Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Adam remembered the very last affectionate contact he had before he was cursed by the Enchantress.

It had been Christmas Eve, just a few months before his eleventh birthday, and a year before the night that changed his life forevermore.

Adam had spent the night curled into his mother’s side, blankets tucked around them as she sang to him in a quiet, breathless voice.

After his father’s death, Adam had grown impossibly close to his mother, the two clinging to one another as his mother desperately tried to protect his childhood from the other lords and princes who wanted to push a boy into a man’s role. She had run herself ragged, attending meetings and parties in his stead, and along the way, she had fallen ill.

She had been bedridden for the past few weeks, but she had promised Adam that she would be able to be out and about on Christmas, their favorite time to celebrate together. It would be their first holiday spent together after his father’s death, so Adam was looking forward to the time they would spend together.

He had fallen asleep listening to his mother’s heartbeat, and woke up on Christmas morning with his mother’s unmoving, cold form beneath him, and new titles and responsibilities.

Adam had not cried. He knew what had happened, but for that moment, when he woke up and his mother did not, Adam sat, frozen.

His mother’s lady’s maid, Rosalind, who happened to be Adam’s favorite person in the castle second only to Mrs. Potts and his mother, had entered the room first, ready to help her lady and her prince prepare for the day.

She had taken one look at Adam’s wide-eyed face and his mother’s closed eyes, and she had shouted for anyone within earshot, rushing forward directly to Adam. She gently pulled him off the bed, wrapped him up in a warm blanket, and lifted him into her arms. Despite being ten, he hadn’t protested, and curled into the woman as she left the room as the other servants rushed in, moving down the hall to his own room with quick, determined footsteps.

As they walked, she spoke softly, nonsense little stories that kept Adam’s mind from wandering too far. Stories about her husband, who was an aspiring inventor, who had just drawn up plans for a machine that would split wood all on its own. Stories about her daughter, who was just about the young prince’s age, who preferred getting lost in her books rather than trailing after the bully of a boy who pulled on her braids and teased her reading.

They walked past the decorated hallways, the holly that hung from every available surface, and Adam wondered if he would ever be able to have fun at Christmastime again.

He was not sure when he had started crying, but when Rosalind sat him down on his bed, and took his face gently in hers, he could feel the tears falling down his cheeks.

“There, there, little master.” she said warmly, brushing away the tears with an achingly kind smile, hugging him close to her side as they both waited.

She hummed quietly beneath her breath like Adam’s mother had, gently rocking him back and forth soothingly.

Adam cherished the few minutes he had with Rosalind, the maternal love surrounding him as her hums filled the silent room. It was over far too quickly, with Lumiere and Cogsworth entering into the room with somber faces, exchanging a nod with the woman as she stood.

She pressed a kiss to Adam’s forehead, a familial gesture that would have never been allowed had the circumstances not been so tragic. “Things will turn out alright in the end, my little master. You’ll see.”

With a gentle hand brushing over his hair, she was gone.

Adam never saw her again.

Years later, he wondered if Rosalind had even been real, his own vague childhood memories and the blurry memories from the rest of the staff not helping in solidifying her existence. The thoughts of that terrible Christmas faded into nothingness as the events of the following Christmas took precedence, and only bitterness, grief, and anger over the years consumed his thoughts.

Any hints of kindness and love that his mother had instilled in Adam throughout his life fell away, his father’s teachings taking over, and turning him into the type of person he had once swore to his mother he would never become.

It wasn’t until a young woman with the same brown hair and kind hazel eyes, the same warm smile, entered into his castle, that Adam remembered. It was not until he saved her, when he performed his first act of selflessness in years, that he truly began to remember who he was once meant to be.

Belle loved her mother dearly. She was an artist, and Belle could recall spending hours upon hours in their little home’s cellar, listening to her father tinker on his inventions and her mother humming as she painted.

She remembered the very last touch she had received from her mother before she had died.

It had been mid-February, and a terrible fever had stricken her beloved mama. It had set in after Christmas, after the death of the lady of the castle in the forest, and it was obvious to anyone who knew of her mama’s position as her personal lady’s maid that the fever had been caught in the last days of the lady’s life.

Her mama had settled into bed, calling Belle away from the new books she had received for Christmas (The story of King Arthur and his knights was getting particularly interesting), and the young girl had bounded to her mother’s side, climbing into bed with her as Maurice sat beside the bed, a smile on his face that did nothing to mask the grief in his eyes.

“I know you’re scared, darling.” Rosalind said knowingly, a warm hand gently brushing her hair back away from her face. Belle squirmed down on the bed, tucking herself beneath the covers and clinging to her mama’s side. Maurice let out a wet chuckle, his own hand reaching out to rest on top of his wife’s.

Belle had just turned nine, so that made her a big girl. Big girls did not cry, no matter how sad they were feeling.

But she did not very much feel like a big girl at the moment, so she did not care that tears were starting to fall down her cheeks.

Her mama said nothing, she just kissed her tears away and tightened the arm that was wrapped around her shoulders.

Belle only had one request as she listened to her mother’s heartbeat. “Tell me a story, Mama?”

Rosalind smiled, and began talking, telling her stories about the castle in the forest. The stories about the funny man obsessed with keeping everyone on track and the maître’d who adored teasing his friend. She told her stories about the kind-hearted head of the servants and her little grandson, who she took in a few years prior, and told stories about the little prince, who was Belle’s own age. He talked about how he loved books just as much as her, and loved adventures possibly even more than she did.

It was here that Belle’s mama paused, a thoughtful look on her face as she studied her daughter. “I think you two would be friends. He needs friends.”

“I’ll be his friend as soon as we meet.” Belle exclaimed excitedly. “We’ll be best friends! I can read him my new book about King Arthur, and he can read me one of his favorite books!”

Both of her parents smiled adoringly at her words, and Rosalind drew her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

The joy shifted into something more melancholy, and Belle leaned back into her mama, unable to hold back her sniffles as she clung to her nightgown.

“It will be okay, my love.” Rosalind said, voice warm and reassuring, weak as it was. “It will all be alright.”

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you more, my sweet.”

Her mother was gone the following morning.

Belle had not wept then, grateful that she had gotten just a little bit of extra time with her beloved mother.

She and Maurice buried her underneath the tree that stood on the edge of the village, where a field of wildflowers created a tapestry of color.

Belle visited the field often, content to simply lay amongst the flowers and pretend that their soft petals were her mother’s hands holding onto hers, or their sweet scents were her mother’s favorite perfume.

The memories of her mother’s stories faded as the years went on, and Belle became more preoccupied with warding off the advances of Gaston and the disdain of the town.

The whispers of the young prince who loved books as much as she did became just a daydream, and were nearly forgotten.

Until the day Belle entered an abandoned castle, and came face to face with the Beast whose bright blue eyes struck a myriad of feelings into her very soul, feelings that were not like any she had ever felt before.

Chapter Text

When Belle was asked what had made her feelings towards Adam shift, she was always able to pinpoint the exact moment in time.

It was not when he leapt in front of the snapping wolves.

It was not when he crouched over her in a protective stance, growling and baring his own impossibly sharp fangs at the creatures.

No, as shocking as those moments were, none of them shifted her feelings.

It was when they sat together, Belle beside the Beast’s chair, cleaning the deep cuts on his arm with careful touches as he whispered “You’re welcome”, eyes watching her every move. His voice, usually so rough and filled with tension, was soft, and Belle couldn’t help the way that her head tilted up to look at him, and she found herself frozen beneath his stare.

Blue eyes.

Bright, impossibly blue eyes.

They weren’t the icy, cold blue of Gaston’s eyes, the type of blue that made her tense and cringe away from the inevitable comments and uncomfortable touches.

