as well? The enchanted prince began to sob.

The door of the tomb began to open, and the almost blinding glow came from within, a tall figure was outlined in the glow, standing in the doorway. "Mon fils? Mon fils?" Again, Beast could hear Christophe's gentle voice. "Is it you?"

Struggling to his feet, Beast slowly backed away from the mausoleum, but found himself being pulled back, pulled closer to the open door by some strong force he couldn't fight...

No, he would not face his father this way. No, no...

"Monsieur?"

A heavenly voice penetrated his dreams and Beast's eyes snapped open. Groggily, he closed them again as dizziness set in.

Shaking his large head, Beast slowly open his eyes this time. The hazy features of a young woman slowly started to meld together, and the face of Belle was peering down at him...maybe he was dead. No angel could be more beautiful...

Beast blinked a couple of times and looked around. He was seated in his favourite chair in the sitting room in front of a fire.

Mrs Potts and Chip, Lumière, Cogsworth, Babette and Sultan were standing hesitantly beside Belle...

Belle?

Beast suddenly realised what had happened, and his eyes widened. The girl had had her chance to escape. She could have left him there in the snow to die and gone back to the village and her father, but she hadn't.

The prince was genuinely startled. "How...why?" He whispered his question in shock.

The young woman raised a thin brown eyebrow and tucked a strand of her loose hair behind her ear, and Belle pulled back from her position leaning over him, kneeling back down on the ground beside a copper basin with a cloth resting inside it.

"I couldn't just leave you there," Belle said plainly, lifting Mrs Potts and pouring hot water into the basin at Beast's feet.

Couldn't? Or was frightful of me chasing after you if I came to? Beast grumblingly thought, looking down at his right arm he saw severe teeth marks penetrating deep down into his forearm. Letting out a wincing growl, Beast lifted his sore arm to his mouth and began to lick at the bloody scrapes.

"Here now!" Belle's gentle voice called out in alarm as she was suddenly back at his side and reached out with her hand. "Don't do that," she pleaded.

Beast let out a concerned growl and pulled back from Belle's touch. Why should she tell me what to do? I am perfectly capable of tending to my own wounds. What is she thinking?

The servants backed away as Belle proceeded to try and place the hot cloth over Beast's wounded arm, which he had clutched in his left hand and was trying to dodge the young woman's efforts.

"Just hold still," Belle continued to beg as she moved about the cloth almost like a weapon.

Damn, persistent creature...! Beast's further thoughts of annoyance were cut off when Belle finally succeeded in placing the searingly hot cloth on his exposed wound.

"Rwaaaaaaaaarrrr!" Beast exclaimed in alarm, turning to glare down at Belle's stern features. "That hurt!" He yelled at Belle with such force it blew the hair away from her face, and the servants dove for cover behind a small table.

Belle leaned forward with her mouth set in a stubborn line, "If you would hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much!" She pointed out with a yell of her own back in his face.

Beast lowered his defensive stance only slightly. This was all her fault and she is acting like I did this to myself! "If you hadn't run away, this wouldn't have happened," he almost smirked as he motioned to his wound. There. I've finally gotten the better...

"If you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away!" Belle countered with an outraged tone in her voice, pointing away from herself for emphasis.

The mouth of the prince-turned-Beast dropped open in surprise, she dared even now to contradict him? He turned his gaze aside...Maybe she was right, I really shouldn't have...wait a moment...

"Well...you," Beast pointed at her. "Shouldn't have been the West Wing," he shot back with a self-satisfied smirk, making a fist with his uninjured paw and resting it on the chair's armrest. He stared at Belle expectantly, with the smirk growing wider across his face.

Belle had folded her slim arms and turned her head to the side, her eyes enlarged with outrage and she turned back to Beast to be only centimetres away from his fanged features, indignation making her natural boldness stronger. "Well, you should learn to control your temper!" She responded every bit as firmly.

Stubborn brown eyes locked with furious blue ones and Beast huffed.

No one had contradicted him like this in years. Not even his own mother had ever spoken to him in this manner. His father hadn't the time to discipline him. Mrs Potts had only chastened him once or twice that he could remember but always negotiated with him, never confronting him in this way.

Mulishly, Beast narrowed his eyes and put on the sulky expression he hadn't worn in as many years as not being reprimanded, leaning his mighty head on his fisted left paw resting on the armrest, glancing over at Belle as she took his arm...her hand was so soft, like his mother's, like Christine's. But there was a slight firmness to her skin from years of physical labour.

Beast was quite at a loss to understand completely the effect of such a gentle motion on his emotional state.

"Now hold still, this might sting a little," Belle informed him once again.

The enchanted prince was still slightly dazed from her touch, "Mmph," he slowly mumbled, then he felt the stinging warmth of the cloth on his wound and grunted loudly from the pain of it, lurching his head aside, his eyes shut firmly. Some hulking monster I'm supposed to be, now I'm in pain from being attacked by a five-foot-something slip of a girl and a hot rag...

He could feel Belle's continuing patting of his wound with the cloth, when her soft voice broke the silence.

"By the way, thank you, for saving my life."

Beast opened his eyes and looked down at the young woman in surprise. After waiting so long for a word of gratitude from Belle's lips and seeing the true gratuity in her lovely expressive eyes, he lowered his head down to her level, "You're welcome," he murmured.

Belle nodded her head and continued to nurse his wound.

"Master, did you really defeat a whole pack of wolves?" The bright, chirpy voice of Chip interrupted the quiet that was again descending. Beast looked over to where his servants had again moved forward, to stand beside Belle.

"Hush up now Chip, it's past your bedtime and you know better than to disturb the Master with silly questions," Mrs Potts kindly admonished the bright-eyed youngest of her sons.

The enchanted prince almost smiled, it was like the way he used to beg Capitaine Amable and his Père for stories.

"It's all right, Mrs Potts," Beast said quietly, looking down seriously at the small teacup. "I did," he admitted, the almost smile returning when he saw Chip's eyes lit up by the firelight widening even further. He must be softening with age, the boy wasn't as annoying any more.

Mrs Potts smiled down at her son and then looked up at the Master. "Well then sir, if you don't need us any further...Miss Belle?" Her blue eyes turned to the young woman wringing out the cloth in the basin, Belle looked calmly over and shook her head.

Beast cleared his throat nervously, "No I think...I think the Mademoiselle is doing a good job," he eyed his maître 'd, who was smiling encouragingly. "You can all go for the evening, if you wish."

The tone of voice was, for a change, kind, but firm. The servants all, but the confused Chip and his dog-turned-footstool, smiled to themselves. It was time to leave those two alone for a little while.

Belle could clearly hold her own and Beast seemed to be placated, they could start to get to know one another now.

"Of course, Master, heh heh, splendid," Cogsworth bowed and Mrs Potts followed suit, as Chip looked up hopefully.

"But I wanted to hear more about the wolves!" The boy complained. "I'm not sleepy," Christopher Potts argued with a stifled yawn, Mrs Potts waddled back and nudged her son. "No Mama..."

"Oh yes, my son. Goodnight Master, goodnight Miss Belle," Mrs Potts beamed, leading her son up the stairs and out to where Cogsworth was waiting. Sultan yawned and curled up in front of the fire.

Lumière looked over the charming scene with a wide smile and put his arm around Babette, who had her eyes half-lidded with emotion at the tender way Belle was taking care of Beast.

"Come, cherie. Call if you need anything, Master. Mademoiselle Belle," Lumière looped his arm around Babette's waist and murmured softly to her as they exited the room. "Possibilité d'un jeune amour enfin?"

"Oui, Lumière? Nous avons attendu si longtemps..."

Beast half-wished his staff hadn't left, as he'd never been alone with a young woman since before since he'd come of age. But the sweet quietness of the situation seemed somehow fitting, he wanted to know all about Belle. "So, Mademoiselle, how old are you?" He ventured.

Belle looked surprised up at Beast as she reached for some clean bandage cloth, "Hmm? Oh, I am eighteen. My birthday was last week. It was on the seventeenth," she revealed, starting to wrap the binding around Beast's forearm.

Beast took a mental note, The seventeenth of November...

The young woman looked up as she went about her task. "And how old are you?" Belle queried politely.

Beast swallowed, "I'm twenty," he answered. "Are you engaged or wedded, Mademoiselle?" Beast inquired worriedly. Eighteen...she could have been married for a few years by now...

The brunette woman shook her head as she wound around the bandages. "No, I am not. I suppose you think it's strange for a peasant girl to still be without a beau or husband at my age?" Belle pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Beast nodded in relief and the young woman sighed.

"Well, I'm not from around here. I was born in Paris...have you ever been there?"

Beast paused, feeling the weight of Belle's brown-eyed gaze. Did she suspect something? "Oh...not really." It was a half-truth. He'd only ever been in and out of the palaces, churches, and to high-class cafés...perhaps the gardens. He'd never been completely around the actual town.

Belle looked like she didn't fully believe him but continued to tie up his bandage with practised ease.

"Well, my father and I only moved to Tarbes four years ago. Not that I haven't been asked to marry, repeatedly." With the slight annoyance in Belle's voice, the enchanted prince could definitely hear that her accent was decidedly more refined, more precise than that of the peasants of the Gascogne villages Beast could remember.

"However, I'm still considered a bit of an outcast in the town."

"You? An outcast? But you're so beautiful!" Beast exclaimed in disbelief.

Belle finished her tying and double-knotted the bandage for security, resting her hands on her lap as she sighed heavily. "So I've been told. I don't know why people place such emphasis on how a young woman looks, rather than who she is by her mind and deed. The villagers call me a: Beauty, but a funny girl. They think that it is odd for a young woman, especially a young, peasant woman, to read," Belle tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear.

"I suppose you think it is odd as well, Monsieur?"

Beast cocked his head to the side, "I... I must admit I have never heard of such a thing before. Was your father a scholar?" He was trying to remember the niceties of conversation while attempting to study the line of Belle's jaw unnoticed, eyes dropping to the elegant neckline that ran down to her curvy breast.

She's still such a wonder to me, I supposed I've been isolated from...

Belle caught Beast's wondering eye with a wary expression and the prince blushed under his fur.

"My Papa? Yes, he is a scientist and an inventor," Belle tucked her legs underneath her. "Do you have parents? I don't mean to presume as this is an enchanted castle, but...do you have a mother or a father? Or any siblings?"

Beast nodded sadly, "Yes," he admitted. Belle's brown eyes filled with curiosity. "So, you like to read. Do people make fun of you?" He attempted to change the conversation, and the young woman reached over to stroke the head of the sleeping Sultan absent-mindedly.

"I suppose. Most of the time behind my back…except once in Paris. I was a little girl, I was reading in the park and a young nobleman approached me. He was only a boy, and I found out later he was a prince. He asked me why I was reading a book as I was a girl," Belle tilted her head to the side and Beast's mouth dropped open a little.

"...what is a girl like you reading such a thick book, and a book all together?"

The young woman continued to tell her tale. "I said something like a girl may read a book if she pleases, just as he would if he pleased, and for all the money in the world he could have, all the learning he could do, he told me he didn't like books," Belle looked over at Beast with a soft smile.

"I later realised how sad he had seemed, rather than ignorant. His father died later that day and I saw the funeral...Monsieur?"

Beast tried to keep his emotion in check. He remembered how that little girl...the same Belle here with him now, had been the only one to stand up to him as a child. Is this part of the Enchantress plan?

"...Monsieur?" Belle voiced again, Beast looked over to see that she was again seated beside him on the floor. "In the village, they tell stories that the boy I met, Prince Adam de Gascogne, lived alone in a castle on the edge of the district, but they have not heard from him in almost ten years. I saw a slashed painting upstairs in your room," she continued, and Beast nodded in uncertainty.

What is she going to ask me...? I can't give her the answers...I wish I could...

"It bore an uncanny resemblance to the prince I met in Paris, from what I could remember of him. Was this his castle?"

Beast paused and looked away, "It is late, and I am tired," he looked back at Belle who looked more curious than ever before. "Thank you for the bandage. Would you like me to call Lumière or Cogsworth to escort you to your room?" He got to his feet and Belle got to her own, she tilted her head as she looked up at him.

"I wouldn't like to bother them. Perhaps if you would like to escort me?" The cautious offer made Beast feel warm inside and he inclined his head in surprise.

"Of course, if you wish," Beast mumbled. Belle gave Beast a small smile without showing her teeth and Beast remembered to offer his uninjured arm, the girl looked hesitant and Beast dropped his arm hurriedly. "I'm sorry, follow me." He lowered his head, thinking how he wished Belle had linked her arm around his, he wanted to feel her touch again.

