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Chapter Text

How foolish it was, for a man to commit a crime and expect no punishment.

Yes, this was the first human The Beast had seen in years, but it wasn’t any human of interest. Only a decaying, naive man.

“Please!” He’d begged. “Let me go! I won’t say a word!” To whom? The Beast had thought. Surely none could outmatch him. Though it was possible the world outside had changed in the time of the spell, it was impossible for anyone to challenge the monster that lurked in the forgotten castle and win. It was his territory, and his alone. Nevermind the physical advantage he’d have over them.

Hours had passed since The Beast left the old man to rot in the dungeon. He sat by the fire, watching the flames as they roared.

“Your highness?” A candelabra appeared beside him, his wicks unlit. The shadow of a man who once resembled The Beast’s closest confidante now only mirrored a fragile figure of wax.

The Beast did not acknowledge him.

“The man in the dungeon, what shall we prepare him for dinner?” Lumiere asked.

Though The Beast’s temper had already been tempted that day, there was still room for more.

“You dare feed the prisoner before me? To fill the mouth of a thief over mine?”

“I just thought-“

“You will feed him nothing. No one is to see him.”

It often was a poor choice to question The Beast. Lumiere knew this, as he’d been on the receiving end of his temper since he was a child. But even so, he knew his breaking points. He knew when too far was too far.

And he knew The Beast wasn’t quite there yet.

“Sire, he is already skin and bones. Must we let him starve-“

“Enough! He will either die in here or die to the wolves!”

The Beast stood and faced his footman. Though he wasn’t that much shorter, Lumiere did his best not to cower. Still, as the man of wax continued to argue, The Beast began to breathe heavier.

“Have you even thought about how the man got through the mist? Do you know what this could mean? One of these days, someone could walk right in and break the-“

“Eugh!”

As Lumiere began to mention the spell, the floors began to shake and The Beast fell to his knees. The dust within the West Wing rose into the air and bits of the ceilings began falling and shattering on the floor. As the castle shook, brick fell from the chimney onto the fire, putting it out completely.

The Beast clutched his abdomen as he writhed in pain for a few moments until it passed. The episodes lasted only thirty seconds to a minute each time, but each one was worse than the last.

Another petal had fallen.

As the dust settled, Lumiere’s wicks lit with their flames as he walked toward The Rose. His face fell as he counted them. Only six remained.

He waited for The Beast to stand before moving back toward him. The pain had subsided, but it would be back with the next petal. It was only a matter of time before the final one killed him, he thought. That was the witch’s promise. That he would learn to live a life of love, or he would not live at all, as penance for the victims of his crude behavior.

If he had known what was to come of her curse, he would’ve chosen for her to strike him down back then. But perhaps she enjoyed his relentless torture. She seemed to, anyway, when she visited. After each petal had fallen, she would turn up to see the results of her curse, to see if he was any closer to breaking it. Each visit, he’d beg her for mercy. And each time, she’d tell him no.

“Mon amis,” Lumiere said cautiously. “We must try to make amends with this human. Perhaps he has a neighbor, or a friend, or family that will come looking for him.” He pleaded with his master to see the possibility of breaking the curse. “There is so little time left.”

With a shaky breath, he recovered his strength and stood to face Lumiere.

“You will feed him nothing.”

Chapter Text

Beast wasn't expecting Lumiere to be correct when he suggested that the old man would have someone looking for him. In fact, the last thing he'd expected was a girl. No, not a girl, but a young woman. From the window, he watched as she explored the castle grounds. Her horse, wretched thing, led her right to his doorstep.

She crept in through the front gate, then through the gardens, and entered the castle with no hesitation. A bold move, for an uninvited guest. But the creature had already met where she learned that from. Her confidence and arrogance taunted him, even made the Beast curious. And as she stalked through the castle and up to the dungeons, the Beast followed, not far behind.

He examined her from afar. She had a small frame, and she was fair skinned, her cheeks flushed from the coming winter winds, and her hair was a shade of chestnut. Though she'd had it pulled back, strands of it framed her face. She was disheveled, as though she left her home in a hurry. The Beast found it annoying, yet again, that the candlestick was right.