They were calm, the color of the sky on a clear day, the color of a peaceful ocean, the color of her favorite dress.

She thought back to the shredded painting that she had seen in the West Wing, of the mysterious prince who had those same blue eyes, and Belle had a feeling that there was more to the story than she was originally told. .

His eyes were the most expressive that Belle had ever seen, betraying the Beast’s every emotion. When he had surrounded the rose, curling over it and roaring with anger, Belle had only seen fear in his eyes. Fear of what could have happened, but also, it seemed, fear of the rose.

And now, kneeling at his side and looking at him, Belle realized his eyes were filled with a swirling mix of gratefulness and regret.

No one other than her father had ever looked at her with anything more than pity and judgement.

Belle was used to being on her own, to not having anyone to spend time with outside of her father. She was used to people giving her a wide berth, to focused on how odd she was to actually get to know her. She had no friends in the town, and for many years, her father’s hand on her shoulder, or his hugs, were the only touches she experienced.

Those, and, of course, Gaston’s unwelcome advances.

Belle realized with a start that when the Beast had been crouching over her, keeping her protected from the wolves, it had been the safest she had ever felt. Usually, if Gaston was standing so close, when his arm would wrap around in a tight, almost caging way, her skin would crawl and she would want nothing more than to escape as quickly as possible.

With the Beast looming over her, his temper completely focused on the wolves that threatened their lives, Belle had felt nothing but comfort. She did not want to cringe away. She wanted to stay and feel more protected than she ever had before.

It was terrifying and different and exciting.

Belle could have left the Beast there. She could have gotten onto Philippe and raced away, weaving through the forest to find her way home. She could have turned around without a second thought, and left him to die.

She did not.

He was barely conscious when she returned to his side, removing her cloak from her shoulders. She wrapped it around him, though it barely covered his back. Belle had hesitated just a moment before gently taking the Beast’s arn, pulling him up as carefully as she could, walking slowly, and bringing him to Philippe.

The shift that happened in so little time was almost jarring.

Bringing the Beast into the sitting room, Belle could almost call his behavior shy as she asked Mrs. Potts for some hot water and clean bandages. She was surprised when she realized that she wanted to reassure him, that she wanted to get to know who he truly was.

There was one specific way that she could start, that she could begin what she hoped would be a friendship.

“What…” Belle trailed off, her voice going quiet as the Beast looked at her. Steeling her nerves, she continued, pushing past her hesitation. “I realize I never got your name.”

The Beast looked shocked by the question, and out of the corner of her eye, Belle saw Lumiere and Cogsworth look at her with surprise on their faces. “My name?” His voice was full of disbelief, and he seemed so genuinely got off guard by the question that it made Belle’s heart hurt for a moment.

She raised an eyebrow. “Surely you have a name. I refuse to believe your parents gave you the name Beast when you were born.”

There was a moment of silence, but Belle did not push. The Beast had earned her trust by saving her life, and she wanted to earn his in return. She simply sat back, knees pulled up to her chest, watching him patiently.

“Adam.” His voice was a whisper, so quiet that Belle almost missed it. The name was spoken in a way that made it seem as though he was afraid that it no longer existed.

Belle simply gave him a bright smile, reaching out to rest her hand on the white bandages. “Adam.” He looked at her with wide eyes, and Belle could only wonder how long it had been since he had heard his own name spoken by another. “It is very nice to meet you, Adam. My name is Belle.”

Adam returned her bright smile with a cautious one of his own, and Belle saw his eyes fill with joy. “Nice to meet you, Belle.”

A burst of warmth lit up her heart, and Belle could only allow her smile to grow even more.

At first, Adam had been terrified to even be near her.

It was part of the reason he had given her a room in the East Wing, to keep her as far from him as possible.

There was too much in his mind when he even stepped anywhere near her, too many thoughts and emotions. Too much hope. He could not chase her away, could not bear to be the reason that the castle’s only hope left them and returned back to the village.

But it happened anyway, and all Adam felt was anger and hatred.

Not towards her, not at all.

Towards himself.

His damned temper once again growing out of control and ruining things.

He honestly had not minded her curiosity, when she was simply exploring the West Wing, though the sight of her walking about his damaged room stirred feelings of shame and embarrassment that he hadn’t felt in years.

The way Belle had flinched away from him would be burned into his mind forever.

He had been terrified when she uncovered the rose. Terrified that something would happen to the magic flower, yes, but also terrified that something would happen to Belle. He had never touched the rose, and therefore was unsure if the enchantress had placed any more magic in the rose to do something to those who touched it.

He would not have been able to bear it if Belle had gotten hurt, and because of his fear and his temper, he had scared her away. Adam would not be the reason she got hurt, however, so he chased after her, knowing the forest teemed with wolves ravenous for a meal.

He had found her surrounded by the wolves with a stick as her only weapon as she attempted to hold back the creatures, her horse’s reins tangled in the tree branches.

Standing over Belle protectively had been second nature, and Adam had not even thought before he snarled at the wolves, daring them to come near and touch her.

Adam would not have held it against Belle if she took the chance to leave. In fact, he was expecting it. No matter how determined or selfless her decision, Belle should have taken the opportunity to leave Adam to die in the woods.

She did not.

She helped him back to the castle, helped him settle into his chair by the fire, and had cleaned and bandaged his wound.

She had talked back to him in a way no one ever had, and it delighted Adam.

She had asked for his name, the name he had not been called since his mother’s death.

She had smiled at him, all open and warm.

She had touched his arm without any fear, and had looked at him with nothing but kindness. For the first time in ten years, Adam dared to allow himself to feel true hope. Even if she could not love him, she still looked at him like a friend.

Adam had never had a friend, and Belle acted like it was no issue at all after their time in the woods.

The very air in the castle seemed to shift the second that Adam offered Belle his name, in a way that the occupants had not felt in years.

The two had sat together in the sitting room for the rest of the evening, quietly in front of the fire, warming themselves from the snow and evening chill that had crept up on them. Adam had apologized, firmly intent to begin their hesitant friendship on a more positive ground.

To his delight, she had accepted his apology, and it was like they were two new people meeting for the very first time.

Getting to know Belle was an adventure all on its own.

Adam knew she had a fire beneath her kinder words and guarded expression, but he was more than a little excited to have someone who would call him out on his behavior, and talk back to him without fear. He had great affection for the members of his household, but he knew that Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts were far too concerned with propriety to truly disregard his status. Belle had no such hesitations, and Adam had to stifle his own laughter at Cogsworth’s aghast expression when she disregarded his words with a roll of her eyes.

Belle was a breath of fresh air, and suddenly, Adam wanted nothing more than to spend time with her.

Her presence lit the entire castle with a warmth it had lacked since they were all human.

Everyone was in higher spirits, and while Adam knew that part of it had to do with the hope that Belle would be the one to break the curse, he also knew that it had to do with simply how wonderful she was.

Adam was trying to keep a steady head. He really was trying his best not to hope as much as everyone else, trying to keep Belle at an arm’s length, but he found himself drawing closer and closer to her as the days passed, simply wanting to be near her.

It very much did not help that his heart stuttered every single time those wonderful hazel eyes landed on him.

It did not help when Belle began growing more comfortable around him, to the point that she would barely notice when their arms brushed in the library, causing him to flush beneath his fur and his breath to catch.

Adam was in trouble.

He was in so, so much trouble.

Chapter Text

Adam.

His name was Adam.

It was such a simple name, but Belle thought it fitting for him.

Once she knew his name, it was only a matter of time before Belle began seeing him in a completely new light.

Getting to know Adam, she had not expected the gentle, sweet, almost shy personality that was hidden beneath the rough, defensive walls that he had put up over the years. It was almost laughable that Belle had ever thought him frightening.