They walked slowly down the hall and then began to ascend the stairs, Belle kept close to Beast and kept silent. They finally reached Christine's room, and Beast opened the door for the young woman, she stepped inside the doorway and Beast rubbed the back of his neck shyly. He knew what he wanted to say...Just say it! He admonished himself.

"Mademoiselle," Beast called out to the beautiful girl, who was in the process of closing the door and peered around the edge, blinking up at him with her large eyes. "I'm...sorry that I frightened you. If it's any consolation, I never would have laid a hand on you in anger. I never will. You do not have to call me Monsieur, you may call me: Beast," he whispered the last part.

He watched Belle's eyes crinkle in the corners, "Thank you, Beast, please call me Belle." She inclined her head and then shut the door firmly.

Beast let out a sigh and ran his hand over his face. I can call her Belle, that is a very good start...I think. He looked thoughtfully down at his shredded clothing. For the past few years, he'd worn nothing but these rags. It had to stop.

He was a prince, despite his outward appearance. Perhaps if I could have the tailors make me some new clothing, Belle might relax around me a little more if I at least dressed like a human.

Nodding his large head, Beast raced down the stairs and headed towards where the castle habilleur and tailors last resided. He hoped that they hadn't rusted away.

***

The room was lit up dimly with candles and a perfume that smelled like roses wafted through the air. From his position on the bed, Beast looked around what looked like his chambers but they were restored to their elegant glory, looking just as they had been ten years ago.

He whipped around his head to the right when he felt a weight on the bed.

It was Belle. The young woman dressed only in a simple white nightgown cut low over her shoulders, her hair trailing down her back in perfectly brushed waves.

"Belle," the prince whispered, no growl behind his voice, it was soft and deep. Beast looked down at his hands, they were human, bare of any heavy fur, only a little fair hair along the back of them. Was this a dream? It had to be...

"Shh," Belle hushed as she moved towards him. Beast swallowed hard as his eyes travelled over her pale, smiling features and down her long neck to the curve of her unbound breasts, which were almost visible through the fine delicate fabric of her nightgown. Belle's rounded hips and her slender legs edged ever closer to him.

Beast breathed in hard in anticipation, reaching out with his hand to cup her beautiful face, but, suddenly, Belle pulled back with a horrified scream. Panicked, Beast looked to see that in his hand's place was a massive paw. Belle had crawled all the way to the edge of the bed and had the back of her hand held up against her mouth in horror as she continued to scream.

"No!" Beast grabbed the offending paw and screamed, "Nooo..."

"No!"

Beast sat up on his broken bed with a start, he then tried to regulate his erratic breathing. Gasping in a deep breath, Beast ran his hand over his head. Well, this is a new sensation. The uncontrollable desire he had felt for Belle as she'd disappeared into her room last night had somehow manifested itself into a dream, a dream unbelievably real and full of...

Bitterness.

The prince sighed heavily as he leaned back against his broken and torn, satin-button-backed bedhead. For all the fact that he wanted to pull Belle close and feel her body meld to his own, Beast knew it wasn't possible in this form. She wouldn't even lay a hand on me, let alone give herself to me.

Calming himself down Beast folded his arms and flung his powerful legs over the side of the bed. This was his chance to change back to being human. It was time to start to prove to Belle that he could be the lover and husband she needed.

When Beast had first seen Belle all he wanted to do was force her to fall in love with him to break the spell, now...

Beast got to his feet and stretched out his tight limbs, "Now," he murmured to himself. "I don't want to pressure her because of the curse. I just want her to love me," Beast mulled over the strangeness of saying those words out loud.

He'd always just assumed people were meant to love him, his parents, Christine, his servants, his subjects...the Beast had not needed to garner their love by word or deed. But Belle's love, on the other hand, needed to be earned.

"Michel!" Beast called out loudly. "Michel!"

After a moment of silence, one of the side doors opened and a coat rack peered around. The rounded, wooden knob that served as a head looked around the door and Michel approached Beast, the valet bowed deeply as he stopped a few feet away.

"Have the tailors brought any of the clothes yet?" Beast demanded, Michel nodded. "Well then, draw a bath and lay out something simple," Beast ordered. Michel perked up slightly and bowed deeply again, rushing off in the direction of the salle de bains to make a toilette for his Master, who sat back down on the bed and almost smiled.

The Prince of Gascogne knew it was up to him now. It's up to Belle.

***

Lumière and Cogsworth stood hesitantly outside the doors to the Master chambers, each one after a moment lifted their hand to knock on the doors, then drew it back. They both eyed each other cautiously.

"Do you think we would be disturbing him? Perhaps it's a little too early?" Cogsworth ventured with a wince. He didn't know if his hearing could handle another close roar from the Master.

Shaking his head, Lumière drew himself up to his full height as he straightened his back, "This is pointless and very cowardly of us, mon ami. I am taking the initiative," he knocked on the doors and a soft baritone, with a slight growl behind it, answered.

"Enter!"

The candelabra and the mantle-clock looked again at each other, they couldn't reach the door handles. "Master, it is Cogsworth and Lumière," Cogsworth called out.

There was a moment of silence, then wooden-sounding footsteps, before the horn-like handle pulled down and Michel opened the door.

"Thank you, Michel," Cogsworth inclined his head as he and Lumière wandered into the cluttered room.

Pushing past a broken chair, Cogsworth cleared his throat as he moved. "Well, Master, Mademoiselle Belle has already had her breakfast and is exercising her horse, (his name is Philippe, by the way,) in the gardens. I thought you might want to..." He trailed off as his gaze finally landed on Beast, who was standing in the middle of the room. The prince was dressed in clean, dark blue breeches and a plain white shirt, and his fur was combed to a sheen.

While Cogsworth stood nearby with his mouth open, Lumière beamed and nudged his counterpart, hopping over towards Beast as Michel wondered over and whipped around a blue cloak, pinning it with a lighter blue broach at the nape of Beast's neck.

"You look magnificent, Master. Perfect for a day of romantic pursuits," the maître d' praised with a flair of his arms, Lumière was much impressed that his former charge was beginning to take control of the situation.

Cogsworth recovered from his initial shock and clasped his grasping hands together with equal delight as he sided up beside Lumière. "Oh yes, splendid! Quite splendid!"

Beast raised his eyebrows with a tired smile, "Thank you, but don't overdo it. I can't even wear a pair of shoes," he pointed out.

Lumière smiled sympathetically, "Oh, do not despair, Master. Soon you will be able to wear footwear again and be quite yourself once more," he reassured the prince, who ran his hand over his face.

"I'm not sure if I remember being human...I was a boy...I don't know what I'll be like now if I transform back," Beast replied, moving out towards the balcony.

Cogsworth looked over at Lumière who shrugged his shoulders. "Don't shrug. He has a point. We've been told we'll be the same, but goodness knows what sort of scars his Highness might carry after he's transformed back, after growing up inside the body of a hunting beast." He muttered to the maître d', who nodded resignedly as they hopped after their master.

Beast moved towards the balcony edge and rested his arms atop the railing. Looking out he could see Belle below as she led her draught horse, (A Belgian, Beast recognised, now he could see the sorrel-coloured horse better in the daylight,) through the snow-covered grounds. She was dressed in a simple, green satin dress, her blue cloak draped about Belle's slender shoulders with the hood pulled up, partially obscuring the young woman's face from this distance.

Lumière and Cogsworth hopped up on the railing beside Beast and looked out from the balcony, both wearing hopeful smiles.

"Oolala, even from this distance she is quite a picture, is she not, Master?" Lumière questioned with a raised eyebrow in Beast's direction. His Master stayed silent, but there was a soft look in Beast's eyes, (that neither the maître d' nor majordome had seen before,) as he looked upon the young woman, who had her tilted head down in contemplation.

"She looks sad," Beast replied non-committally, his voice low and worried. But, as he voiced his concern, the prince-turned-beast saw Belle's horse nudge her with his muzzle and the girl turned around to hold his head in her arms with a small, sweet smile. As she did, Sultan came barrelling through the garden, barking exuberantly as he rushed past Belle and crashed into a snowdrift.

Shaking himself off, the red velvet footstool went dashing back through the snow in Belle's direction, whimpering happily as she knelt down and let him leap into her arms. Belle's hood slipped off her head and she closed her eyes, bursting into a happy laugh as she cuddled Sultan close.

Beast looked down at his bandaged arm. Belle was so gentle and good. He'd never met anyone apart from his family and servants that had ever cared for him as kindly as Belle had nursed him last night. "I've never felt this way about anyone," he admitted softly to Lumière and Cogsworth, the prince perked up. "I want to do something for her." He frowned in thought. What could I do to make her happy?

"But what?" Beast looked over at his servants for advice. They were men with romantic connections. Lumière in particular was always flirting with maids and Cogsworth had always been close with Madame de la Grande Bouche, they must have some sort of suggestions for a present for Belle.

"Well, there's the usual things: flowers, chocolates," Cogsworth numbered off on his left grasping hand, before folding both his grasping hands behind his back. "Promises you don't intend to keep," he added with a muffled chuckle to himself as he closed his eyes.

Beast raised his brow. Why would I make a promise to Belle and then break it on purpose...?

Lumière nudged his counterpart with a knowing glance, "Ah no, no. It has to be something very special," he admonished Cogsworth, who looked over at him with a slight grin as he folded his arms and looked up at the Master who was watching them intently, hanging on every word. "Something that sparks her interest–wait a minute!" The candelabra looked delighted as he figured it out.

"What? What is it?" Beast demanded.

Lumière beamed and pressed his candlestick hands together. "Take her to your father's library. Before Mademoiselle Belle interrupted you last night, we were taking her on a tour of the castle, and when we mentioned the library, she seemed quite excited."

Beast mirrored the smile, (the shock of seeing such a thing nearly sent Cogsworth falling off the balcony railing in surprise.) "Of course! She told me last night she liked to read," he paused, looking over at his maître d'.

"Lumière, do you remember the day of the accident, when we were in the park in Paris on our way to the palace, remember the little girl on the garden bench I talked with? She was Belle, I found out last night. Belle doesn't know that I was the boy she met."

Lumière raised his brow in astonishment, "Well, that is remarkable. I remember it well. I told you to be more genteel with the young ladies, eh?" he glanced over at Cogsworth then looked back up at their Master. "The Enchantress?"

Beast pulled back from the railing and folded his arms, "I expect so...perhaps...I don't know how she may have been watching..." he shook his head. "Never mind. Have Chef Bouche send up something to eat, then inform me when Belle comes back into the castle. I'll show her the library alone," the prince said firmly.

The two head servants bowed and hopped off of the railing, heading back to carry out their Master's orders with more than a bit of a smile.

***

Cogsworth had come rushing into the Master chambers to tell Beast the moment Belle had come back into the castle.

Beast had all but bolted out of his rooms and down the hall, stopping to a skidding halt at the top of the main stairs to straighten himself, and then proceeded to walk slowly down the stairs to the foyer, where one of the coat rack servants was taking Belle's cloak from her.

Belle had seen him skid to a halt and tried to hide a smile.

Beast approached her carefully across the foyer. "Good morning, Belle," he greeted softly.

The brunette mademoiselle looked up at him, with a still wary glint in her light brown eyes, "Good morning Beast," Belle looked him over. "You look well."

Glad for a change for the fur that covered up his blushing, Beast ducked his head, "Thank you. You look very nice too, green suits you," he complimented as best as he could.

Belle looked over the green satin gown with the velvet bodice and shook her head. "I've never worn anything so beautiful in my life, and Madame Bouche has so many lovely gowns. I feel terribly out of sorts wearing such expensive things," she admitted shyly.

Beast shook his head as the Belle looked down at her feet, "You mustn't, really! I insist you wear every dress Madame Bouche offers you," Beast implored sincerely.

The young woman's head snapped up cautiously. "Is that an order?" Belle's voice carried a worried tone that Beast was threatening her again, the prince blushed again.

"No...no it's a request, of course you can just wear your clothes...I was just–"

Belle gave him a small smile, but it wasn't the happy smile Beast had seen in her give in the gardens to the animals. "It's all right," she assured him, giving Beast a moment to compose himself and remember why he was there.

"Oh... Lumière mentioned that he and Cogsworth took you on a tour of the castle last night," Beast put his paws behind his back and tapped them together nervously.