Whispers in the seemingly empty hallways led her straight to the dungeons, the air growing colder as the staircase led the unknowing duo into it's depths.

The young woman called into the dark of the dungeon for her lost loved one. Of course it had to be her father. And from that darkness, a husky voice answered, almost surprised.

"Belle?"

The Beast waited for her to move toward him before silently slipping into the shadows of the room. The stone floor was cold against the pads of his feet, and the autumn breeze blowing through the window didn't help either. He did his best to shrink himself into his cloak. Though, he was not alone here. The various statues carved into each plinth, the gargoyles that rested among the various sconces and trimmings of the castle were very much alive. And he could feel their cold eyes watching him as he watched the intruders, in turn.

The father and daughter spoke in hushed tones. The man, terrified, while the woman, accusatory and worried. He watched them for only a moment, moving around the room to try and get a better view of them- before mistakenly bumping into one of the empty sconces against the wall. Shit.

Their voices stopped, and the daughter turned to face the void of shadows behind her.

"Who's there?" The Beast didn't dare to answer. Not that he was afraid, of course. He was no longer of royal status. What exactly was he, to her? Other than the captor of her father.

The daughter raised her voice. "I know someone is there. Who are you? Reveal yourself!"

Her arrogance mocked The Beast. Title or no, this was still his castle and under his command.

"The Lord of this castle." He growled under his breath as the words slipped from his mouth, his voice deeper than he remembered.

The daughter raised herself up onto her knees, searching the dark for any form or figure to blame.

"So this is your doing? My father is wrongfully imprisoned! Release him at once!"

Not only was she the daughter of a thief, but she was a fool as well, The Beast thought. The tame growl that sat in the back of his throat let itself loose, before challenging the girl.

"Perhaps you did not hear me. I am the Lord of this castle, where you have no power here."

Her confidence simmered as she sat back down onto her legs, unsure of what to make of the voice that challenged her.

"Forgive me," Her voice shook, but only slightly. "I've come for my father. Has he committed a crime?"

"Yes." The Beast hissed as he began pacing the edges of the dungeon, keeping his eye on the girl. "He is a thief, and he will rot in my dungeon forever as punishment for what he stole from me."

"It was only a rose!" The father cried, before falling into a coughing fit.

The Beast scoffed, until the confidence grew again in the daughter's voice. "A life sentence for a rose? Are you insane? I'm the one that asked for-"

"I received eternal damnation for one! He can spare the rest of his petty life."

Her confusion left the daughter in silence. She rested her hands over her father's through the bars.

The Beast's patience was growing thin. He shouldn't have to explain himself to a mere commoner, he thought. With a deep exhale, and the silence between the hanging in the air, he raised his chin in triumph. "Throw her out and leave her to the wolves." He spoke to an unknown force, the eyes of the stone surrounding them.

These amalgamations of what used to be castle staff came to life within the stone and, struggling to carry their own weight, crept over toward the young woman, who now clung to the metal bars of her father's cell. She watched in horror and released a terrified screech before pleading for them to stop, their cold stone hands restraining her by her upper arms. Her father coughed and wheezed as he begged for her release, reaching through the bars for her.

"Wait! No! Please!"

The daughter quickly learned that the more she restrained them, the stone wasn't like human skin and muscle- it did not move with her. Even with the stone scratching her arms, she still reached for her father as the statues slowly dragged her towards the door.

"I'll do anything! Please!"

"There is nothing you can do." The Beast responded, clearly out of patience.

"I said please!"

"I said there is nothing you can do!"

Then the daughter said something he didn't expect.

"Take me instead!"
The Beast raised an unseen hand, that stopped the stone servants in their tracks. They waited for his command, as he decided what to do next. They, as well as any of the inhabitants in the castle knew what having a young woman around could mean for them. And though their stone faces didn't change, there was a split second of hope shared between the servants and their Prince.