When he brought her to the library, his excitement had been infectious, even with her eyes closed.

Belle had not been expecting Adam to take her hands, but when his paws closed around her hands, it was surprisingly not an unwelcome feeling.

Logically, Belle knew she really should be fearful. She could feel how large Adam’s paws were in comparison to her own hands. She knew that, though she could not feel them, there were claws as sharp as anything hidden beneath the fur.

She was not focused on that.

She was focused on how gently Adam took her hands, how he was hesitant, as though he was afraid she would automatically flinch away.

Belle couldn’t stop her smile as she tightened her hands around Adam’s, letting him lead her forward into the room that would become her favorite place in the entire castle.

The gentleness continued as the days went on.

The day that Adam joined Belle outside, she tried not to appear too excited, worried that she could scare him off if she was too eager.

She had found a store of seed in the pantry, and had taken some outside after hearing the birds chirping through the snowy trees. Wrapped in a warm cloak, Belle had gone out to the courtyard, followed a few minutes later by Adam, who watched curiously.

“I used to feed the birds with my parents.” Belle explained as she tossed a handful onto the snow. Birds immediately descended, pecking and chirping as the two watched them.

Adam cocked his head slowly. “I’ve never done anything like this.” He glanced towards Belle, and held out his paws. She gave him a sweet smile, and immediately handed over a fistful of seed, watching as he crouched down.

Belle hid a laugh as the birds immediately scattered, no doubt intimidated by Adam’s large size as he extended his paws towards them. However, watching him pout as the birds flew away made Belle giggle, and the faux-betrayed look that her companion shot her did nothing to help her amusement.

“I am so happy you find this entertaining.” Adam said, voice deadpanned.

“I’m sorry.” Belle said, giggles fading as she knelt down beside him. She took his paw, lowering it closer to the ground, and pulled a little of the seed to scatter a trail on the ground. “Here, let’s try this.”

The two crouched, side-by-side, and watched as one brave little robin hopped towards Adam’s paws. Belle looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and felt her heart warm when she saw the excited look in his eyes.

Once the robin was safely pecking at the seed that Adam offered, the other birds joined, all fluttering towards their new source of treats.

Adam gave Belle a smile so bright, she felt all the breath leave her lungs. It was the happiest, and most open she had seen him in the days they had known each other, and had she not been kneeling, she most likely would have been taken off her feet.

A cardinal flew around Adam’s head, and Belle held out her hand, allowing the little bird to land on her finger. She braced herself on Adam’s arm to push herself back up to her feet, walking a few steps away to allow the cardinal to move onto the snow-covered branches of the trees.

Glancing back, Belle saw Adam watching her with an unreadable expression on her face, and she felt her cheeks warm as she ducked behind the tree to take a moment to herself. Everything was all so new, and slightly alarming, and she needed to get her head back on straight.

Adam was kind, and gentle, and there was something in him that Belle had not seen during their first meeting, and she was grateful to be seeing it now.

Poking her head back out around the trunk of the tree, laughter bubbled out of Belle as she spotted Adam hopelessly covered in birds.

A thought struck her, and as the birds suddenly scattered, Belle knelt down, gathering snow into her hands, and packing it into a ball. She had not had a snowball fight in years, not since her mother was alive, but she could not resist tossing the snow at Adam, and her giggles grew into laughter that she very much failed to hide behind her hand.

Adam looked at her, unimpressed, snow stuck in his fur. “Really?”

“Don’t tell me the good prince has never had a snowball fight before?” Belle asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Adam gave her a smirk that had her stomach exploding into butterflies, and he crouched, gathering the snow around him into a much larger ball than Belle had accomplished. She quickly formed another snowball, throwing it just as Adam hefted his own above his head, and her laughter continued as the snow fell around his head.

He gave her a shocked look, and quickly shook the snow out of his fur before letting out a growl that, instead of filling her with fear, filled Belle with amusement as she darted around the tree to hide from Adam.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in much of the same way, with Belle just experiencing the idea of having fun in winter once again, and Adam shedding the tense, guarded walls that he had slowly been lowering as he and Belle got to know one another more.

When they were sufficiently chilled to the bone, and Mrs. Potts sent word that she had nice warm cups of hot chocolate waiting in the sitting for them, Belle and Adam made their way back inside. They made a stop inside the library, a new normal that had been started when Adam had first shown Belle the castle library.

“What are we pulling today?” Belle asked, careful to not let the wet hem of her cloak brush any of the books.

Adam inspected one of the shelves carefully, and made his choice, pulling out a book with a soft brown cover. “Le Morte d’Arthur.”

Belle beamed. “Oh, this is one of my favorites!” She reached out, and Adam handed her the book. She caressed the cover reverently, feeling a wealth of emotions flood up within her. “My mother gave me this for Christmas when I was little. I read my copy until it was falling apart.” Looking up at Adam, she saw that he was watching her with the same unreadable expression that had been on his face out in the courtyard. “Have you read it before?”

“When I was a child, my mother and I would sit together and read it. After we went through it, we would act out various parts of the book in the courtyard together.” Adam’s voice was quieter, shyer, and Belle moved closer to him, their arms nearly touching as they began to walk to the sitting room. “She loved it for Lancelot and Guinevere, I loved it for Arthur and his knights, and all of their adventures.” Adam’s blue eyes dimmed, the light of his reminiscing fading. “I haven’t read it for a while, though.”

“Why not, if you loved it so much?” Belle asked curiously.

Adam paused, blue eyes now sparkling with mirth. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t think a book that features sorcerers and magic was not the best thing for someone who had just been cursed to read.”

Immediately, Belle’s heart twisted, and she froze.

“I’m so sorry!”

Adam laughed, a warm sound that eased Belle’s frantic apologies, and her voice trailed off, completely entranced by the way the fire lit up his fur in varying shades of gold.

Oh, she was in trouble.

If Adam thought that he was in trouble before, then Christmas only served to shove his traitorous heart even closer to the edge.

Despite his temper and his complicated feelings about the holiday, Belle had taken it upon herself to brighten up the castle, and make Christmas a happy time once more.

Adam knew there was an obvious shift in how they interacted. He knew it by the way Belle held his paws while ice skating, how it seemed second nature to gravitate towards each other when they were in the same room.

He was afraid to bring it up, so he stayed quiet, foolishly confiding in Forte about his budding feelings.

That had been all the organ needed.

He knew Forte took advantage of his temper, knew the maestro only cared about how powerful he could be without any of the responsibility. Adam had let him get away with that air of superiority for years, never bestowing any kind of consequence upon the organ.

Until Belle had been threatened.

It had been second nature to draw Belle close, curling around her protectively as the stones of the castle began to break from the force of Forte’s music. The feeling of the stones hitting his shoulders had been barely noticeable over his relief of Belle being safe.

Having Belle beside him when he was facing Forte had given Adam more strength than he could have imagined. Knowing that her life was at stake as well as his own pushed him, and tearing Forte down had been that much easier.

After all of the excitement of Christmas had died down, Adam and Belle had retreated to the peacefulness of the library, deciding to spend the day sitting beside one of the large windows as snow fell silently out in the courtyard.

Whether it was because of what had happened over the holiday, or simply because they had been spending every day together, there was a new type of… something between Belle and Adam. The window seat was large, but they sat close together, with Belle leaning her head onto Adam’s shoulder to follow along silently as he read aloud.

Adam was extremely proud of himself that his voice did not shake as it had the first time Belle had leaned against him, and he even dared to tilt his head a few times, just barely touching hers as they read.