Belle folded her arms, "Well yes. But we didn't quite finish it, I didn't see the northern part of the castle," she admitted. Beast spread his arms a little bit more exuberantly than he intended.

"Well then I shall take you, that is if you'd like me to?" Beast stammered anxiously.

There was a pause between their conversation, before Belle finally unfolded her arms and inclined her head. "Thank you, that would be very kind," the young woman agreed.

Beast rubbed his paws together, he hoped she would like her surprise. I want her so much to feel comfortable here, and, most importantly, comfortable around me. "All right then, let's go," he motioned towards the stairs and Belle set off before him, her delicate green slippered feet making virtually no sound as she scaled up the red velvet carpeted stairs.

Beast stood locked in place and watched Belle's graceful movement with enrapture. I bet that she was a wonderful dancer, the enchanted prince was struck by the sudden thought that he'd love to see Belle dance...

Belle stopped mid-way and turned with a raised eyebrow at the Master of the castle still down in the entrance foyer, blinking her large eyes in question. "Oh, Beast? I thought you were coming..."

The prince stopped his staring and nodded, "Yes, yes I'm coming," he almost tripped on his way up the stairs to where Belle was waiting, the young woman continued to walk to the east of the castle, and Beast trailed after her.

Belle's hair was tied back in a ponytail with a green ribbon in a neat bow. Beast wondered what those soft-looking, brown tresses would feel like in his hands...will I ever have a chance to know?

"We turn up here," Beast directed down a hall. Belle followed his arm movements and soon they were walking down a brightly lit corridor with magnificent, Grecco-Roman-styled marble columns, gliding upwards to an elevated ceiling, the once stunning, delicate mural above of heavenly and mythical creatures was replaced by almost Hellish scenery, and Belle let out a little gasp, lowering her gaze downwards to the walls, Beast refused to raise his gaze upwards, as he had done for years.

All along the long, windowed corridor were elegant oil paintings and portraiture in ornately carved, gold foil frames. Beast had forgotten the paintings in the North Wing were primarily of his family. Ignoring the many landscape paintings, the prince glanced wearily at the paintings of his ancestors, and then the ones of his parents, the paintings of Christine and his long-dead twin sisters...

Belle stopped suddenly at a rather large portrait in a gold filigree frame and stared. "The boy...I'm sure that is the prince I met in Paris, Prince Adam de Gascogne," the girl exclaimed.

Beast stopped in his tracks and sided up beside Belle, looking up at the family portrait painted just outside the castle grounds. He remembered sitting for the portrait only a few months before his family was taken away from him.

Under the autumn foliage, his Maman, (gazing outwards,) was reclining on a sculpted garden bench in a wide, blue and cream gown with delicate lace ruffles adorning the sleeves, and straw, flat crowned hat with a blue ribbon tied around her chin. Christine stood beside her in a floral pink and yellow gown with the same style of hat and curled wig as their maman, but with a pink ribbon. His older sister's stance was sidewards, and her gaze was resting sweetly down at their maman.

His père was dressed in his tan hunting outfit, a black tri-cornered hat with a gold band set atop his grey wig. His stance was relaxed, leaning against the garden bench, with his gaze resting down on his only son. Beast shook his head at the small boy in a miniature of his father's hunting dress, but in blue as his maman had always insisted he wore.

The boy was resting his hand on his maman's knee and looking firmly out from the painting. His astonishing blue eyes glared from his pale features out of the painting.

Yes, Beast remembered having this painting done. I'd never considered how well it was painted, right down to the freshly shot hares and fowl. The green on the head of one of the mallards was exactly how I remember it.

"Portraits nowadays are painted to a romantic ideal. They don't ever really look like the sitters," the prince repeated what Cogsworth had explained once to him.

Belle looked closely at the painting and nodded. "I suppose so. I'm not very knowledgeable about art, still, it is a lovely painting…has it always been here?" The young woman inquired, pressing for information.

Beast gave a non-committal grunt and continued to walk down the hall, looking over his shoulder he saw Belle had halted, and was looking once again at the painting, then she glanced out of the corner of her eye over at him and turned on her heel to follow after, a look of suspicion on her face.

The enchanted prince surmised Belle wasn't going to give up on her investigation any time soon, but already Beast could see Belle wasn't a terribly persistent person. She was curious, perhaps, but patient.

How can she be all these wonderful things? Beast had always struggled with his temper and carried a grudge. Yet Belle, even when annoyed, found it easy to forgive. Even saving his life when he didn't deserve it. Beast must try to be more like that, he could show Belle he wasn't a monster.

Beast looked up at the lofty doors at the end of the hall under a dark blue, gold thread-edged tapestry banner with the Gascogne crest. The prince wondered if Belle knew anything about family crests, but the young woman's attention was on a landscape painting on the nearby wall, it was of the path leading out of the castle.

"I like this one. Is that what the grounds look like in the spring?" Belle inquired, brushing her pale hand against the canvas in marvel, Beast sided up to her and nodded his head, the young woman looked up at him. "I expect I shall see it myself," Beast murmured, pulling back from the painting quickly.

Beast cleared his throat and walked back over to the library doors, motioning to Belle to step forward. Watching on with curiosity, Belle walked over and stopped just behind Beast as he looked over at her kindly.

"Belle, there's something I want to show you," Beast reached over to the gold handle on the right door, he opened it up slightly, then remembered how Christine had liked surprises and games. She'd make him close his eyes then give the prince whatever treat she'd procured, like chocolates, a new toy, sometimes a game she'd invented.

Beast started to close the doors again in a hurry and looked down at Belle who had inquisitively leant forward, "But first, you have to close your eyes," he requested softly, with a smile and a motion of his left paw.

Belle raised an eyebrow cynically, and her full mouth quirked up slightly, caught between a smile of scepticism and caution.

"It's a surprise," Beast insisted again with another insistent wave of his paw and a wider smile.

With a cautious last glance, Belle shut her eyes obediently. The prince grinned in anticipation he hadn't felt in years, she was going to love this gift, he just knew it. He waved his paw in front of her eyes to check if she was peeking.

"No peeking, mon doux amour." Beast could hear his sister's pretty voice.

Biting his lip to hold back his excitement, Beast opened the doors and turned to face Belle, reaching out boldly for her hands...

She let me take them!

The light grasp of those hands made Beast soar deep inside. The happiness shone over his features as he slowly backed into the library, leading Belle across the intricately tiled floor, past the shadowy outline of the two lions atop pedestals on either side of the door-frame, and past the two desks he could remember labouring away his lessons upon. (The one next to the huge globe of the earth still had books open upon it.)

There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere, the servants had seen to that. But it was dimly lit, so Beast couldn't be entirely sure. He wanted it to be perfect for Belle.

Belle had kept her eyes closed, but still seemed a little uneasy. "Can I open them?"

Beast was enjoying holding Belle's hands. Her skin was so soft, and he hadn't felt the touch of a human hand in years since before last night. "No, no, not yet," he insisted. The curtains needed to be open and light let it so Belle could see the huge spectacle that, even as a child who hated books, he'd still been quite impressed by the library.

"Wait here," Beast whispered to Belle, lifting up her hands as he drew to a halt. Beast was loath to take his eyes from the young woman, but reluctantly dropped Belle's hands as he rushed across the room to the windows to open up the heavy, velvet drapes.

Pulling aside the right curtain immediately let the bright winter sunshine through, and when Beast dashed over to open the left curtain, the library was in full illumination from the sunlight. Beast looked around and saw everything was just as he remembered. Every single marble shelf right up to the ceiling was filled with brightly coloured volumes going back hundreds of years. The balconies and the high staircases, the oblique, tall wooden ladders...

It's like going back in time.

The young woman in front of him had felt the warmth of the sunlight and Belle grinned a little wider. "Now can I open them?"

Beast looked down at her with anticipation and smiled broadly, "All right, now," he lifted his paws and motioned to her. I hope she likes it...

Belle's lovely eyes opened up slowly and looking up she let out a little gasp of astonishment and a genuine, enraptured smile graced across her face as she clasped her hands in front of her, wandering around with her head craned upwards with an expression of delight.

"I can't believe it!" Belle exclaimed and Beast smiled in relief. "I've never seen so many books in all my life!"

The prince-turned-beast watched on as Belle twirled around with hesitation. She looked happy. But was it enough that Belle could see he wasn't trying to treat her like a prisoner? That he thought that this was something she genuinely would like as a present?

"You...you like it?" He invoked softly, following around her spinning anxiously. Please tell me you like it.

Belle couldn't take her eyes off the numerous shelves filled with thousands of books. "It's wonderful!" She exclaimed with enchantment, clasping her hands together.

Beast beamed. She liked it. It was time to tell Belle the good news, he decided the moment he'd seen her light up at the sight of the library, he hoped she would accept his gift. "Then it's yours!" He granted with a wide smile he'd never worn before.

Belle looked up at Beast and grabbed his paws in her hands, which were so tiny in comparison. "Oh, thank you so much!" She gratefully squeezed his paws and Beast blushed under his fur.

No one had ever thanked him so genuinely for anything before, and the enrapture on Belle's beautiful face when she'd seen the library for the very first time, was a memory he knew he'd carry with him always.

"Can I pick a book to read right now?" Belle was as giddy as a child and Beast laughed, caught up in her excitement.

"Of course, they are all yours," the enchanted prince assured the young woman.

Letting out a small laugh of disbelief, Belle shook her head, "You can't give away an entire library to someone." She replied. "I'm sure you meant that I could come in here anytime-"

"I know what I said." Beast interrupted gently, folding his arms. "I'm the Master of this Castle, this library is mine, and I am free to give it to whomever I want, if I say the library is yours, it is."

Belle's smile grew even wider if that were possible, "This is...thank you, I...don't know if I fully understand, but...thank you. May I?" Belle motioned to the collection and Beast nodded and motioned her encouragingly, Belle inclined her head before practically skipping over to one of the lower shelves to peruse the rows of books.

Beast let out a sigh of relief, Belle had accepted his gift. That was another very important step. Now he needed to spend all the time possible with the young woman to learn everything about her, to let Belle come to understand him. He followed Belle's movements scanning all the books at her eye level, then he watched as she craned her neck upwards and let out a happy cry.

"I don't believe it, Le Morte d'Arthur," Belle pointed upward eagerly and glanced over her shoulder at Beast.

"Could you get it down for me?"

Beast nodded and sided up to Belle, reaching up over her head to pull down the old, brown leather-bound book with gilded edges from the shelf. "Here you are," he handed it to her, and the young woman happily took the book and held it tightly to her chest.

"I haven't seen this book since I was a little girl. It isn't fashionable to read, and it hasn't been reprinted in over a hundred years, fancy that! And here you have had it hidden away," Belle tutted, and Beast tilted his head to the side as Belle continued to explain. "It is about King Arthur and Sir Lancelot and the rest of the knights of the round table, the Holy Grail, and Queen Guinevere, and Tristan and Isolde..." Belle gazed down at the book fondly.

Beast scratched his head, "I think I remember it a little," he thought it might have been something his father had read to him at some point. "Would you...like to read it to me?" Beast inquired hesitantly. He hadn't had anyone read to him since he was eight, and he couldn't quite remember how to read himself.

Belle looked up from her musing and her eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled, "I would love to. It is the least I can do for you giving me all this," she held the book in her right arm as she waved with her left around the library.

Beast offered her his arm and Belle placed her free hand on his upper arm gently and allowed him to lead her to a pair of plush, pale blue chairs.

Helping her down into one of the chairs, Beast took the opposite chair and pulled it closer to her, leaning forward eagerly.

The young woman rested the book across her lap and pulled it open, running her finger down the first page. "Chapter one: How Uther Pendragon sent for the Duke of Cornwall and Igraine his wife, and of their departing suddenly again," she cleared her throat and began in her sweet, clear voice.

"Il a advenir aux jours d'Uther Pendragon, quand il était le roi de toute…"

Thank you for reading.

Chapter Text

...Nay, said Arthur. Now, said Sir Ector to Arthur, I understand ye must be king of this land. Wherefore I, said Arthur, and for what cause? Sir, said Ector, for God will have it so, for there should never man have drawn out this sword, but he that shall be right wise king of this land. Now let me see whether ye can put the sword there as it was and pull it out again. That is no mastery, said Arthur, and so he put it in the stone, wherewithal Sir Ector assayed to pull out the sword and failed..."

Beast snorted, "That's because Arthur is the true king," he interrupted with a slight sneer at the words of Sir Ector. Belle lifted her head from the heavy book on her lap and the Prince looked sheepish, he had remembered that part at least...or he thought he did.