He couldn't deny that he felt it too, no matter how far away that hope felt.

With a hesitant breath, he asked for clarification.

"You would do that?" His cold breath visible in the air as he stepped closer to the scene. "You would take your father's place?"

"If I did, would you let him go free?"

You must gain her trust, he thought. She would never set you free if you didn't do the same for her now.

"Yes."

"Unharmed?"

"Yes."

"If I stay here, it would be-"

"Forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever! Or he dies in the dungeon and you will never see him again!"

"I won't see him again either way! That's not fair!"

She had a point, but only one option guaranteed her father's life.

"Make your choice!"

"Come into the light!"

This was something he wouldn't do. He would not receive rejection from her before she made her decision. The Beast released the grip he had on his cloak, and looked down at his hands paws in disgust. Almost as an emotional response, the stone servants released their grip on the young woman, and watched as she practically dove for her father.

"Make. Your. Choice."

The father and daughter exchanged hushed words as the old man cupped her cheeks and she kissed the tips of his knuckles.

"No, my beauty, you must escape now! Before you see it!"

Though the pair were quiet, this was one remark The Beast heard with no mistake. He exhaled in frustration. Patience was not one of his known traits, and he'd already suffered too much of it for one day.

"Forgive me, Papa."

The daughter stood with her back to the cell, and though her father clung to the skirts of her simple dress, she faced the darkness and the mysterious Lord alone. With silver tears streaking her cheeks, she spoke.

"I will stay. You have my word."

"Done."

Chapter Text

"You have my word."

"Done."

As soon as the finality of her promise escaped her lips, The Beast's paw raised, and the living statues emerged from the walls, opening the cell. The Beast stepped forward and lifted the father's forearm, lifting him onto his feet. He couldn't help the gasps that escaped from the daughter as she saw the monster for the first time. As he handed the man off to the living statues, Belle pleaded with him.

"Wait! You have to let me say goodbye!"

The Beast stood in-between them as the thief called for his daughter. "Please! Spare her! Spare my only daughter!" He cried, as his fate was decided. With only a sharp look from their master, the living statues knew they'd have to take the father away, but the echoes of the daughter's screams for her father begged them not to.

Much to the Beast's surprise, the young woman was a fighter. As horrifying as he was to look at, she had to get past him to reach her father. With a leap of faith, she pushed against his arm, attempting to shove the monster toward the cell.

But this was a sorry attempt. He barely moved at all. And much to his reflexes, he instinctively shoved her back- with much stronger force. She fell to the floor, scraping her legs against the cold stone.

The father cried out as the statues pulled him away. "Don't you touch her!" His voice was angry and desperate. "Belle! I'll come back for you! I promise!" His voice echoed as the statues dragged him into the hallway, and down the stairs. He would be sent on a horse back to the nearest crossroads, where he would easily be able to find his way home.

Beast stared at the young woman, and for the first time, their eyes met. She was horrified, her cheeks stained with tears, and her eyes welling up with more. His were equally as surprised, but by his own strength. He hadn't met to hurt her, and yet due to his own hands paws, she was hurt.

What a great first impression.

The Beast backed away from the young woman as she began to sob, and back into the shadows for a moment. This is where he was most comfortable. In the dark, and unseen. However, this wouldn't last, due to a certain waxy figure.

"...Your highness?" Lumiere spoke, his wicks only dimly lit. Beast let out a low growl in response. "Do you think, well, since the girl will be staying with us for," he gulped, "...quite some time, you may want to offer her a more comfortable room?"

He was right, Beast thought. If he was to win her over, she wouldn't last long in the dungeons. Nor would he enjoy climbing the stairs to the dungeons every day. He sighed in defeat, and was about to tell his servant to prepare a room for her, when a voice echoed.

"Who are you?" Belle finally spoke, wiping her tears on her dress and seeking out into the shadows.

Both Lumiere and The Beast turned to face her, unsure of how to answer.

"You didn't let me say goodbye." Her voice was stern this time. "I will never see my father again, and you didn't let me say goodbye."