They made it through the first section of the book before Belle spoke up, marking their spot with a piece of green ribbon that matched her dress. Adam looked at her curiously as Belle moved away, turning to face him.

“Why don’t you like Christmas?” she asked, almost hesitantly. “Was it something from before the curse, or did it happen over the years?”

Adam sighed. “Before the curse.” It was not something he enjoyed talking about, and was not something he had even spoken about with anyone before. “My mother fell ill the year before I was cursed. She was sick for a few weeks, and she died on Christmas morning.”

Belle’s eyes instantly widened, and she reached out, holding onto Adam’s paw. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was cursed on Christmas, as well.” Adam continued, setting the book to the side as he looked down at his and Belle’s clasped hands. “Overall, the holiday does not stir up many fond memories for me.” He scoffed quietly to himself. “I also… was never the kindest around that time of year, even before the curse, so my memories in general are not pleasant.”

“Lumiere told me that it’s been ten years.” Belle said, and Adam bit back a smile at the reminder of the song the staff had sung on Belle’s first night in the castle. They had not been nearly as quiet or as subtle as they had believed. “How old were you, when the Enchantress cursed you?”

Adam looked up. “I was eleven.”

Belle’s expression shifted, horror flooding her expression. “You were eleven?” To Adam’s own horror, tears were filling Belle’s eyes as her grasp on his paw tightened. “And your mother died the year before? And she faulted your behavior just like that?”

“I was not a kind child, Belle.” Adam explained with a bitter scoff. “My mother and her lady’s maid were the best influences I had in my life, but my father took more of a presence than anyone else, and he was not a kind man.” He looked towards the farthest side of the library, where one of the few remaining portraits of his mother hung. “Mother tried her best, but it was only a year or so between their deaths, and her lady’s maid left not long after, so unfortunately, I took after my father more than my mother.”

“Still…” Belle trailed off, following Adam’s gaze. His bitterness faded, and he squeezed her hand as gently as he could, catching her attention.

“Really, Belle, I’ve come to terms with my actions, and I accepted her punishment.”

Belle leaned against Adam once more, tucking her feet beneath her. “What was your mother like?”

Adam was grateful for the change in subject. “She was wonderful.” He could feel the smile spreading across his face. He had thought about his mother often, but had not spoken about her to anyone, too afraid of the grief he would feel. “The library was her idea. This castle and the villages around it are so secluded that it was difficult to travel often, with the woods and all, so when she and my father first married, books were brought in from all over to fill it, and she continued her collection over the years.” Belle was watching Adam as he spoke, something soft in her eyes. “She was one of the kindest women I knew. I loved her very much.” His heart twisted, thinking of how he had been in the year after his mother had died. “I try to live up to her idea for me, but I think she would be rather disappointed in how I ended up.”

“I don’t know, I think you’re doing alright.” Belle stated, voice completely serious and matter-of-fact. Adam could not stop the grin on his face at her words.

“I know your father, but what was your mother like?” he asked, wanting to learn more about Belle just as she was learning about him. “Was she an inventor like your father, or more invested in books, like you?”

The look on Belle’s face struck Adam completely dumb. Her eyes lit up, and her smile could have outshone the sun in the middle of summer. “She was an artist. Our cellar at home was split in half, with one section for my father to work, and a section for my mother to paint. She loved sitting outside and painting the flowers and animals that would wander into our garden.” Belle’s eyes went far away, and her smile faded to something softer, something sadder. “She had a tradition of giving me a book for Christmas that had illustrations she created.”

Adam knew the look on her face. “Did she pass away recently?”

“I was nine.” Belle explained. “She had caught a fever from the lady she worked for. She died a few months after Christmas, and Papa and I buried her under her favorite tree outside of the village.”

Something stirred within Adam. A kind smile, a warm hug, a name. He paused before his question, as there was no possible way that fate could be so kind to him after what he had done. “What was your mother’s name?”

“Rosalind.”

Adam felt as though all the air had left his lungs, and his heart pounded in his chest.“Your mother was my mother’s lady’s maid, Belle.” Belle straightened, hands covering her mouth in shock as she stared at him. “I knew her.” A disbelieving laugh left Adam. “She held me after my mother died.”

“My mother would tell me stories about this castle.” Belle’s voice was almost a whisper. Tears were in her eyes, and Adam hoped they were good tears. “She told me stories about everyone here!” She looked around them, as though she was seeing the castle in a completely new light. “The stories she told of Cogsworth always made Papa and I laugh.” Belle’s voice went softer, and she retook Adam’s paw. “She told me about you, too.”

“Really?” Adam’s amusement faded, and he suddenly felt extremely self-conscious as he looked at Belle.

Belle nodded. “Not your name, but she talked about how you liked to read, and how she wanted to bring me to meet you one day.” Adam looked down, suddenly feeling shy, but inside, he was overjoyed. He remembered the few times that Rosalind had mentioned that she had a daughter of his own, and how he had thought, as a child, that it would be nice to meet her and have a playmate. “She said we would be good friends, and that you needed friends.” With the way that Belle looked at him, Adam felt as though she was staring into his very soul. He returned her gaze, seeing nothing but kindness and affection in her eyes. “I think she was right.”

“I didn’t have many friends growing up.” Adam mused as Belle rested her head on his shoulder. His stomach was twisting itself into knots, and his heart felt as though it was about to beat out of his chest. “Any children of courtiers that I spent time with were more concerned with creating treaties and alliances than truly being friends with me.”

“Mama would be happy to know we know each other now.” Belle said knowingly, reaching for their book, and reopening it.

As her voice filled the room, Adam realized a wonderful, terrifying, amazing thing.

He was in love with Belle.

Chapter Text

When Adam had asked her to dinner, Belle’s stomach had immediately exploded into butterflies that both terrified and excited her.

They had been sitting in the library together at one of the large tables, books spread out over every inch of the surface. Both Belle and Adam were engrossed in their own stories, simply content to be sitting quietly in the other’s presence, and wasn’t that a miracle in itself? It nearly made Belle want to laugh, that she had once seen Adam as a terrifying monster, when in reality he now had become her dearest friend.

She had come to know more about him as the months went by. His fears and hopes from before he had been cursed, his favorite activities he had done with his mother. She saw Adam’s softer side, and after their first snowball fight, knew he had a sense of humor. Some of the jokes he told her had made Belle nearly collapse with laughter, and though he attempted to hide it, she had seen the joyful expression on his face.

Belle found herself becoming the most relaxed she had ever been, letting her guard down more and more, particularly within the library. Adam’s amused snort when she threw herself into a chair sideways, instead of making Belle feel self-conscious and judged, had only made her reach out with her foot and poke his side. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he deftly dodged, and Belle had rolled her eyes.

The quiet was comforting, as was the sound of muffled voices from outside of the library. Cogsworth’s authoritative tone floated the loudest, and Belle shook her head fondly at the unseen antics of her other friends.

She realized that she had not heard Adam turn any pages after a few minutes, so she looked up from her book curiously. He was still staring at his book, but his foot was tapping slightly on the ground, a sign of nerves that she had not seen before.

Placing her own book to the side, Belle reached out, resting her hand on top of his, causing Adam to look at her, slightly startled. “Are you alright?”

“Will you…” Adam’s words came out fast, slightly jumped together, and he paused. Belle simply gave him a soft smile, her heart full of something. He took a deep breath before meeting her eyes. “Would you have dinner with me?”

Belle cocked her head. They had eaten their meals together every single day after the night in the forest, so it was not an odd request. She had a feeling, however, that Adam’s request, judging by the nervous tapping of his foot, and his hesitance, that this dinner had another meaning.

“Tomorrow night?” she suggested.