"Well, it's true...isn't it?"

The young woman raised her left eyebrow and smiled indulgently. "You'll just have to wait and see," she almost teased him, and Beast folded his arms, leaning back on his chair with a resigned snort as he waited for Belle to continue. The mademoiselle cleared her throat and began to read the next part.

"Now assay said Sir Ector unto Sir Kay. And anon he pulled at the sword with all his might, but it would not be. Now shall ye assay, said Sir Ector to Arthur. I will well, said Arthur, and pulled it out easily. And therewithal Sir Ector knelt down to the earth, and Sir Kay. Alas, said Arthur, my own dear father and brother, why kneel ye to me? Nay, nay, my lord Arthur, it is not so, I was never your father nor of your blood, but I wot well ye are of a higher blood than I weened ye were..."

"Ah-ha!" Beast interrupted with a satisfied cry that nearly made Belle fall off her chair. "I was right, Arthur is the king," he pointed at her gleefully.

The young woman tucked a strand of her hair back into her ponytail and chuckled a little as well, "Well now we've established that shall I go on?" she pressed her hands together and Beast inclined his head. He'd forgotten that books could be thrilling, and not dreary, boring lines of words stacked atop one another, and to hear them read in Belle's beautiful voice was both soothing and exciting at the same time.

Belle continued to read up until the seventh chapter, "...there was he sworn unto his lords and the commons for to be a true king, to stand with true justice from thenceforth the days of this life. Also, then he made all lords that held of the crown to come in, and to do service, as they ought to do..."

"...he overcame them all, as he did the remnant, through the noble prowess of himself and his Knights of the Round Table." Belle closed the book and Beast smiled, as he let the last imagined thought of brave Arthur surrounded by his many loyal knights fade away.

"I enjoyed that very much, thank you, Belle," Beast rested his head on his clenched paw as he watched Belle place the book down on the table beside her. "I remember being very fond of stories about kings and knights, Arthur seems most inspiring. I'm excited to find out what happens next…if you will read a little more to me tomorrow?" Beast ventured hopefully.

She will read to me again, won't she?

Belle folded her hands on her lap, "Of course, I'd be glad to. Arthur has much ahead of him. Kings and rulers often do. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown..." she murmured knowingly.

Beast paused, he'd never heard that phrase before. "I have never heard that saying before, where is it from? What is it about?"

"It is from Shakespeare's Henry IV. Part II. It means that a person with great responsibilities, such as a king, is constantly worried," Belle patiently explained. The prince-turned-beast looked further lost and the young woman folded her arms. "A good example is our former King Louis who has had his throne taken from him," she mentioned.

Beast's eyes widened, "How? When? How is that possible?" He had been cut off from the outside world for so long without a messenger or invitation from Paris. He'd just thought the Enchantress had had something to do with that, he'd not realised something else might be afoot.

The young woman opposite him looked surprised for a moment, then realised. "Oh...Louis and Marie Antoinette have been put under house arrest in Palais des Tuileries. It's uncertain what the revolutionaries have planned for them. I do feel sorry for their children, and for them also. Marie Antoinette was never very popular with the people of Paris and they feared she was controlling Louis' actions when he was ill. I believe they want to depose of the monarchy and the noble rule."

Beast was surprised. Queen Marie Antoinette, dressed in colourful gowns and jewels, had always been so kind to him and sweetly spoken. The queen loved children and was always surrounded by entertaining things. "I had heard it spoken that Queen Marie was very gregarious," he murmured. Belle raised her eyebrow again and the enchanted prince noticed, clearing his throat.

"It must be quite late. Cogsworth! Lumière!" Beast roared out.

Almost immediately there was a small shuffling sound and the call out of: "Yes, Master, we are coming, post-haste!"

After a moment, the enchanted mantle-clock came skidding to a halt beside Beast's chair. Lumière arrived at a more leisurely speed and sided up next to his panting counterpart, glancing between Belle and Adam with a smile.

"Yes Master, how can we be of..." Cogsworth took in a deep breath, "...service?"

Beast motioned to Belle, "Take Belle for her noon-time meal, Cogsworth, then return. I need to discuss something with both Lumière and you," he ordered. The young woman stood up from the chair and folded her arms with a curious look.

"Are you going to join me?" Belle questioned, Beast looked blank. "For the meal?"

The prince hesitated, he was quite shy about his eating habits. "Perhaps another time. Thank you, Belle," Beast declined with an apologetic smile. Belle nodded her head and Cogsworth motioned towards the door.

"Right this way, Mademoiselle. I will return soon, Master," Cogsworth bowed and Belle shot Beast a small smile before following the majordome across the huge room. Beast turned around in his chair to watch the young woman depart, his eyes affixed on her gentle swaying form as she exited the library.

"There is something so perfect in how she moves, almost like she's an ethereal being, not really there at all," Beast murmured to Lumière.

The candelabra was wearing a smug, knowing expression as he folded his arms. "I told you many years ago there were such women in the world. Mademoiselle Belle is truly enchanting and intelligent, she...she suspects something, Master?" He questioned Beast, who had turned back around and was wearing a serious frown.

"I think she does. But Belle hasn't said anything yet. I want to tell her, but then she might feel obligated and the Enchantress might not approve of that. Make sure you remind the rest of the staff not to let on about anything," Beast directed.

Lumière nodded as the prince shook his head.

"But that is not why I'm upset. Belle has told me there is a revolution going on in Paris, against my Great-Uncle Louis and the rest of the nobility."

Lumière's eyes widened. "Mon Dieu... I know that the people had been taxed terribly. I think your father suspected a revolt, he always spoke of the possibility of having to plan for such a scenario, but... Mademoiselle Belle is quite certain?"

Beast nodded his head and folded his arms, looking aside. "Belle explained that is why she and her father left Paris because there were already rumblings about such an event coming to pass. There is a strong possibility they will have Louis and the monarchy deposed," he mentioned.

Looking up at his Master, Lumière folded his own arms firmly in resolve. "I want you to know, your Highness, if such an event comes to arise, I will never desert you. You will always have a loyal friend in myself," Lumière bowed deeply and a small smile passed across Beast's face.

"Thank you, Lumière. I think sometimes you are far too good to have to suffer through this with me. I haven't been very kind these past years," the prince apologised.

Lumière smiled forgivingly. "It is all right, your Highness," the maître d' replied kindly. "This curse has been a terrible blow, and you have had to go through your most formative years trapped within another form," Lumière inwardly sighed as he looked the contemplative Beast over. At last, Belle's arrival is also having an impact on him mentally, I think he's finally growing out of temper tantrums...

When Cogsworth returned, Beast repeated what he had disclosed to Lumière and the mantle-clock looked quite flustered.

"Good heavens! Even if the spell is broken, we will face many trials."

Beast got to his feet and clasped his hands behind his back as he walked over to the open window, looking outside into the snowy grounds where some grounds-keepers-turned-shovels were clearing away some heavy drifts from the pathways. "Perhaps not," he said only just loud enough for his majordome and maître d' to hear him, as they followed him over to the window.

"Is there something else you know, Master?" Lumière, looking up at the hulking prince, inquired curiously.

"Yes," Beast inclined his head, dipping it low so that his chin almost touched his furry chest. "Belle informed me that the villagers in Tarbes believe the castle to be abandoned because they haven't seen me in ten years. We might yet be safe here for the time being," he revealed.

Cogsworth sighed in relief and Lumière narrowed his brow. "Well, I suppose that is all we can look forward to, being safe for the time being." The majordome murmured.

"Now, Master," Lumière changed the subject. "Belle seemed very happy, and you spent a long time in here, any progress?"

Beast blushed under his fur as he looked down at his servants. "Progress? Oh...ah...she...read to me from one of her favourite books...is that good?" He questioned.

The mantle-clock and candelabra chuckled, but immediately put on comforting smiles when they saw the displeased and embarrassed look on their master's disfigured face.

"Well...yes, she spent time with you and let you into her world by sharing one of her favourite books. That is wonderful progress," Lumière agreed confidently, Beast perked up and Cogsworth nodded his agreement. "Now you have an excuse for her to spend more time with you, which is an important first step."

Beast folded his arms, "Good...oh and by the by, this entire library is now Belle's," he informed his surprised servants, who blinked over at one another, before glancing back up at Beast, who shrugged his shoulders. "I'm the Master of the castle, I can give away a whole room if I please."

Lumière nodded his head, inwardly hiding a smile, Bonté, caught between boy and man still. He reminds me of his père at times and other times he's still that stubborn little creature I had to pull out from under tables at the salon...

***

For the next week and a half Beast only really saw Belle in the mid-morning, when she consented to read a little more Le Morte d'Arthur to him, otherwise only watching her quietly from his balcony in the grounds, or seeing her in passing in the castle, exchanging only small greetings.

However, one morning, the enchanted Prince drew up his courage and decided to join Belle for breakfast.

Awaking early and after he bathed, Beast had Michel bring in a newly made, fine green silk coat embellished with gold edges. He wore it over a fine white shirt and black breeches. Beast's valet expertly tied the cravat and pined it, then did up the simple gold cord across Beast's chest. Michel used a brush over the coat to make sure there were no creases and surveyed the effect with a pleased nod of his wooden head.

Arriving in the dining room, Mrs Potts was already laying out a place for Belle with two of the kitchen maids and her youngest son, her blue eyes widened with delighted surprise at the sight of her former charge dressed and looking uncomfortable, but trying to be confident.

"Why, good morning, Master," Mrs Potts turned to the sugar bowl. "Jacqueline, will you go to the china cupboard and send in another place setting for his highness," the teapot turned back to Beast as Jacqueline hopped back on the rolling cart and headed back to the kitchen. "I hope the day finds you well, Master?"

Beast nodded and fiddled with his right sleeve cuff as he walked over to the table, "Yes, thank you Mrs Potts. I hope you are well also," the prince replied, the teapot nodded, and Chip blinked up at their Master with a smile. "And how are you, Chip?"

With an enthusiastic smile, the teacup hopped closer to Beast. "I'm great! Belle took me for a ride on Philippe yesterday and he goes really fast, Footstool couldn't keep up with us. I wanted my brothers and sisters to come, but they don't want to leave the kitchen because..." Chip trailed off and Mrs Potts intervened, even though Beast knew very well why the children wouldn't leave.

"Now, now, your brothers and sisters don't have to come out if they don't want to," Mrs Potts looked softly up at the Master. "Miss Belle is presently dressing. Would you like me to bring you out something before she arrives?"

The prince-turned-beast shook his head, "No, I'll wait for Belle, thank you," he walked over to the windows and, unclasping his paws, pulled back the rose-coloured drapes to look outside for a while. Was it his imagination or were the perpetual mists that surround the forest beginning to lift slightly? Beast folded his arms.

I'm so nervous…no, scratch that, I'm beyond mere nerves…

"Good morning, Beast."

The enchanted ruler shut his eyes for the briefest second, revelling in the sound of the young mademoiselle's voice before turning around slowly and bowing stiffly. "Good morning, Belle," Beast lifted his blue eyes to linger over the woman. She was dressed in a pink silk gown with chiffon ruffles on the sleeves, and chiffon also adorning the neckline and hem, her bodice was a darker pink satin.

Beast smiled, for however lovely Belle had looked in green and in blue, Belle's beauty seemed only magnified by the colour pink, (the prince blushed to think how Belle would look outside of the beautiful clothing she'd been wearing...)

The young woman curtsied and allowed Beast to lead her to a chair. As Belle sat down, the Beast pushed her chair gently and rushed over to the other end of the table to sit down, so he could continue his gazing at her. The kitchen trolley was brought in and two piping hot bowls of porridge were placed on the table, one in front of Belle and the other in front of Beast.

After the sugar and milk were added to his bowl of porridge, Beast waited for Jacqueline and Amiee to hop over to attend to Belle's breakfast. As soon as the young woman had delicately lifted her spoon from the bowl, Beast dove into his bowl of porridge head-first. He stopped his gorging and lifted his head only when he heard a shocked gasp from across the table.

Belle's gaze was resting on him with shock and the prince realised, (as he swallowed the large amount of porridge that had been puffing out his cheeks and dribbling down his chin,) that he had been eating the wrong way. Beast went to wipe his mouth on his sleeve and, looking down, he saw Chip smile kindly up at him and nudge forward a silver spoon encouragingly, as Mrs Potts looked fondly on her sweet son's instant reaction.