The Beast looked at Lumiere, and in a silent understanding, the man of wax left to prepare her a bedroom and update the rest of the staff. A guest would be joining them, and they had much to do to prepare. When the door to the dungeons shut once more, Beast finally stepped closer to the girl.

She was small, in comparison to him. The ends of her dress were blood stained from the scrapes on her leg, and the moonlight bounced off her wet cheeks as she looked at the monster before her with an accusatory look. She wasn't scared, or if she was, she did a great job of hiding it.

"I'll-" He needed to speak up. No one likes a coward. "I'll show you to your room."

Belle scoffed. "My room?"

"Do you want to stay in the dungeons?"

"No."

"Then follow-" Beast reached to help her up, but Belle leaned back and away at the sight of his paw, with obvious fearful rejection. He looked at his paw in-between them, and realized that just for a moment, he'd forgotten. It'd been so long since he'd met someone new...

His disgust toward himself turned into frustration and anger, as it always did. "You follow me."

Chapter Text

After exiting the dungeons, Beast and Belle found the man of wax waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. With Lumiere following in tow, The Beast led the eternal guest through the winding halls of the castle. With almost no light to guide their way, it was easy to get lost in a place like this. The decor was dated, but Belle recognized it as a baroque style, with gothic inspiration. She'd read about this type of architecture before, but had never seen it in person. The castle was unlike anything she'd ever seen. And though it was dated, everything still seemed maintained somehow. There wasn't a speck of dust to be found.

Who was in charge of the upkeep? She thought. It certainly wasn't the monster before her. And the candlestick Person? Behind them didn't seem to have hands...

Though Belle admired the haunting beauty of the castle, she felt as if she was being watched. Even the smallest sconces lining the walls had faces carved into them. It was almost unsettling.

What was most definitely unsettling, though, was the hall of armor, where as she walked, the heads of the statuesque knights seemed to turn and follow her. No, not seemed. They were definitely watching her.

When The Beast spoke, she jumped. His husk voice nearly matched the decorum that surrounded them, she thought. Luckily, the person of wax was close enough to catch her in case she tripped. She felt almost comforted by the soft touch of bronze that supported her back. At least they didn't have claws...

"I- Uh..." The Beast stammered as he realized he'd frightened her. Again. "The Castle is your home now, so you're free to wander where you'd like. The kitchens, the ballrooms, the study, even the gardens." He found himself listing the places he knew off the top of his head, though he realized his memory of the palace wasn't quite what it used to be. It'd been so long since he'd really left his quarters...

"Everywhere except the West Wing."

Belle wasn't fully paying attention to his words, but more of the occasional lisp that formed when the creature spoke.

"Why?" She asked casually. "What's in the West Wing?"

"It is none of your concern." The Beast's voice was stern and defensive.

"Is it dangerous?" Belle had noticed the occasional cracks in the walls, as if the very foundation of the place was struggling. Every speck of dust was swept away, but there was no hiding that.

"No, but-"

"Then why is it-" She knew better than to have pushed him to tell her why, but Belle was just as stubborn as he was. And as far as she knew, he didn't have a good answer as to why.

The Beast turned and faced her, looming over her small frame.

"It is forbidden. You are never to set foot there. Do you understand?"

Her voice caught in her throat. He was definitely getting defensive. And just like an animal, defense meant violence.

"Do you understand?" He stepped closer to her, so they were only mere inches from each other. Only inches from ripping her apart, she thought.

"Yes!" She cried before he could lay a hand on her.

The Beast looked up to meet the disapproving gaze of the waxed figure behind her. Lumiere was shaking his head, reminding him that he was supposed to woo her- not scare her into submission.

With an annoyed huff, The Beast spun back around and led his new guest up the stairs, into the East wing. Luckily, Lumiere had spread the word of the girl, and the entire east wing was spruced up just for her. It had been the Queen's wing when the prince was merely a boy, and was completely untouched. Until today.