Adam grinned, bright and boyish and doing all sorts of things to Belle’s own nerves. “I know that the last time I asked this, it did not go well at all.” They both winced. That was a topic they preferred not to touch upon after their single conversation about Adam’s behavior the night in the forest, when he had apologized to her. “Think of it as… as a kind of do-over, the beginning we should have had.”

Belle’s smile grew. “I’d love to.”

“Wonderful.” Adam breathed, and Belle moved her chair closer to his, leaned against his shoulder, and they read together.

She had managed to keep her composure calm enough until reaching her room later in the day. The second the door closed, Belle flung herself towards the wardrobe, who was watching her with wide eyes.

“Adam asked to have dinner tomorrow night. Not like our usual dinner.” Belle said in a breathless gasp.

Madame let out a squeal so loud, Belle was surprised that the mirrors didn’t shatter. “Finally!”

“Do I wear one of the dresses I usually wear?”

“Heavens, no!” Madame looked scandalized, and Belle laughed as the wardrobe began searching through her drawers. You need something beautiful, something so stunning it will steal the breath from his lungs!”

Belle sat on her bed, head in her hands as her heart pounded. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Madame stopped in her search, and rested the edge of her door on Belle’s shoulder comfortingly. “Relax, darling. The master would not want you to act any differently from how you usually are.” Belle gave her a grateful look, and the wardrobe went back to searching, letting out a shout of triumph as she pulled something from within. “Here it is!” Belle was positive the Enchantress’ magic allowed Madame to pull things out of thin air, because the gold ballgown that was draped on her bed could not have logically fit in Madame’s drawers at all.

“This… this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Belle reached out to touch it, ghosting her fingers over the fabric reverently.

The following evening, she could barely breathe as she stood at the top of the stairs. The weight of the gown was surprisingly comforting. It was made from the softest fabric she had ever felt on her skin, and the candlelight caused the fabric to shimmer varying shades of gold. Madame had even pulled out some jewelry that matched, and Babette had helped her twist Belle’s hair into an elaborate bun held into place with the matching pins.

Across from her, the source of her shortness in breath stood, dressed just as elegantly in a midnight blue suit trimmed in the same gold as her dress, and looking endearingly nervous.

They both walked down the stairs to each other, and Adam’s smile made Belle’s grow even before as they bowed to each other. He held out his arm, and Belle took it, wondering how, months ago, she had been so terrified of the gentle being beside her.

Their elegant descent down the staircase was interrupted by Sultan, who had no qualms about running around their feet barking, paying no mind to their state of dress or the soft music playing. Adam was startled, and Belle laughed, shaking her head at the dog turned footstool. Her reaction made Adam soften, and she retook his arm as he led her towards the dining room. Belle inhaled softly upon seeing the room. There were candles decorating the mantle and table, and a vase of roses sat in the middle, making Adam huff out a laugh as she raised an eyebrow at him.

The meal was no doubt lovingly crafted, but Belle could not resist the music coming from Jaque’s violin. The coatrack had been playing quietly, but when he saw Belle push her chair back, his playing increased in volume as Belle approached Adam, who was watching her with wide eyes.

“Dance with me?” she asked softly, holding out her hands.

“Oh, I don’t…” There was hesitation in Adam’s gaze, and Belle’s smile never faltered. He finally took her hands. “Okay.”

They walked together towards the ballroom, which had been cleaned so thoroughly that even the painting on the ceiling seemed to shine brighter. Belle remembered the stories her mother had told her of the grand ballroom of the palace that she worked in, and she was struck with a bittersweet wondering of how her mother would react if she knew where Belle was, and who she was dancing with.

Stepping into the center of the room, Belle gently guided Adam’s hands so that she could hold one, and the other went around her waist. Not for the first time, she marvelled at the gentleness with which he held her. She knew how strong he truly was, how sharp the claws he kept carefully hidden away were. She could not help but think back, so many months ago, to when Gaston had approached her in the village, taking her by the arm to pull her close. His grip on her had been almost bruising, and he shoved his way into her personal space with no regard for her comfort.

Adam was nothing like that. His touches were gentle and feather-light, always with a hint of hesitation. He never once used his strength against her, not even when they first met. Belle had mused, after that first night, that it may have been easy for Adam to break down the door to her room. The way it had shaken with the force of his knock, it had been entirely possible.

But he never did.

Belle watched Adam’s face as they danced, her heart warming at his careful attention to their dancing. She could see the moment he became comfortable to lead, and her smile widened as he straightened, took her hand once more, and spun them across the floor.

It was magical, and perfect, and everything Belle had always read about in her favorite books. She leaned in, and rested her head against Adam’s chest, feeling him stiffen slightly with surprise for a moment before relaxing.

Slowly, as the music gently faded away, Adam led Belle out onto the balcony, the night air cool and calm as they sat together. He reached out and took her hands, the atmosphere between them completely changed, their friendship fading into something deeper, something neither of them wanted to be the first to acknowledge.

“Belle?” His voice was soft, his smile hesitant. “Are you happy here?”

“Yes.” Belle replied, complete honesty in her voice. She had come to realized, particularly after Christmas, that the castle and the inhabitants within had become more of a home to her than the little cottage back in the village. She felt safer and more content, and she was able to simply be herself in a way she had never been able to be back in the village. “It’s just…”

Her voice trailed off, and she looked away. Adam ducked his head slightly to meet her eyes. “What is it?”

Belle let out a quiet sigh. “I wish I could see my father again. I miss him so much.” She wondered what he had been doing since she left, if he had invented anything new, if he thought she would come home.

Adam went quiet for a moment, before he stood, pulling Belle to her feet with him. There was an unknown emotion in his eyes. “There is a way.”

With her hand in his, Adam led Belle back through the ballroom and back up the staircase. WIth a start, Belle realized that he was leading her towards the West Wing, the one place in the palace she had not entered in months. Surprisingly, the shadows seemed to fade as Adam led her through the quiet halls towards his room.

Belle hesitantly stepped in after him, eyes glancing past the ruined painting and the curtains that had replaced the tattered canopy. Her attention was drawn towards the glowing rose that sat safely beneath the glass covering. It seemed less full than it had months prior, when she had first seen it, and Belle couldn’t help but feel a pulse of concern for an unknown reason.

Adam dropped her hand, approaching the small table, and he picked up an elaborate mirror that sat beside the rose. He handed it to Belle, and a moment later, she was looking through the mirror to her father, cold and coughing as he stumbled through the woods. Panic instantly swelled within her, the bodice of her dress feeling tighter as she looked up to Adam, a question on her lips, only to see him looking at her with resignation on his face.

“Go to him.” he said quietly, and the tightness in her chest loosened. She held out the mirror, but Adam gently pushed it back towards her. “Take it. So you can always have a way to look back…” He reached out, and Belle’s breath was stolen from her as Adam gently ran his fingers through her hair, staring at the strands with a bittersweet wistfulness. “and remember me.”

Belle managed to find her voice, holding the mirror close to her chest. “Thank you for understanding how much he needs me.”

Adam gave her a sad sort of smile, and Belle began to walk away. She barely made it a few steps before turning back, her heart cracking at the forlorn expression on his face. She reached out, gently cupping his face. His eyes met hers, and she tried to make her own smile encouraging, though she felt just as heartbroken to leave after the night they had enjoyed.

Knowing that if she stayed a moment more, that she would not be able to leave, Belle stepped away from Adam, rushing out of the room with her gown flowing behind her. She ran to her room as quickly as possible, Madame helping her out of the dress in silence, as though the wardrobe could read her thoughts.

She paused, just for a moment, upon seeing the simple blue dress held out to her. Belle had not worn it since her first few nights in the palace, instead allowing Madame to pull out dresses that hadn’t been worn in years. She put the dress on, and pulled her hair out of the elaborate bun, heart stuttering as she felt the ghost off Adam’s touch against her cheek.