Lunging out clumsily, Beast picked up the piece of cutlery and dipped it into the porridge, attempting to slurp the contents into his jowls and failing miserably. Placing the spoon back down on the table, the enchanted prince miserably looked down at the object, then glanced up in fear of what Belle's reaction now would be.

Then he saw the young woman had lifted up her bowl and was smiling kindly, and Beast smiled in a heart-warming fashion in return. She understands... Beast thought, lifting up his own bowl and they toasted each other before drinking their breakfast in comfortable silence.

Once they were done with the porridge, Mrs Potts poured tea into Chip for Belle and Beast helped himself to some of the freshly made baguette. (Mrs Potts accordingly noted that the Prince didn't eat the baguette plain and was liberally spreading butter and currant jam heavily on the bread.)

"So, Belle," Beast spoke up as he placed the knife back down and took a much more sensible bite than usual of the baguette. "What are your plans for today?"

Belle took a sip of tea and lifted her dark brown eyebrows thoughtfully.

"I thought I would go for a walk around the gardens, perhaps feed the poor little birds in this weather, before the heavy snow arrives," Belle revealed as she held Chip between her hands. Beast nodded as he finished off the baguette and brushed the crumbs out of his furry chin, the young woman lent forward.

"Would you like to join me?"

Beast lifted up his head and his blue eyes sparkled, "Oh...oh yes, yes I would be happy to join you, Belle," he looked like he was fit to burst with delight and Chip looked over at his mother to see her smiling with pure joy at the simple exchange.

The little tea cup frowned and looked up at Belle, "Can I come too, Belle? Pretty plea—"

Mrs Potts jumped in, "Oh you have no time for that, Chip. There are chores to be done, and you need a bath. Good morning Master, Miss Belle," the teapot nudged her protesting son onto the trolley. Amiee and Jacqueline bowed to Beast and Belle before also hopping on the enchanted cart that drove them back towards the kitchen, Chip complaining loudly about yet another bath as they left.

Belle got to her feet and Beast stood up quickly after she did so, memories of proper etiquette slowly starting to come back to him. "I will go put on a cloak and meet you beside the back of the kitchen door," she gave a quick curtsey and Beast, still wearing a silly grin, nodded, as Belle gave him a last small smile before exiting the room.

At last, Beast thought, rubbing his paws together. I have a chance to be alone with Belle outside of the library...but feeding birds...? He furrowed his furry brow in thought. I've never done such a thing, don't birds gather their own food?

Hurrying back to his chambers, Beast pulled off his soiled coat, brushed the crumbs from his fur and pulled out a deep purple cape, wrapping it about his shoulders, he pinned it with the broach holding his cravat and brushed off his breeches. Letting out a deep sigh, the prince straightened his shoulders and headed back downstairs.

Beast's uneasy footsteps out of the castle door eventually turned into nervous pacing outside of the kitchen door as he waited for Belle, the snow crunching under his foot pads as he paced. Finally, the door opened, and Belle emerged, draped in a scarlet, woollen, white fur-lined cloak he remembered very well. It was the last Christmas present Christine had received from their parents.

But for some reason, the cloak seemed so right on Belle, the dark reddish-pink colour contrasting with her pale skin and brown eyes quite perfectly.

Belle smiled kindly at Beast, as she delicately stepped down the few stone stairs. Her dainty hands were holding the folds of her skirt and Beast looked down to see a pile of breadcrumbs she was holding in the folds. Stepping past him with her gentle, swaying step, Belle moved on ahead and Beast clasped his hands behind his back, following Belle across the snowy grounds.

The sun was out, making the pale, powdery snow appear to be glistening, Belle lifted her head, "I can hear some birds," she announced.

Beast looked up and saw, sure enough, there were tiny little colourful birds encircling, chirping and whistling as they glided overhead.

"It must be nice to be able to fly away as they do," Beast murmured.

Belle looked back at him with a confused, almost touched, expression as she moved a little bit further and then reached into the folds of her dress and began sprinkling out the breadcrumbs for the birds, they swooped down and began eagerly pecking the ground. Beast guessed they were hungry after all.

Smiling, Belle looked up as Beast moved to her side, "Hold out your hands," she whispered. Beast gave her a confused smile, but duly held out his paws and the young woman poured some of the breadcrumbs into his cupped paws.

The prince supposed he was expected to feed the birds. With a wider smile, Beast moved to squat down and offer the food to the little birds that were hovering at their feet, the birds cocked their little black eyes up at him and he blinked. Eyeing the birds off nervously, Beast lunged out with his paws and they flew off, landing a few feet away.

Beast furrowed his brow with a determined expression. He was going to impress Belle and these little birds would co-operate... Well, they are hungry, aren't they?

Waddling after them, Beast offered another smile and thrust out his cupped paws again, but the birds again jumped back in fright and he frowned. This isn't working out well... Beast heard soft footsteps and Belle was at his side, she smiled comfortingly and knelt down beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder and reaching over, the young mademoiselle pulled down Beast's arms.

Opening Beast's cupped paws slightly, Belle reached down and sprinkled some of the breadcrumbs in the direction of the little birds.

A little blue tit had jumped forward on his tiny claws and pecked at the food on the ground, before cocking his little black eye in the direction of the pile of breadcrumbs in Beast's grasp and hopping into Beast's paws, pecking away at the breadcrumbs merrily.

Beast's mouth dropped open in delighted surprise, the little bird trusted him! He lifted his paws and cupped them together slightly closer, he looked up at Belle with a smile and the young woman pulled back and rested her hands on her knees, her brown eyes twinkling at him with kindness, and Beast sighed.

She looked kindly at me, and she didn't shudder at touching my paw! He thought in wonder as Belle's right hand rested atop of his arm as she got to her feet, a little red bird landing on her outstretched left hand.

The young woman went walking away with the little bird resting on her fingers and Beast glanced away. No, it can't be...but then... he dared to look back over at Belle, Beast blinked his blue eyes in surprise as he saw Belle looking back at him as the red bird flew away once more, her brown eyes resting on him with a strange expression in them.

Was it...was something there? Belle's never looked at me that way before...could she be feeling something too?

Belle rested her hand on the trunk of a nearby oak tree and gave him a worrying glance before darting behind the tree. Beast blinked a couple of times, then he heard chirping, lots and lots of chirping. Looking around the prince saw what must be nearly all the little birds in the garden flocking around him, and they landed all over Beast's furry frame, the majority in his paws vying for the breadcrumbs.

Beast looked around and to the side of him in surprise, then suddenly, the birds flew off and he looked over at where he could see Belle, beside the tree holding something. He gave her a beaming smile then… he felt a cold, wet thud in the middle of his face.

The prince blinked his eyes as the wet substance, a pile of snow, dripped off his face, The Beast looked with a raised brow at the culprit.

The young woman was giggling at him and Beast smirked at Belle's laughter. Ah-ha! Two can play at that game! He reached down with both paws and started to pile the snow into a huge snowball, he raised it above his head and aimed it at the petite Belle. But before Beast could hurl it in Belle's direction, yet another snowball came flying from her direction and landed splat on his face yet again. Beast landed with a thud on the ground, firmly on his behind, and his huge snowball went crashing down on top of his head.

Shaking off the snow, Beast jumped to his feet and revelled in the sound of Belle's laughter as he mockingly chased after her. She disappeared behind the tree trunk and Beast peered around the other side, before hearing Belle's voice.

"Look out behind you!"

Making the mistake of looking in Belle's direction, Beast felt another snowball land on him, and he stomped his foot. "Hey! that's not fair, come back here!" He called out as Belle jumped away from the tree and rushed across the snow, giggling.

Beast trailed after the young woman with a wide smile, he'd never played games like this before. Despite his mother encouraging him to join in games with the servants' children, Beast had always tried to act like a refined miniature of his dignified father.

But watching Belle rush away from him with her hair streaming out behind her and a flush on her lovely features, sent a sensation of thrill and abandonment of such silly snobbery. Beast would always carry the memory of the twinkle in Belle's brown eyes as she every so often looked over her shoulder at him teasingly, her wool-lined booties making light indentations in the snow as she ran.

Perhaps if he'd been paying more attention to where his heavy paws were making much bigger indentations in the snow, Beast might have seen the small, dead branch in the snow ground Belle had avoided, and not gone flying through the air and land a few feet behind Belle.

"Yaaah—oof!" The prince yelled out in surprise as he landed on the powdery snow with a soft thump.

Shaking off the wet crumbling ice, Beast tried to hold back a smile as Belle laughingly made her way back to him and knelt beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

The young woman's voice still held concern, and Beast nodded with a raised brow in Belle's direction. "Nothing bruised, only my pride," he made an attempt at humour. Embarrassed, Beast thumped his head back down onto the snowy ground, as Belle held her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh at the expression on the furry features of the enchanted prince.

Belle then looked down at him quintessentially with her light-brown gaze, her hand still resting on Beast's shoulder and that desirable flush still gracing her cheeks.

God, Beast thought with a pang of longing. If only she knew how much I wish I could pull her close and kiss those lips, kiss every part of her...

"Well," Belle's teasing voice interrupted Beast's thoughts. "Luckily pride is something that is easily bruised and soon healed, here," she got to her feet and offered him her delicate hand.

Raising his torso Beast snorted and smiled a little as he engulfed Belle's tiny hand in his massive paw and jumped to his feet. As he brushed off the snow from his broad shoulders, Beast watched Belle turned her gaze to the stables, she glanced up at him with a smile.

"Would you like to meet Philippe properly?"

Beast nodded his head as he clasped his hands behind his back, "Yes, that sounds very nice," he said awkwardly. Belle grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of the stables. The enchanted prince tried to keep a silly grin off his face as they walked up the well-worn path, and he pushed open the wooden gate with his free hand.

Belle rushed forward to a large stall, where her flaxen-maned, chestnut Belgian had his large head over the stall door he was enclosed in. The gentle creature let out a happy nickering to see his mistress. Belle engulfed Philippe's muzzle with her slender armed embrace, and stroked her horse's nose lovingly, speaking softly to him.

Giving Belle a moment with her animal, Beast looked into the other stalls to see the saddle-rack his father's stallion had been turned into, peering over the top of his stall at his late owner's son.

Bacchus let out a snort and sniffed Beast's outstretched hand. Recognising his scent, the once powerful Friesian stallion let Beast pat him and, (lost in memory about how much time he'd spent in the stable after his family's death,) Beast didn't hear Belle side up next to him, looking at the black saddle-rack with a confused expression.

"Who is this?" Belle was used to the enchanted objects by now, but apart from Sultan and the kitchen cat Coussin (turned into an orange cushion,) hadn't met any other animals.

Beast glanced down at her in surprise, "Oh...this is Bacchus, he was my father's favourite hor—he was my father's," he corrected. If Beast didn't know better, he could have sworn Bacchus gave him a derisive glare, despite having no visible eyes.

Belle tentatively reached up to the large saddle-rack and offered her hand, the fiery stallion had lost none of his friendly nature and sniffed her hand gently, blowing on it a couple of times before nodding his head. Belle laughed and the laughter attracted several other racks, who had once been horses, to peer out of their stall, and quite a few of the grooms turned into pitchforks and shovels, came out of hiding to watch, with blinking surprise, at their prince, who was joining in with the young woman's gaiety.

Beast was distracted by a soft whinny from the stall next door and looked down over the stall at the grey mounting-stool leaning against her stall door. "Diamant," he whispered softly.

The highly-strung creature had only had a handful of visits since her master had been turned into a Beast, but she still knew him and stomped her delicate stool feet with dismay. Belle followed Beast to the stall and looked down at the rather large mounting stool, the horse snorted at Belle and turned her back.

Beast had to hide a laugh as the young woman looked shocked, and then he quickly remembered that Belle loved horses, so it really wasn't that funny.

"Pay no attention to Diamant, Belle, she's always been snooty around strangers. That might be why you haven't seen her, or the others before, this one likes to spread rumours," Beast found himself teasing. The horse appeared to note the teasing in her master's voice and half-turned to whinny at him as Belle laughed.

"Oh well, then we will have to become friends," Belle replied mildly, offering her hand to the flighty creature, who backed further into her stall and snorted again. "She is very jealous. Is she yours?" She cocked her head to the side as Beast shook his head.

"She was my sister's, but she gave Diamant to me because she said our tempers were alike, we understand each other," Beast mentioned as the memory of the full conversation with his sister came back to him.