Somber memories of his mother danced around the group as they entered this part of the castle. What seemed to be men, women, and children built of wax lined the halls, their candles all lit. It seemed Lumiere pulled out all the stops when it came to preparing this wing for her, Beast thought. It looked completely different from the rest of the gloomy castle.

Once the group arrived at the Queen's suite, The Beast hesitated before opening the door for his guest. Much to his surprise, the double doors opened on their own, revealing a bedroom glittering in gold details and the finest furnishings on this side of the globe.

The sight was all too familiar.

"This," He stuttered once more. "This is your suite. If you need anything, anything at all, my servants with attend to you. All you need to do is ask."

Belle couldn't believe her eyes. All of this hidden beauty and wealth, just sitting stagnant in the woods outside her village... It took her breath away. She stepped into the room (though she could hardly call it a bedroom- it was the size of her father's cottage) and ogled at the furnishings. The fireplace. The wardrobe. The bed... The bed. It was twice, no, three times the size of hers at home.

She'd read a story before, about two poor friends who were offered a mansion of their own. The girls were given all the food they could eat, elegant clothes, enough for them to never worry about money again. But in the end, it was a trap, set by an evil sorceress.

That is what Belle felt now.

It was all so beautiful, but she wasn't here of her own choice. She was a prisoner in a beautiful, golden cage. Her eyes filled with tears as she kept her back to her captor, who menacingly filled the doorframe. How long before she was his servant? His meal? Were the candle people his prisoners too? How long before her skin became wax as well?

The Beast watched as she admired the suite. She stuck out from it all. Not because of her simple clothing or her disheveled hair, but something else. He couldn't quite understand what is was though, nor would he have time to figure it out, before a nagging voice whispered to him.

"Dinner," It said. "Invite the girl to dinner." Lumiere nudged his master from below, suggestively motioning toward their new guest.

Beast cleared his throat. "One more thing. Each night, you will join me for dinner."

This demand was enough to enrage Belle. Finally, an excuse to let out her frustrations. All her fears of what he'd do to her as his prisoner were gone. He'd taken everything from her in a matter of seconds. What more could he do to torment her?

"Dinner?" She scoffed as she faced him. "You've taken me as your prisoner and you want to have dinner with me?"

The Beast was not expecting a response.

"What if I refuse?" She challenged him. "Hm?"

The thought of him mauling her was more pleasant than dining with him. The sheer audacity for him to ask this of her, on top of everything, made her laugh.

But this mocking laughter only angered him more. How was he supposed to fall in love with her? Or worse, her fall in love with him?

She saw him as an animal, a monster. That was clear. So perhaps he needed to play the part. On all fours, he leapt toward her and stopped directly in front of her, his fangs mere inches away from her face.

"You will join me for dinner." He snarled in a hushed voice. "That is not a request!"

She had no rebuttal for him. No argument. No challenging one-liners. She was clearly out of her depth, and though she'd volunteered to stay, she wished more than anything that she was back home. Safe. Actually, she'd prefer the forest wolves. At least they'd kill her quick instead of dining with her first.

Frozen in fear, she had no choice but to meet his icy gaze. Once he was satisfied with her silence, The Beast raised back onto his feet and left the room, slamming the double doors behind him. He left his servants behind as he made his way toward the West Wing. Just as the East was a different atmosphere, the West was as well- though in a much more horrific way. The tapestries that lined the hallways were shredded and torn, the paintings ripped apart, the mirrors smashed. The typical few side table and plinths that once held vases and busts of previous kings were smashed to pieces, their faces and wooden limbs broken and scattered onto the cold floor.

As The Beast entered his suite, the furnishings here were in a similar state. As the furnishings in the East seemed alive, the ones here were no more. They unfortunately had fallen victim to the Beast's anger in the early days of his curse. And, of course, looming over everything was the painted portrait of his past self. Claw marks stretched over the painting, leaving nothing but a mangled face in their wake.