Belle resolved, as she tied her hair back and retrieved the bag that now held the magic mirror, that she would return to the palace the moment that her father was healthy. She would even bring him with her after telling Maurice of her wonderful days, of the safety and love that she felt every single moment.

That thought made her freeze.

Love.

Belle shook herself out of her thoughts, resolving to solve that realization at another time, and wrapped her cloak around her as she ran down the stairs of the palace to the stables, where Philippe was already saddled and waiting. He galloped off the second she settled into the saddle, and the bite of the fading winter evening immediately felt like knives against her skin. Belle’s threadbare cloak did little to protect her, and she suddenly longed for the warmth of the library, of Adam’s side against hers.

As she raced away, the pounding of her heart in her ears was replaced by a heartbroken roar, and as the glass of the palace windows shattered, so did Belle’s heart.

Adam had only felt heartbreak once before in his life, when his mother died. It had been the most pain he had ever felt. As a child, feeling that way, Adam had truly believed he was about to die as well, that his breathing would stop as he stared at his mother’s still corpse on the bed.

The pain had faded with the years, but Adam had always hoped he would never feel that way again. It was part of his resolve to close himself off, not wanting to allow that pain back into his life.

Watching Belle ride away, the woman he now realized he loved, Adam swore he could feel the moment his heart broke in his chest.

The flames of hope that had been roaring with him, growing stronger over the months since Christmas, were snuffed out, leaving behind a cold, empty hole.

Part of Adam thought the Enchantress would be merciful, that she would see his change and his realization of love, but as he turned to look at the rose and the final two petals clinging to the stem, he nearly fell to the ground in despair.

He had never told Belle how the spell could be broken. At first, it had been because he did not want to give himself hope. Then, it was because he was content to have her as a dear friend. He had told the servants not to tell her the truth, not even about the timeline to his birthday.

His birthday.

Adam looked out at the starry night sky, and huffed out a bitter sound.

His twenty-first birthday was tomorrow.

The Enchantress’ timeline was nearly spent.

Their dinner, their dance, it had all been the last effort to be able to gather his courage and confess.

Adam had hesitantly asked Mrs. Potts’ opinion, and her proud voice had nearly made him run back to his bedroom like a child. A magical night, perhaps the final night of hope that the castle would have.

It had gone perfectly, but Adam was not a fool. He knew that any chance of Belle’s love for him would be dashed the moment he denied her request to go to her ill father. He had no expectations that she would return, or if she even felt the same way that he did, Adam was a changed person. He had gone through so much, mainly due to Belle’s time in the castle, that he could not bear to think that there was someone who would die if they were not helped.

The mirror was his final selfish act. He knew there was a slim chance that Belle would return. Her father was ill and getting on in years, and she had no debt to Adam. He simply hoped that, perhaps, she would miss him enough to look back on their time together fondly.

Adam could not help but wonder if Belle would come back, if she would return from bringing her father to the village, and ride back onto the grounds with the bright smile Adam had fallen head over heels for.

He allowed himself to dream, for just a moment, getting lost in the chill of the night as he clutched the table and stared at the glowing, wilting rose. Perhaps she would bring her father back to the palace minutes before midnight, and Adam would rush down, bringing Maurice to Belle’s room so Mrs. Potts could care for him. Perhaps Belle would look at him after getting her father settled, and Adam would find the courage to take her hands and confess his love, his adoration for her. Perhaps she would respond in kind, the same gentleness in her eyes that Adam had been seeing for months. The castle would glow with magic, and Adam and his staff would be themselves again, the curse would be lifted, and he would sweep Belle into his arms as she laughed.

It was a nice dream, Adam thought, and he would have fond memories. If Belle never returned, he would always be able to think back to this night, the night that he allowed himself to be as open as he had ever been.

Dreaming about the what-ifs did not change his broken heart, however, and Adam hunched over the table, squeezing his eyes shut tightly so as to keep the tears from falling.

He had not cried in years.

The silence of the West Wing was pierced as Mrs. Potts stepped into the room. “Pardon me, Master!”

“Leave me in peace.” Adam said, emotionless.

“But, sir, the castle is under attack!” Mrs. Potts sounded frantic, and he had to hold back more tears. He had failed the very people he once hoped to protect, people he once hoped to see as friends. “What should we do, Master?”

Adam looked towards Mrs. Potts, and he could see her shock at his expression. “It doesn’t matter now.” He now could hear the shouts of the mob from outside, their jeers and chanting, and the sound of something heavy being used to hit the main door. “Just let them come.”

Oh, how he wished he could gather his strength and run to the hall. He wanted nothing more than to go and defend his home, but Adam was so very, very tired. He sank down onto the seat in front of the window, staring at the rain that had begun to pour. Ten years of the curse, six months of hope, and now it all led to what could very possibly be his final night alive.

Perhaps that was what the Enchantress had meant.

He was doomed to remain a beast, a monster, in life, and in death.

Adam could not even bring it in himself to react when a man kicked the door to his room open. He was large, carrying a bow, and Adam instantly knew that this was Gaston. A flicker of a happy memory hit him, of an afternoon spent laughing with Belle in the garden as she told him the stories of the ridiculous hunter and his endless pursuit of her.

The happiness was quickly overtaken by a flash of searing pain in his shoulder, and Adam roared as he reached up to clutch at the arrow embedded in his shoulder. A beat later, Gaston tackled him through the window, and Adam’s thick fur was the only reason he did not immediately get cut up by the shards of broken glass.

The hunter laughed, a cruel sound that sent a chill up Adam’s spine as he was unceremoniously kicked off of the balcony. He felt the impact snap the arrow in half, and the pain returned, making his shoulder feel as though it was on fire.

Adam once again felt himself flooded with memories, of the brief touches he shared with Belle in the library, the gentleness between them. He had not experienced cruelty in so many months, had only ever had gentle touches and soft smiles, but that time was over.

“Get up!”

Adam looked up at Gaston, whose eyes were blazing with a crazed frenzy, clearly hoping for some kind of fight. His mind went blank however, accepting whatever fate was in store for him. He only hoped that perhaps, down in the main rooms of the castle, the others were safe, and could spend their last few hope-filled moments together before the spell settled into place permanently.

“No!”

As though he had been struck with lightning, Adam opened his eyes, and his head snapped towards the sound of the cry.

It couldn’t be…

He twisted, looking over the edge of the roof, down to the bridge. His heart stuttered when he saw Philippe, Maurice, and most importantly, “Belle?”

Belle’s eyes were wide and terrified. “Gaston, don’t!”

Her warning was all Adam needed. She had come back, she had come back to him, whether to say goodbye forever or stay, it did not matter. He refused to allow harm to come to him when the woman he had come to love was waiting for him.

Gaston was swinging a stone club down on him, but Adam caught it with almost laughable ease. He could see the surprise in the hunter's face, the realization that Adam was just as, if not more, capable of fighting back against him.

It was easy for Adam to overpower Gaston. HIs ego and rage had blinded him, and Adam, for once, had something to fight for beside himself.

For a moment, as he held Gaston over the edge of the castle, Adam had wanted to let go. To let the man feel every bit of pain that Adam had felt for the past ten years. To hurt him for how he had treated Belle, how he had made her feel. For a moment, Adam wanted to return to the selfish little boy he had been ten years ago, and not think about the consequences.

He was not that little boy anymore, however, and he was not a monster. He had not been a monster for quite some time.

Adam dropped Gaston without a second thought, commanding him to leave his home, his castle. He did not care what else the hunter did, and every other thought was pushed out of his head the moment he heard his name be called.