But Belle didn't question further and throwing a last hopeful glance at the grey mounting-stool, she took Beast's paw. "Come, I'll introduce you to Philippe," the mademoiselle led him to her heavy horse.

The large brown eyes of Philippe blinked uncertainly at him as Beast offered his paw, and the horse sniffed it cautiously.

Leaning forward Beast blew gently into Philippe's nostrils to calm him and stroked his muzzle gently, the horse snorted and stood still, letting the enchanted prince reach up to stroke the top of his head.

Belle watched the exchange with quiet surprise, "I didn't think...I mean, you're very good with horses."

Beast almost smiled and looked aside at the young woman, "A man I once knew, a capitaine, he taught me all he knew about horses. He was the best horseman in the land," he patted Philippe's neck and pulled back.

Belle folded her arms. "Did you ever have a horse or pony of your own?"

There was a pause and Beast clasped his hands behind his back, "Yes I had a few ponies, and a horse, an Arabian called Tonnerre," he admitted, there was a glint in Belle's eyes as if she had figured out something, but Beast continued talking regardless. "He was a present on my eighth birthday, the same year my sister received Diamant."

"What happened to him?" The young woman had picked up the unsteady tone in Beast's voice, and the prince sighed heavily and sat down on a bale of hay, picking out one of the straws and fiddling with it in his paws.

"I wasn't very kind to him. I thought he was supposed to be devoted to me no matter how I treated him, I never said a kind word to him or gave him any treats. I used to let the grooms take care of his husbandry, Tonnerre grew very unhappy," Beast swallowed. "I opened the stall to lead him out one day, and he escaped into the forest. I never saw him again," he tossed away the straw in frustration.

"I used to go out on my balcony and look for him every night. My sister gave me Diamant for this reason, besides my sister not being able to control her."

Belle tucked her skirts underneath her and sat down beside him, she nodded, "I understand. I had a little canary once that I begged my father for, then I begged him to let me carry him home from the market. I tripped on our way home and fell, and the cage burst open and he flew away. I cried so much, and I prayed to blessed Jesu to send back my little bird," she looked down at her folded hands resting on her lap.

"Then the strangest thing happened, the little bird flew back and sat on top of my head."

Beast cracked a smile and Belle nudged him playfully.

"The Lord hears the smallest of our prayers."

Cocking his head and looking down at the sweet young woman beside him, Beast nodded, "Yes. I'm starting to believe that he does," he said thoughtfully.

Belle gave him a smile with a little hint of a blush and looked down at her feet. "So Diamant was once a horse, wasn't she? So were Bacchus and the other creatures who act like horses, just like Sultan and Coussin were a dog and cat, weren't they?"

With a worried frown, Beast turned away and looked straight ahead. He couldn't tell her anything, even if she had guessed right. Still, this silence was maddening.

He wanted to tell her everything, but he couldn't be with her like this.

Belle needed a man, not a beast incapable of loving her in many ways, and Beast knew he must measure patience as Mrs Potts told him years ago. The spell could be broken, he mustn't interfere.

But, then again, Belle shouldn't be deprived of a little of the truth.

"Yes," the prince admitted quietly.

Belle cocked her head to the side.

"Are you enchanted as well, Beast?"

Those five simple words coupled with his assumed name shook the prince deeply, and he swiftly changed the subject. "Your hands are turning blue, we should retire inside. You promised to start reading Hamlet to me," Beast reminded her.

Belle looked up at him sharply, then her gaze softened slightly. "Yes, I did, didn't I?" She allowed Beast to help her to her feet and guide her out of the stable, her narrowed brown eyes looking up at him every so often, there was a glint of determination in those eyes that worried Beast a little.

***

Beast escorted Belle, clutching a green bound book, into the sitting room where a roaring fire was lighting up with a merry glow, he reached over to unlatch Belle's cloak and placed it on a rack. Beast didn't spare a glance at the bust of his father as a young man above it near the mantle, his attention too preoccupied with Belle, who had settled down on the fine rug in front of the fire, spreading out her pink gown around her.

Eagerly, the prince sat down beside the young woman and edged a little closer as Belle pulled the book on her lap and opened it up.

"You're going to love this one. Have you ever read Shakespeare before?" The mademoiselle queried, Beast shook his head.

"Then we should start with the best. Hamlet is a Prince of Denmark and a very confused young man, it has murder most foul and intrigue and romance and madness and sword fights. You'll love it," Belle assured him, Beast nodded fervently, and Belle began to read once again to him.

Thank you for reading, the next chapter will be up soon.

Chapter Text

Three days before Christmas, Beast was engaging in a task most enjoyable, guiding Belle through the castle. He wanted to show her where the chamber musicians were currently residing.

Belle had mentioned in passing at breakfast, that she had learnt to play the harp from an old blind man who rented the room above her father's house in Paris but had never owned a harp before.

Excitedly Beast knew this was something sure to please Belle again, perhaps charm her towards him ever more so she would fall in love with him the way he was starting to fall for her. In his enthusiasm, Beast started to almost run down the halls and Belle grabbed tighter onto his paw so as not to tumble over the skirts of her blue and golden yellow gown and onto the fine carpet.

"Why do we have to run?" Belle inquired with a laugh at her captor who was slowly turning into a friendly acquaintance. Beast looked down at her with a wide smile and shook his head. "Is it another surprise? An even bigger library this time, perhaps?" She teased.

Beast shook his head again as Belle reached up with her free hand to tuck back into her ponytail strands of her hair that had fallen out, "No. Something even better," he assured her.

The bright-eyed Beast's childlike exuberance was contagious for the young woman being guided by the red-cloaked enchanted prince, and Belle increased her pace as well as they both laughed, one in anticipation, the other in surprise at that this was the same creature that had terrified her and imprisoned her almost a month previously.

Reaching the room, Beast pushed open the door and dozens of bright, welcoming eyes greeted the arriving pair in the semi-darkness.

"Bonjour, your Highness. Bonjour, Mademoiselle Belle." There was a chorus of voices and Beast smiled at Belle before rushing over to the covered curtains and throwing them open, letting the light come streaming into the small chamber.

Revealed at last were the various instruments and other enchanted object players of music, assembled and shining, in a semi-circle, placed in front of them two wooden chairs were laid out and the entire place was spotless, the castle servants had been quite diligent.

"My goodness! Bonjour," Belle greeted the assembled instruments in astonishment.

Beast rushed back over to take Belle's arm and introduce her to some of the instruments, and the other enchanted objects. "This is Michel, my valet," Beast introduced the coat rack with the violin, who bowed deeply, Belle inclined her head and Beast introduced the next few instruments he knew the names of, the ones he didn't know introduced themselves to Belle. "And this is my compositeur, Maestro de Majestueux," the silver flute on the composer's stand bowed.

"And this is Monsieur Ficelle de Harpe," Beast introduced the large golden harp with a golden human figurehead, draped in a robe like an Ancient Greek, to Belle, her eyes widened as the golden figurehead on the instrument smiled kindly.

"The Master has inquired on his behalf if you would consent to play me. He says you have skill with the harp," Ficelle invited.

Belle looked surprised and smiled up at Beast, who was looking anxiously at her. "If you do not mind yourself Monsieur Ficelle de Harpe, I would be most pleased to do so," she agreed and walked over to sit down on the stool beside the instrument. Beast sat down on one of the elaborate chairs in front of the young woman and swished his tail happily.

Pausing for a moment, Belle looked over the assembled musicians and blushed a little, "I really don't know what to play," she thought for a moment, then looked over at Maestro de Majestueux. "Do you know Greensleeves?"

The Maestro nodded his head, "Of course, Mademoiselle," he tapped his metal head on the top of the stand and the instruments began softly and Belle gently plucked the strings in time with their playing. Beast began to hum in tune, and Belle looked up in astonishment as she saw the enchanted Prince mouthing words that slowly became soft whispers in English of all languages.

"…delighting in your company, Greensleeves you…" Beast trailed off when he saw Belle had stopped plucking the harp and was studying him with a cautious gaze as the rest of the musicians also halted their playing. "Belle? Why did you stop?"

The young woman rested her hands on the top of Ficelle with a raised eyebrow, "I didn't know there were any lyrics for Greensleeves. Do you speak English?" She changed her language to English, and Beast nodded his head, the memories of other languages had been slowly coming back to him.

"A little. I used to be almost fluent in it," the enchanted prince replied, in unknowingly perfect English. Belle raised her eyebrows further and Beast swiftly changed the subject. "Mrs Potts," Beast switched back to French to answer Belle's other question, "taught me English practically from the cradle. She taught me the words to Greensleeves long ago."

Belle watched Beast nervously rest his paws on his knees, and tilted her head to the side. "Would you sing them for me?" She invoked softly, Beast shook his head and the young woman persisted. "Oh please?"

Beast looked sadly at Belle, "I have a terrible voice."

Shaking her own head, the mademoiselle got up from the stool and took his paws in her hand, "No you don't, I heard you before. You have a lovely voice. Please? It would help my playing," she begged.

Beast sighed deeply and looked down at the beautiful, pleading gaze. Blessed Lord help me, I can't refuse her anything, he thought embarrassedly, nodding in resignation. Belle beamed a wide smile at him and walked back to sit down on her simple wooden stool.

"From the beginning please," Maestro Majestueux instructed the instruments, who were all but staring at their Master. "From the beginning!" The composer barked out, startling the musicians who promptly began to play again.

Belle plucked the strings of the harp patiently, her brown eyes fixed on Beast.

Clearing his throat, the Prince threw away the thought of how much he had avoided singing even Christmas carols and the forced hymns at mass and began to sing.

"Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously.
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company."

Beast's singing voice was an eloquent baritone and very tone perfect. Belle couldn't take her eyes off the owner of the beautiful voice coming from the fanged mouth, her fingers travelled over the strings of the harp in the familiarity of playing the tune years ago.

"Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Greensleeves."

The enchanted Prince lifted his downcast eyes to rest on Belle, their gaze meeting and the young woman, with more than a bit of a blush as Beast sang the second verse.

"Your vows you've broken, like my heart,
Oh, why did you so enrapture me?
Now I remain in a world apart
But my heart remains in captivity.

Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Greensleeves."

Beast furrowed his brow as he tried to remember the next verses of the song, there might have been more verses, but there were only two more he could remember, and the final verse wasn't one of them.

Belle lifted her gaze back on him as they continued to play, waiting for him to chime back in, sighing deeply the enchanted Prince continued.

"I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you would crave,
I have both wagered life and land,
Your love and goodwill for to have.

Beast went to sing the chorus and he found his voice joined by a very sweet addition, looking up he saw Belle joining in the final chorus.

"Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Greensleeves."

The musicians played their last and Belle plucked the final strings and let the final notes hang in the air.

Beast rubbed his mouth nervously. "I'm sorry, I don't remember the last verse and I'm sure there were more…"

Belle smiled shyly and got to her feet, "It's all right. You do sing beautifully–"

"So do you," Beast interrupted, with a little more exuberance than he intended, and he dropped his gaze with a blush hidden under his fur cover cheeks.

Belle continued with a wry smile, "Thank you. Perhaps, as I was going to say, Mrs Potts could remind you about the other verses," she moved to sit down beside him and took his paw.

"You mustn't always be so sorry for things that you cannot do, what matters is what you can do. What is so good about you, Beast, is that I can see something so pure and kind in your eyes." Belle smiled kindly. "What matters most about a person, truly, is what is inside."

Beast wanted to throw himself into Belle's arms and cry until all his tears were spent, Say you care for me, Belle, he thought pleadingly. Instead of voicing his thoughts, Beast forced a smile and got to his feet. "I…I'll leave you to take Philippe for his exercise. Thank you, Belle," he moved to leave, and Belle reached out for his paw again and squeezed it.

"Please stay, Beast, don't run off with such a sad expression. Tell me, what is troubling you?"

The enchanted prince hesitated, he wanted to tell her everything, but couldn't. "I…I...perhaps we can talk later, in the library," Beast couldn't deal with the churning emotions that had flooded him. The expression of pity on Belle's face was too much. It wasn't the same emotion that he was feeling for her and it was tearing him up inside.

All but snatching away his paw, Beast bolted out of the room, all his goodwill and excitement going. It was possible she could see in his eyes, (that had never changed even with his transformation,) who he really was, who he could be. But still, it was on a level of pitying him as one pitied an injured animal.

Although Beast's body was twisted and enchanted, with only the man he was hidden behind this epicene of a hulking monster truly capable of sexual attraction, he knew one thing for certain about Belle's feelings.