The only light that illuminated in the shadows of the West Wing was the ominous light of the enchanted rose, hidden under a bell jar. This is where The Beast spent his mornings, his days, and his nights. And this is where he would remain on this very evening, he'd decided. That rose, the symbol of his deterioration, the object that took his life from him... How ironic it was that the most beautiful thing in this room, was the thing slowly killing him. With every fallen petal came a world of pain, and a small part of the once-prince died. Luckily, he had some time before another one would fall.

His eyes fell to the mirror, another "gift" of his curse. With this enchanted mirror, he could see anything he desired. Whether that was memories from his past, or a peek into the village. He could even see what his life would've been like if he hadn't been cursed. That was the cruelest vision of all. He was able to see exactly how he would have aged. And just how much he would've looked like his father...

Instead, The Beast picked up the mirror, and shut his eyes before he could see his current reflection. "Show me the girl."

The mirror obeyed, and illuminated with an image of Belle. She sat on the bed, and was cleaning the blood from her leg. Even through the mirror, he could hear the shrill voice of the wardrobe behind her, consoling her and offering rags to wrap her wound with.

They'd only met for a few moments before he'd hurt her. How awful was that? Finally, a chance to break free from the curse, and he'd blown it. And he'd be stuck with her. Forever. He could let her go free, but that would just be embarrassing. Emasculating. To make such a fuss only to let her go in the end? The Beast watched and admired the beauty of his prisoner, before he felt a cold chill run down his spine.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" The voice of The Enchantress echoed from behind him. He could hear the sly smile in her voice as she taunted him.

The Enchantress, Feya, often made her visits after a petal has fallen. In her words, she enjoyed "tracking his progress" on breaking her spell. But from his perspective, he believed she enjoyed his suffering.

"Feya..." He sighed, already annoyed by her presence. She stepped around him and held her finger under his chin, taunting him to look up at her.

"What, my beast? Do you not enjoy the gift I brought you?" Her voice was filled with glee. "That poor old man, he would have perished out in the cold. What a blessing it was he found your silly castle." She stroked the hair on his face before snatching the mirror from his claws and walking with it.

Of course. She'd led them here.

"And how convenient. His only daughter? Sacrificing herself to rescue him?"

"Stop it." Beast held his head in his hands.

"What, Beastie? No 'thank you'?" She cackled. "I did you a favor!" Feya slammed down the mirror in front of him. "She's even your type! Small, beautiful, and foolish enough to agree to an eternity with you!"

"Feya, please stop this." The Beast's voice was shaky as he plead with her. Finding the strength to make eye contact, he begged once more. "Please..."

The Enchantress tilted her head and stroked his misshapen face. "You should have married me when you had the chance." Though they were simple, her words were bitter and cold.

"Beg."

"Feya-"

"Beg for my forgiveness, Beast."

With the flick of her wrist, her magic grabbed Beast by his throat and suspended him in the air. Her taunting grin twisted into a vengeful frown of disapproval. As he struggled to breathe, she continued to demand he beg for mercy, to which he complied.

"Forgive...me..."

She motioned once more, and her magic dropped his limp body onto the floor, with a loud thud echoing as he landed. He gasped for air, and fell into a coughing fit. The Enchantress knelt down and lifted his sorry chin once more.

"That's more like it." She grinned.

"I'll see you in two weeks."

Chapter Text

"Now when I said 'invite her to dinner', I didn't mean demand her attendance!" The former footman stood in the main dining room, across the table from a porcelain woman and wooden, ticking man, who stood by the fireplace.

Cogsworth, the former head of the household, shook his head as he ticked angrily at Lumiere. "You shouldn't have encouraged this at all. How is she supposed to fall in love with him now? After that mess of an introduction?" As he continued to scold, the ticking continued, completely involuntary. "It would have been better if she hadn't found us at all!"

"Now, Cogsworth." The porcelain woman spoke. Mrs. Potts' pale frame was curved and smooth, and her skin was entirely made of porcelain. Her body resembled a piece of fine china, and what would've been her hair, was pulled back into a cap-like lid of a sugar bowl. She was once the head of the kitchens, and now she resembled an ornament of the cupboards. Though her body may have been fragile, her spirit was anything but.