“Adam!”

“Belle.” Adam said, voice breathless as he turned and stared at the woman above him. She reached down, and he easily climbed up towards her, the pain in his shoulder a distant memory. His hand closed around hers, the difference in size so obvious yet so normal after so many months spent together. “You came back.” Adam reached out, unable to keep himself from cupping Belle’s cheek, to convince himself that she was truly standing in front of him, that she had returned. Her smile somehow became even brighter, and she pressed into his touch, eyes closing contentedly. Her hands held onto the one holding her, and for a moment, for one precious, beautiful moment, everything was perfect.

Adam opened his mouth, prepared to tell Belle every single one of his feelings, to confess his love for her. What came out was a roar of agony as his side exploded into white-hot pain. Gaston’s scream barely registered in his ears as Adam collapsed onto the balcony, Belle frantically pressing the edge of her own cloak against the wound, trying helplessly to staunch the flow of blood.

Adam kept his eyes on her, his vision blurring, but never straying. “You came back.”

Belle seemed startled as she brushed her fingers over his cheek. “Of course I came back. I couldn’t let them…” Her arms were suddenly wrapped around his neck, and Adam weakly lifted one arm to wrap around her waist, wishing he could stay in the moment, of holding onto the beacon of hope that had come charging into his life six months ago. “Oh, this is all my fault.”

“Maybe…” Adam stopped Belle, because how could she ever blame herself? Adam was the one who was cursed. “Maybe it’s better this–”

“Don’t talk like that.” Belle’s voice was sharp, a bittersweet reminder of the night they finally began their friendship. Her hands fumbled with the clasp of his cloak. “We’re together again. Everything’s going to be okay now, you’ll see!”

Adam reached up, once again gently touching her cheek. His thumb brushed away tears, and as Belle held onto his hand, he marvelled at how unafraid she was. His claws were sharp, he knew that from the years of accidentally cutting blankets and clothing. He had been so terrified to touch Belle when they first met, and now, she clung to him, and he never wanted to let her go.

The smile that appeared on his face was tender, and loving, and he hoped that every confession he had not been able to say was clear in his eyes. “At least I got to see you one last time.”

Adam’s vision went dark.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, it could have been years, but suddenly his eyes opened again, and the pain was gone.

Briefly, Adam wondered if he had died, especially when he caught sight of the five-fingered human hand that was pushing him to his feet.

His human feet.

Adam gained his balance, and stared at the two human hands coming from his body. He turned, clutching the shirt that covered his human chest, and his eyes fell onto Belle. There was a chill in the air, a chill that he could feel because he was no longer covered in hair. His body felt lighter, he felt calmer.

Belle was watching him with wide eyes, but she stepped towards Adam, reaching out. He instantly took her hands in his own, looking down in awe at how he was able to hold onto her without fear. “Belle… it’s me!”

Belle cocked her head, something she did when faced with something curious, and Adam simply stood patiently, attempting to keep his smile calm as he waited. She ran her fingers through his hair, sending a jolt up his spine, and then her hand cupped his face, the brightest smile he had ever seen lighting up her face. “It is you!”

Adam let out a laugh, and touched Belle’s cheek, the sensation of being able to feel her and hold her without fur interfering almost intoxicating. He pulled her close, and did what he had wanted to do since Christmas.

He kissed her.

Belle’s arms wrapped around his neck, and Adam pulled her close by the waist, and they were finally able to simply hold one another.

A few tears fell down Adam’s cheek as he registered the tell-tale sound of magic and enchantments sweeping through the castle, the sound of the staff all being transformed, their joyful shouts and cheers.

Belle’s embrace tightened, as though knowing exactly what he was feeling, and Adam pulled away just enough to look at her, eyes bright with joy. “I love you.”

Adam had no doubt his expression rivaled the sun, and he pulled Belle close once more, simply hugging her, holding her, thanking her. “And I love you. Always.”

Chapter Text

Adam had once thought that he would be alone forever.

When his mother died, he had given up all hope that there would ever be anyone he could love and trust again. He made a vow to himself, the night after her death, that he would never open his heart. He did not want to feel the pain that came with losing a loved one again.

When he was cursed by the Enchantress, Adam’s vow only became more resolute. He did not believe that anyone could ever love him, with his temper and his cursed form. It was out of the question completely.

Then, Belle had come into his life.

Beautiful, wonderful, fiery, kind Belle.

He had been in awe of her from the moment they met. He admired her fearlessness, the way she spoke back at him, how she never once took his attitude. It was one of her qualities that Adam loved, how she stood her ground and stared down those who attempted to take control.

There were days he was still shocked that she had fallen in love with him after that first night in the castle, that Belle had seen past the beast to see the man within, to see Adam for who he once was.

She loved him, and he loved her.

Adam had been content with their life after the curse was broken. His servants were his family, he had Belle, he even had Maurice, the inventor speaking with him after the curse was broken, and immediately accepting him as a son.

Adam’s heart was full, and he truly believed he was the happiest he could be.

Until Arthur arrived.

Until Juliet.

Until Elaine.

When he and Belle had found out that they were expecting a child for the first time, a year after the curse was broken, Adam had been utterly and completely terrified.

His father had not been a kind man. Adam knew this, particularly after spending time with Maurice, and seeing how loving he was towards Belle. Adam knew that it was his father’s influence and teachings that had paved the way to him being cursed as a child, and he spent countless nights worrying that he would become like his father.

Belle had taken none of that.

They had spent days in the library, Adam talking about his fears, and Belle had stated, not unkindly, that if he ever began acting like his father, she would hit him upside the head with a book.

Adam had laughed more at that line than he ever had before.

It also helped that Maurice had sat with Adam a few days before the baby was born, and had told him about his own father, a man who saw children as a means to an end, who had put Maurice to work in their shop from the moment he could walk, who never had a kind word for his son, and who had seen his inventions as useless creations. Maurice had told Adam that he had left his father’s house the day he was old enough to be on his own, and had never looked back.

“I was so worried when Belle was born.” Maurice admitted quietly, Adam hanging onto his every word. “I did not know how a proper parent should act.” A small smile overtook the man’s face as he looked out at the garden. “Rosie helped, and when I realized I did not want to be like my father, I simply acted the opposite of how he had treated me.”

Maurice had hugged Adam, and encouraged him. Adam realized that Maurice was the type of father he had always wanted, and the type of father he desperately wanted to be to his children.

Not one, but two babies, had come into the world screaming with loud, healthy lungs.

A baby boy with Belle’s dark hair and Maurice’s green eyes, and a baby girl with Adam’s auburn hair and blue eyes.

When Adam and Belle had thought of baby names, two names automatically came to their minds. Coincidentally, one had been for a boy, and the other for a girl.

Their son’s name came from the story that his parents had bonded over. The story both of their mothers loved, a way to honor the women who had inadvertently drawn them together.

“Hello, Arthur.” Adam whispered, cradling his son as though he was made of class, staring down at the tiny child in complete awe.

Their daughter’s name came from her mother’s favorite play, the play that her parents had read together many times while they fell in love.

Belle stroked the baby’s cheek lovingly, a soft smile on her face. “Juliet.”

Adam gazed at his children, feeling slightly delirious with how much adoration he suddenly felt for his family. His son and daughter were perfect, tiny little babies that immediately stole his heart. He and Belle did not sleep after their birth, simply staying awake to gaze at their sleeping children with happy tears in their eyes.

With Arthur’s head on his chest, and Juliet clinging to her mother’s nightgown with an iron grip, Adam held Belle close, kissing her hair, marvelling at how such a wonderful and strong woman was his to love.