That there was no rampant desire as he felt for her.

***

Beast eventually arrived at his chambers and began to pace up and down in front of the enchanted rose, which had slowly started to lose further petals over the past few weeks.

"Four more months till my twenty-first year," Beast muttered as he glanced over at the aforementioned rose. "And Christmas Eve, the anniversary of the curse, in only two days." Beast let out a small moan and gripped his upper arms in his clenched paws, matching his clenched teeth as his red cloak whipped around in the wind blowing in from the open balcony doors.

"I keep trying…she's so beautiful, her voice is so soothing…doesn't she know I would do anything for her? She suspects I'm not really a beast, it is tormenting me not to tell her the truth and I can't…I can't let her know…Belle needs to tell me that she loves me. I don't know if I do…I think I do…I can't…I…I do," the truth rang in his ears.

The prince had vowed never to feel that emotion again, but here now, as the grown man he was under this beastly flesh, the emotion was there, stronger than it had even been for his family.

"I love her."

Beast had dared to say the three words out loud. Only a month, not even, and suddenly there it was.

He was falling in love with Belle.

It wasn't a crush. It wasn't lust. It was as close to love as the inexperienced Beast could reckon, and the feeling was only growing stronger. Beast looked over at the torn painting of himself as boy, the one poor Queen Marie had so lovingly gifted to him.

Walking to the painting, Beast reached out and lifted a piece of the canvas, glancing over the high cheekbones and plump, youthful mouth. Beast subconsciously lifted his left paw to his mouth and traced his fingers over his engorged, fanged mouth and furry cheeks, letting out a shuddering sigh he dropped his hand from the canvas and stared into the identically blue eyes.

"You and I," Beast calmly addressed the boy in the painting. "We have to part ways. You are a reflection of whom I once was, not who I could be. I cannot escape my past, but I must not let it dominate my future. I need Belle. When I was you, I thought I didn't need anyone anymore." He shook his head with newfound wisdom.

"That's not true. We needed Père. We needed Maman and Christine, even though they could no longer be with us. We still need Lumière, Mrs Potts, Cogsworth and the rest of the staff. They're our family now we have none. And Belle…we need her. I love her. Do you understand that, young prince?" Beast chastised his younger self.

"When we were a sheltered little boy, we thought we'd be married to some princess or duchess and that would be the end of it. We'd come to love them, not fall in love of our own volition. Well," he folded his arms, mimicking a stern expression his father had often worn.

"We've surely learnt our lesson. And it's not over yet. I swear, by every fibre of my being, that I have changed. Belle is changing us. I love her."

Beast smiled triumphantly, "You will see, Adam. I will make this right…and you Enchantress, you'd better keep your word. It won't be long now before I can hold Belle in my arms and kiss her, as I should have been able to do every moment I have been in her company," Beast vowed.

Looking aside, it might just have been his imagination, but the rose glowed a little brighter and Beast smiled, "You have heard me, Enchantress, so it shall be. If I can't love Belle, let the world be done with me," he swore. "She is the only one I want." Beast went out on the balcony and rested his arms on the railing, the snow was starting to fall heavily, but he needed to think for a moment.

What could I do next for Belle to prove my love?

***

Still brooding over what could be done next, (a few hours after the revelation of his love for Belle had dawned on him,) Beast, hands clasped behind his back, made his way over to the library. He was stopped in the hallway leading to the library by Lumière, who bowed quickly and smiled up at his master.

"Bonjour, your highness," Beast's maître d' greeted. "Did Mademoiselle Belle enjoy her surprise?"

Beast raised his brow. He knew the tone Lumière was using meant that he already knew just how it had gone. "Well. But...oh damn it, Lumière, don't play innocent. I can tell you know what happened already. Were you eavesdropping again?" He accused.

The candelabra looked insulted and folded his golden arms. "Of course not your highness...well not on you and Mademoiselle Belle. However, I overheard the Mademoiselle talking with Mrs Potts, asking if she had taught you the words to that Greensleeves song Mrs Potts used to sing you to sleep with as a child. Mrs Potts of course said that she had, and then Mademoiselle Belle asked about other verses, saying that you couldn't remember them...well naturally I concluded that you had...well..."

"Out with it, Lumière," Beast interrupted bluntly, his blue eyes narrowed in exasperation.

"...well that you had...sung the song to Mademoiselle Belle?" The maître d' added the last part quickly and shut his eyes as he waited for the blast of words from the enchanted Prince.

Upon hearing no roar, Lumière opened one eye and saw Beast had his arms folded across his broad chest and wore a serious frown, but there was no glare of anger in his blue eyes.

"I did," Beast admitted slowly. Lumière blinked a couple of times and his master growled low in his throat, "Don't look at me like a stunned carp, you silly candelabra," he snapped. The maître d' came back to attention when the tone of Beast's voice almost reverted back to the snide manner of his youth.

"I didn't mean to, but she asked, and I couldn't refuse, Belle complimented me on my voice...but then after." The prince-turned-beast rubbed his mouth in frustration. "After we talked, I could see pity in her eyes."

"Pity?" Lumière winced, "Are you sure? Perhaps it was…fondness?"

Beast shook his head morosely, "No. It was the same way she looks at Sultan when he runs head-first into a snowdrift and can't get out," he groaned and smacked his forehead. "I know there are only four months left to win her affection and I'm trying, Lumière. I was ready to give up everything, but Belle...she makes me come alive. I can't...I need her."

Lumière sighed and half-smiled as he jumped up onto one of the side tables to be at a better eye level with his master, "Then tell her. Declare your love for her," the candelabra insisted, his heart breaking when he saw Beast's unbelievably tortured expression in response to his words.

"I can't, not now, all she feels is pity for me like an injured animal. If I declare my love for her now, she'd only laugh at me, or try to placate me by telling me how much she cares for me, but only as a friend…or, she might say something worse," Beast shuddered.

The maître d' nodded sympathetically, Lumière's eyes crinkling in the corners, "I understand Master. Do not worry, the staff are all trying our best to make Belle feel more relaxed and at home here. In time she will see through this enchantment. Mademoiselle Belle is such a bookwoman, she knows not to judge things by their covers! Give it a little more time," he suggested soothingly.

Beast bit his lower lip, "We are running out of time," he commented and shook his head again. "I'm determined Belle is the one, that the Enchantress planned for her to be the only one, I'm sure of it," the distraught enchanted Prince mumbled, gliding past his sighing maître d', who lifted his eyes upwards.

"Prince Christophe, we need some help, old friend," Lumière whispered to his master's late father, shaking his head as he hopped after Beast down the hallway, smiling a little when he noticed how much straighter his master was walking, and that he was clasping his hands behind in the small of his back again.

Oblivious to Lumière's words and appraising, Beast peered around the side of the closed left door through the open right door, from this distance he could see Belle, seated in one of the plush chairs, pulled up to one of the large wooden desks, and in front of her, (in a semi-circle around a beautifully illustrated book,) were all of the children-turned-cups of the castle and Mrs Potts perched nearby.

The prince blinked. Only ever Chip had he seen hopping about the castle with his mother or with Sultan, and now Belle. The other children had never left the kitchen. They were all identical to Chip, except they hadn't the large chip the boy had down his side.

The children-turned-teacups were eagerly looking up as Belle read to them, her soft eyes looking down at them every so often and her mouth parting in a smile.

Beast glanced downwards at Lumière, "She's so good with children," he murmured, deep in thought.

The golden candelabra nodded, "Oui. Something on your mind, your Highness?" Lumière allowed himself an indulgent smile as Beast raised an eyebrow in response. "Perhaps how the mademoiselle would look with a bébé of her own in her arms?" He chuckled at the obvious alarm that filled his master's eyes and winked.

"I think that is the case. Adieu, Master, I have to see to the serving staff for this evening."

The enchanted Prince scowled as the candelabra quickly made his exit down the hall, Best rubbed the back of his neck grudgingly. "That was not what I was thinking," he hissed to himself, in fact, the idea had never dawned on him before. Children...?

"Oh, Beast?"

A sweet voice called out from within the library and Beast nearly fell backwards from having his thoughts disrupted. He looked over at where Belle had half-turned in her chair and was smiling over at him.

"Are you planning on standing in the doorway, or are you going to join us?" Belle called out in query, with a raised brow of amusement.

Sheepishly Beast scratched the top of his head and nodded. "I'm coming," he replied, composing himself and walking into the library with his hands clasped behind his back and his shoulders straight. As he drew closer Beast saw the little cups with purple and yellow edging, (minus Chip of course,) start to shiver a little and a couple darted behind Mrs Potts.

Chip merrily hopped to the edge of the table to greet his master with a wide smile, "Bonjour, Master! Belle was reading to all of us about the First Christmas. It was really sad when Saint Joseph couldn't get a room for the Blessed Virgin in the inn, and then the very nice innkeeper–"

The rest of Chip's merry words were lost when Beast realised what the word meant. "Noël?" He interrupted with a slightly raised voice.

Christmas, like Beast's birthday each year, had been strictly forbidden for celebration in the castle since the curse.

Belle closed the leather-bound bible and folded her hands atop the cover with a determined smile, "Yes, Noël. Chip mentioned that you haven't celebrated Christmas in a very long time," her brown eyes looked saddened. "Is that true, Beast?"

The prince pursed his lips, it was obvious by the expression on Belle's face that the holiday was something she enjoyed very much and being far from her father, her only family, would have a dramatic impact on her emotions at this time. Beast knew he would have to put aside his own feelings of reluctance for Belle.

I can do this for her.

"Yes, because we have had nothing to celebrate. Now you have arrived here, Belle, I will allow Noël to be celebrated, if you so wish," Beast murmured his assent.

Mrs Potts and the rest of the teacups, minus Chip, blinked in surprise at how easily their Master gave his assent for a celebration during an anniversary of something so tragic for him and the rest of the castle.

Chip leapt up into the air, "Yippee! A Christmas! Mama, did you hear?" He hopped over to his mother, brothers, sisters and fellow servant children, who were still staring up at the Beast.

Mrs Potts composed herself first and nodded, "I did. Are you sure, Master?"

Beast nodded firmly down at his former nanny, "I am. Prepare the castle for Noël as you used to Mrs Potts. Inform the staff that I wish it to outdo itself for Belle—"

Belle put her hand on Beast's arm, "Thank you. But please don't go to so much trouble. A nice simple celebration would please me ever so much more," she interrupted kindly, those twinkling brown eyes held so much kindness Beast would have scoured the earth for every glittering jewel for her joy. Still, all Belle wanted was a simple celebration?

"I…I don't understand? There must be a grand feast to plan for!"

The young woman folded her arms across her chest, "I have noticed we two are the only beings who can eat in the castle, apart from Philippe, and so we should not need such a waste of food. As for decorations, Chip and I will go search for some holly and ivy," Belle said mildly, looking down at the bible.

Beast scowled deeply and snorted, "That is hardly the way to prepare for Christmas! It has never been done without a feast, lavish decorations, and a midnight mass—!"

Belle lifted her head, "You have a chapel?"

The enchanted Prince stopped mid-rant and closed his mouth. "Yes, we do…hasn't anyone shown you it?" He questioned, Belle shook her head and Beast rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn't thought...oh yes ever since Belle had shown up here, he'd been praying earnestly in the chapel himself, but...Belle was a humble laywoman and a Catholic, naturally, she'd want to visit a chapel.

"I guess everyone left out that part of the tour," the young woman raised an eyebrow with suspicion. "Is there something in there I'm not meant to see?"

Beast sighed. "No... nothing really. Come," he offered his arm and Belle linked hers around it. "I'll take you to it."

***

The doors creaked open and Beast stepped aside to let Belle enter the cold chapel. A few candles dotted throughout the small place of worship lit up the otherwise dark room but offered no heat. Belle walked to the holy water cistern and dipped her fingers into it, crossing herself she knelt in homage before rising to her feet, and strolling past the ancient pews, her eyes lifted to the ceiling.

Checking to see if Belle was distracted, Beast also dipped his fingers into the holy water and made the sign of the cross, before moving quickly to catch up to the brunette-haired woman, who was still staring up at the grand carvings along the beams.

"It is so beautiful in here," Belle said a little louder than a whisper. "I haven't seen such a beautiful church since Paris."

The prince-turned-beast folded his arms as he watched Belle touch the smooth polished wood of the back of one of the pews. "Did you ever see Notre Dame?" He queried.

Belle shook her pony-tailed-haired head and glanced curiously up at him, "No. I have never been inside la belle Notre Dame. I've walked near it, but I've never been inside. Have you?" She threw out yet another question about his identity and Beast shook his head.

"I do not believe that, you speak as if you have," Belle replied with a smile. "Come, sit and tell me what it is like in there," she motioned to a pew and her imprisoner shook his head again. "All right."

Wearily Beast watched the young woman walk around a row of pews with a raised brow in his direction as she left. Yet again he knew Belle was not impressed. He wouldn't be either frankly, but what else could he do? The prince followed a few feet behind as Belle studied the statues, in particular the largest one in the chapel.

"San Martin de Tours," Belle mentioned as she saw Beast's shadow over her own from the candlelight. "Do you know of him?"

Beast nodded his head, his father's favourite saint. "He was a cavalry officer in the Roman army and..." he scratched his head. "I... don't remember anything else," Beast turned his gaze from the handsomely clothed saint's stony features and turned them instead on his paws.

Belle touched his arm and continued to keep her smiling expression fixed on the huge statue. "San Martin was at the gates of a city called Amiens with his soldiers, when he met a beggar dressed in rags. Feeling love and pity for the beggar, San Martin cut his own military cloak in half and shared it with him," Belle explained.

Beast nodded and looked up at the statue as Belle continued to tell the story.

"That night San Martin dreamed of the Lord Christ wearing the half-cloak he had given away. Jesu said to the angels: 'Here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is not baptised, he has clad me.'"

Beast folded his arms, "In sharing what he had with the beggar, San Martin had shared alike with Christ," the words of his father came to him all too late. If only he had remembered that when he had turned away the old beggar woman who had transformed into an Enchantress, just as in San Martin's dream he'd seen his half of cloak on Jesus for sharing it with a lowly beggar.

All too late...

Belle looked up at Beast with a small smile, "Yes. Sharing what we have with those less fortunate, is what makes us human and beloved of God," she said, not knowing how painfully those words dug into the enchanted prince. The young woman glanced aside at the chantry to the left and a soft smile graced her lips.

"Who is that man in the stained glass? San Michael?"

The prince shook his head, "No. I do know they are chapellenies for the dead," Beast mentioned, averting his gaze from the armour-clad man staring solemnly out of the painted glass, and kept his eyes on Belle, watching as the mademoiselle stepped closer and studied the stained glass within the alcove.

"Then this was not originally your castle?"

"No." It wasn't an entire lie, Beast's grandmother had been given the castle by her father to live in, but it remained a residence of the King of France. "I came to be here, though," Beast added. Let her think I found it abandoned, it will be much easier.

Belle nodded her head and reached out with her fingers to touch the cool glass thoughtfully. "He's very handsome, I wonder if he was a duke or a prince. He looks like a prince," she said decidedly, her fingertips running over the painted fair hair.

Beast forced a smile on his fanged lips, "And you would know what a prince or duke is supposed to look like?" He hadn't meant it as rudely as it came out.

But Belle looked sharply at him, then clasped her hands in front of her.

"Perhaps. I mean, I've only really met a boy prince, but as for noblemen...they are only still men after all. But, unlike a peasant, a royal man has a different bearing. He holds his head up and squares his shoulders, and, unlike any well man that could do likewise, he does so in a way that marks him as having power," Belle bit her lip. "That's silly dreaming nonsense, isn't it?"

With a raised brow in the direction of his father's stained-glass portrait, Beast rubbed his mouth, "No, no I would not say that at all. If I said anything, I would suggest that you had met a great many nobles," he answered, making the brown-haired woman smile as she turned back to the chantry, folding her arms over her chest.

"Only one, and he was just a spoilt little boy who didn't like books, and had the saddest eyes," Belle looked up at Beast with a cautious expression. "So very blue," she murmured, lifting her hand to his face. "So like yours, but not filled with possibly all the worries of the world..."

The prince-turned-beast pulled back before the young woman could lay her delicate hand on his face, Again, pity for this monstrous form... "I have none of the worries of a young prince, Belle. I fear I have to leave you, however," he bowed quickly and turned on his heel.

It was becoming further frustrating that all Beast could do was run away and not declare any of his feelings to Belle...

Can she not see I don't want her pity? I want so much more, Beast bemoaned to himself as he brushed past the many pews. Perhaps she'll never see me as anything but a creature to be pitied. When the curse is final, if she does not love me, will I still keep her imprisoned or set her free...?

"Wait! Beast, please wait!" Belle's sweet voice called out in earnest and the prince looked over his right bulky shoulder to see the young woman rushing down the aisle. He stopped and allowed the girl to side up to him and turned to regard her, Belle's large, light brown eyes looking earnestly up at him.

"Beast, this is the second time you've run from me today and I have the impression it is because of something I have said amiss," Belle folded her hands together and cocked her head quizzically to the side. "Is it so?"

The cursed man paused and bit his lower lip. Beast wasn't quite sure how to answer that question and, to his great relief, the young woman nodded her head.

"It is true. My Papa always taught me to speak my mind, but he also taught me that everyone is entitled to their privacy. I know I'm a prisoner here," Belle began, Beast winced at the sad tone of her voice. "And we have only known each other for a few weeks. I have no right to be as forward as I have been. I'm worried I may have been a little too forward, as a matter of fact–"

Beast lifted a paw to intercede, "Belle, I'm sorry if I've been terse with you. I've been alone for many years with only my servants whom I've known since childhood for company, even before then I only had close contact with my family. I'm not used to being around anyone my own age who was not my servant," he explained.

"I haven't been open with anyone in a long time, apart from perhaps Lumière, but even then, that is always as his master. You are my prisoner Belle, but not my servant."

Belle's eyes widened in understanding and she nodded, "I see. I had noticed the change in you, Beast," she cocked her head to the side. "I feel wrong, calling you Beast...have you always been called that?"

A raised brow from the enchanted prince and a lowering of his eyes. "I've been that for a very long time. The servants just address me as 'Master'."

"Or 'your Highness'," Belle pointed out wryly, her imprisoner looked at her with sad eyes as she gently touched his arm. "I promise I will not question why they call you that, but...you don't have any other name I can call you?"

The Beast shook his head, "No, not now, I am Beast and nothing more," he murmured, the young woman looked concerned and the cursed prince felt he had to comfort her. I'm acting like a spoilt, moping child. I am a man, despite all appearances. "Belle, one day...one day I would like to tell you everything," he assured her, placing his right paw over her hand resting on his left.

"Just promise me you can wait. Trust me."

Belle's face parted in a smile and she inclined her head, "I... I do trust you, despite everything. I think you are a good person," she stood on tiptoe and, to Beast's great shock, kissed his left cheek.

"Thank you for being honest with me," Belle slipped her hand from Beast's arm and brushed past him, rushing down the aisle.

Beast felt stunned and stood in one place with his mouth half-open until the sound of the young woman's footsteps disappeared down the hall outside the chapel. He shook himself out of his stupor and lifted his paw to the side of his face, where he could still feel the warmth of the lips of Belle.

The prince turned in the direction she had left in, Why... he blushed furiously, and then Beast's open mouth parted in a deliriously happy grin.

She kissed me!

***

Cogsworth and Lumière looked up and watched as Belle rushed past them down the hall, her pale cheeks tinged with red. They looked at each other in curiosity, then hopped and waddled towards the entrance of the chapel to see if their Master had any explanation for the condition of the young woman.

Lumière reached the doors to the chapel first and hopped through the entrance and down the aisle, where the Master was standing slump-shouldered and with a stunned expression on his face. His paw resting against his face and his blue eyes wide. Lumière halted and Cogsworth breathlessly caught up to the maître d' and also looked up at Beast.

"Your Highness?" The enchanted mantle-clock inquired cautiously.

Beast kept looking ahead blankly, before he blinked his widened eyes a couple of times, "She...she..."

Lumière leant forward expectantly, expecting the Master to bemoan that he had said something out of hand that had upset Belle, "Yes?"

The enchanted prince looked down at his servants and blinked again. "She kissed me," Beast revealed in a dazed tone.

The candelabra was quick to offer his comfort, "Oh I'm sure Belle will forgive—what did you say, Master?" Lumière suddenly realised what the Beast had said, his eyes widening. "Did you just say—?"

"Ha ha!" Beast interrupted and picked up his maître d' and grinned directly into the puzzled Lumière's waxy features. "She kissed me," he tossed the surprised candelabra back to the ground. Cogsworth clapped his hands uncertainly as Lumière got back to his base and beamed up at the prince, who waved his arms about in enthusiasm.

"Belle said she trusted me, then she kissed my cheek!"

Lumière whooped excitedly and bestowed two kisses of his own on Cogsworth's disgusted face, "Haha! That is wonderful news, Master! Now if I might suggest, you should—"

Beast knelt down to his maître d's level and interrupted with gusto, "Get a wonderful present for her for Noël? I agree...she wouldn't like jewellery," he began to pace up and down, followed in his movements by his dutiful servants. "She doesn't like a lot of sweetmeats, and Belle told me little birds and wild animals should be free and not caged so..." He spun around suddenly and half-frightened Cogsworth and Lumière who both fell over.

"Do you two have an idea?"

Cogsworth raised his metal grasping hand wearily as he got to his feet. "Perhaps the madam might like a nice, handwritten card...?"

Lumière nudged his counterpart with a shake of his head, "No, no. Something to encourage the young mademoiselle to spend more time with his highness...ah," his eyes twinkled. "Maybe some ballgowns?"

Beast rubbed his hands together nervously, "Ballgowns?" He mumbled. Ballgowns lead to balls and balls lead to... dancing? Of course, Lumière would bring up dancing...but then again, Belle would probably like to dance. He'd seen her twirl about, and she was so graceful.

"I suppose so. Yes, I want her to look like a princess though. Like Queen Marie, but less elaborate…like Christine used to dress…but no silly wigs," Beast commanded sternly.

Lumière nodded his head. "Of course, Master. I shall visit the tailor and Madame de la Grande. I'll see to it that you are shown the final choices," the candelabra maître d' bowed and hopped away quickly, with a wide grin on his face.

Cogsworth looked up at the Prince with a sly grin of his own. "If I may say so, your Highness, I do believe that by Christmas day we might be free of this curse."

Beast looked sharply down at his majordome, "I don't know. Go find something to do, I need to think," he dismissed.

The mantle-clock bowed deeply and scampered away, but even the clipped tone of his master's voice didn't wipe the smile off his face.

Like Lumière, Cogsworth could see the marked difference in his highness' demeanour. There was still the surly, stubborn boy-turned-beast lingering, but that boy was slowly being replaced by an even-tempered, rational man, thanks to Belle's gentle influence.

Cogsworth only hoped that this strange situation would work itself out and that things would not go back to how they were before the curse. That they would transcend that gloomy period and manifest instead into the bright, magnificent court Gascogne had been in the early days of Prince Christophe and Princess Aurélie's reign, when Cogsworth had first arrived at the château thirty years ago.

The arrival of the children the Englishman remembered with great fondness. The loss of the two little twins he felt deeply. After his daughters' deaths, a spark had gone from Christophe's eyes, and he worked tirelessly, shutting himself away from his family, and leaving on endless trips to Paris.

Aurélie had accepted this mildly. She adored her children, and both Aurélie and Christine spoilt Adam incorrigibly. The boy, having no steady influence of his absent father, had run wild and bathed in the lavish attention bestowed upon him by all the staff…excepting Lumière and Mrs Potts.

Cogsworth had observed these events rarely, as he had often accompanied Christophe to Paris, but it seemed Adam would only really listen to Mrs Potts' stern lectures, and Lumière was consistently relied upon by the Princesses of Gascogne to remove the boy from any immediate danger he'd gotten into. (Like climbing high up in the branches of a gnarled tree in the gardens and not being able to climb back down.)

Capitaine Amable had often stood as a staunch defender of young Adam. He and Christine spent the most time with the boy, and when all the other staff, and even his own mother and sister, failed to calm the boy down, Amable would step forward with his usual gallant demeanour and easily intervene.

Adam had adored Edgard, idolising him even more than his distant father. Losing him soon after losing his family had hardened the boy even further. They should have seen this coming. Even if the Enchantress had not come to the castle, it was likely Prince Adam still would have grown violent and wild into adulthood. Stubborn and snobbish towards all below him, instead of kind and benevolent to his people.

And who knows, this business of revolution could have wrought great tragedy. Perhaps the Enchantress had had more than one intention when she placed the curse…

Thank you for reading, the next chapter will be up very soon.