As they grew, Adam and Juliet were a force to be reckoned with, and absolutely inseparable. Juliet adored her brother, and Arthur was fiercely protective of her. They encouraged each other to walk and talk, crawling and babbling all over the palace together, having conversations that no one could hope to understand.

Mrs. Potts was enamoured with the little ones, and Chip was delighted to have playmates to spend time with. He barely minded that his new best friends did not understand anything he said.

The two adored the library, the large room being the perfect space for them to run and play. Adam and Belle spent most of their time there, curled together in front of the fire as they read, listening to their children giggling and squealing as they ran amongst the books.

Adam was in constant wonder of his children, watching as they found new games to play and new questions to ask.

The rose that had timed his curse had been restored to a full bloom after he had transformed back, and remained in the West Wing beneath the glass jar. It was no longer a reminder of the mistakes Adam had made, but rather, it was now the manifestation of the love he and Belle had for one another.

Arthur and Juliet were entranced by the glowing flower, and had once asked their parents what it was, and why it glowed.

Belle had paused, going quiet as she looked at Adam to answer.

He had pulled both children into his arms, eyes warm.

“That flower is a magical flower. I learned a very great lesson because of it, and the rose is what reminds me how much I love your mother and the two of you.” He told them, Arthur and Juliet listening hopefully. “It is a good reminder, and we keep it here so that we never forget how important love is to our family.”

Arthur and Juliet clasped hands, and ran off, no doubt to find Cogsworth and torment the poor man, though both Adam and Belle knew he loved the little prince and princess as much as the rest of the palace staff did.

Before his children were born, and before Belle came to him, Adam had always been cold. The contact he had with others was always closed off, proper, and rarely held any affection.

Now, it was rare if he went even an hour without one of his children running to hold his hand, to grab onto his leg, to raise their arms to be carried. He and Belle, whether due to their upbringings, their relationship, or the circumstances the last time they separated, were rarely apart. Adam did not mind that. He loved spending time with his wife, pulling her into his arms for an embrace of a small dance, something that always made Belle laugh.

His favorite evenings were the ones spent in the West Wing, when he and Belle would sit on their bed. Arthur and Juliet would curl up between them, and the small family would read or tell stories. More often than not, on those evenings, the two children would fall asleep, their parents watching with love in their eyes, and Adam would fall asleep with the warmth of his family around him, completely content.

Arthur and Juliet were the most perfect children ever born.

Belle knew that she was biased, of course, but she refused to accept any other answer. Her two little ones were as kind-hearted as their mother, as brave as their father, and the perfect mix of their parents.

Arthur and Juliet were five years old when their family of four became a family of five.

Elaine was born three days before Christmas, and Belle had cried.

Her youngest daughter was a quiet little baby, and had her mother’s hair and hazel eyes. Adam had cried when she was born, harder than he had when Arthur and Juliet were born. Belle had almost been concerned, but she could tell the tears were happy.

“Christmastime was when I realized I was in love with you.” he whispered later in the night, when the children had fallen asleep in the bed, and Elaine was snuggled between them. Belle had shifted to curl into Adam’s side, exhausted but happier than she had ever thought possible. “You know that for so long, that time of year was not happy for me. My mother died, I was cursed, and it just never felt right.” He looked down at their children, eyes sparkling. “Now, it’s the time of year that has changed my life for the better.”

Belle cried again, her joy bursting out of her.

Adam called Elaine their Christmas angel, and Arthur and Juliet were instantly in love with their little sister.

As the three children grew older, Adam and Belle were awed as their children each took after a member of their family, their interests intertwining and completely individual.

Arthur lived up to his namesake, living for adventures and devouring stories like a starving child. He had Belle’s love of books, happiest when spending hours in the library with his mother. As a child, he would be content to simply listen, and when he began learning how to read, Belle guided him through the words, thinking with a warm heart how she had helped his father years prior to learn to read once again. When Arthur discovered his mother’s book of stories that she had given his father during their first Christmas together, he was inspired. He began writing his own stories, filling pages and pages with his words, from poetry to plays to novels. He read his poetry to his family during quiet nights in the library, and each work was met with applause and warm words of encouragement. Arthur flushed each time, delighted by his family’s love for his work.

All of Belle’s children loved books like their mother, but Juliet took after her father, and found love in music. After the curse had been broken, Adam had admitted to Belle that he had once been a prodigy with music, which had been why his relationship with Forte had been so difficult to break. He and Maurice had bonded while repairing the old pianoforte that sat in the corner of the library, and Adam began to play once more. When Juliet was born, she was instantly enraptured by the instrument, calming almost magically when Adam played for her. Soft, quiet songs were his speciality, accompanying music to Belle and Arthur’s reading time, and soon, as Juliet grew, she learned at her father’s side. She was quiet and shy, but her eagerness to learn was obvious. Fife had quickly offered to teach the young princess, and so she became his student, and he her favorite person in the palace besides her parents, brother, and grandfather. She began writing her own melodies, and Arthur offered words to put with her compositions.

Little Elaine, the youngest of the trio, had her father’s spark and her mother’s curiosity. She loved listening to her siblings’ work, and accompanying them around the palace, but when she turned six years old, her attention turned to her grandfather. Maurice was overjoyed the day she approached him and asked to watch him work on his inventions. Elaine was enthralled by all his creations, and begged to help him as she grew up. Adam and Belle had one of the parts of the library changed to become a small area for Elaine to work, just as they had modified a part to be for Juliet, and a part for Arthur. Elaine drew and designed inventions, glasses perched on her nose and her hair tied back as she stuck her tongue out in concentration. Her siblings adored her work, asking her questions and sitting with her while she worked. Elaine delighted in their curiosity.

Belle wished that time would slow down as her children grew, but before she knew it, sixteen years had passed since the curse was broken, her twins were fifteen, and Elaine was ten. Her little ones were growing up, and it was a mix of bittersweet emotions as she watched them exchange their new writings, music, and designs with each other, piled together in front of the fireplace in a tangle of limbs.

Adam sat beside her, a book shared between them, though their attention stayed on their children. They watched as Elaine reached across Arthur to point out a note on Juliet’s sheet music that would work better at another spot in her song, and Arthur adjusted Elaine’s glasses as they fell further down her nose, a fondness on his face reserved only for his sisters.

Belle’s hand wrapped around Adam’s waist, fingers resting above the spot where Gaston had nearly killed him. The scar had remained, even after he had transformed, and Belle found herself resting her hand on the spot absent-mindedly, reminding herself that her husband, the love of her life, had not died after that night.

The library was quiet, and peaceful, and Belle was happy.

After a few more adjustments to her music, Juliet got up, followed by her siblings, and returned her papers and writing instruments to her desk.

“Mama, Papa, will you tell us a story tonight?” she asked as she returned to where her parents sat.

Belle smiled warmly at her daughter, whose blue eyes sparkled like her father’s. “Of course, songbird.”

Eloise used a cloth to wipe the ink from her hands as Arthur helped to retie her hair. “Can it be a new one?” Belle laughed, and Adam hummed.

“I think I know what story we should tell.” he said to their children, voice lowered as if sharing a secret. The trio immediately lit up, their father’s mischievous nature infectious as Belle shook her head fondly. Adam’s arm squeezed around her shoulders, and he looked at her with love. “A story about a village girl who longed for adventure, and the cursed prince she saved.”

Belle beamed. “Gather close, my loves.”

Elaine’s curled into her mother’s lap, and Arthur and Juliet sat at their parents’ feet, leaning against them.

Adam cleared his throat dramatically, making the children giggle, and he smiled at his family as he started to tell the story. “Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind.”

Her husband’s voice filled the library, and Belle relaxed into his side, her hand resting on Arthur’s hair as the story of how love had changed their family was told to their children.