"We've never had a chance like this. In all these years, no one has ever walked through those doors. Especially beautiful young women!" She placed her gold leaf hands on her "hips". "His highness may have engaged in," She paused. "...frivolous activities, but I wouldn't expect him to try to woo the old man. Would you?"

Both Lumiere and Cogsworth refrained from answering, and Mrs. Potts continued.

"Now I know we're all scared. But we can't give up hope. I won't allow myself to give up, not until I hear the sound of my. boy's laughter as he runs through these halls again." She sighed. "I have a good feeling about this girl! Just go and speak with her, she is absolutely-"

The doors to the dining room swung open with a chill, dousing every flame on each candle in the room.

"Where is she?"

The Beast arrived just in time for dinner.

"Your Highness!" Cogsworth cheerily welcomed Beast as he crept into the room. The man of wax frantically began re-lighting the candles as he watched his master inspect the meal choices laid out on the table for that evening, quickly choosing to divulge and distract his master with the food.

"You're just in time! The cook has prepared an extraordinary menu for tonight. He's prepared a marvelous ham, doused in honey and fruits, as well as four different types of soups, a tasting of swan, foie gras, seven different servings of pie, creme puddings, custard, and-"

"I said, where is she?"

In order to avoid the wrath of his master's temper, Cogsworth shifted gears and switched his attention to the missing guest.

"Ah, yes, the girl-"

"Belle."

"R-Right..." Cogsworth wrung his bronze hands together. "I shall go see about her, yes?"

Without waiting for a response, he quickly slipped out of the room to check on their guest, while he prayed that Mrs. Potts and Lumiere could manage to stall the master, before things got out of hand.

The Beast circled the table before choosing to anxiously pace in front of the fire. His interaction with The Enchantress definitely shook hi up, and made him more restless than usual. He had to try harder to break the spell, he'd decided.

Mrs. Potts spoke up. She'd practically raised the boy, and because of this, she felt ever so guilty that she didn't discipline him more. Perhaps if she'd been more strict with him, he wouldn't have treated Feya the way he did. Perhaps he'd be more loving and kind and not, well, a monster.

"Try to be patient, dear. She's been through a lot today. This is all new to her, and it may take some time for her to adjust." Her tone was calm and reassuring, as she did her best to reignite some hope within The Beast.

But Lumiere decided to finally voice his concerns. "But we don't have time! The rose is wilting much faster than we expected, and at this rate, we'll be dead by Christmas!"

At that last comment, Mrs. Potts shot him a look.

From his looming silence, The Beast spoke. "It's no use!" Though it was a loud statement, it wasn't in anger. It was of heartbreak and desperation. "She's so beautiful and I'm so..." He looked down at his claws. "Well, look at me!" His voice was filled with pain as he faced the reality of their situation. "How am I supposed to make her love me when just the sight of me scares her away?"

While the prince had indulged in love affairs in the past, they weren't truly out of love. There was always something to gain; riches, fame, lust... And especially with The Enchantress, Feya. That's what had gotten him in this mess in the first place. The subject of true romantic love was a mystery to The Beast, and it was clear to him now that just his looks and riches wouldn't be enough to win Belle over.

But lucky for his prince, Lumiere was a romantic.

"You must show her there is nothing to be afraid of. Earn her trust, apologize for your mistakes, and speak from the heart. Take note of her interests, shower her in compliments-"

"But you must be sincere about it all. You must be truthful." Mrs. Potts chimed in.

"Oui! Don't just tell her how you feel- show her! Dress in your finest clothes to meet her, pull her chair for her.. You must-"

"Act like a gentleman! Straighten up, look your best, and above all-"

The Beast huffed and rolled his eyes. There was so much he had to remember. Too much, he thought.

"You must control your temper." Lumiere and Mrs. Potts said together. This would be the hardest task for their prince, and they knew it. But if they had any hope of being human again, they had to encourage him to try.

A curious thud interrupted the trio, and all turned to see that Cogsworth had returned from checking on their guest. It seemed he had attempted to arrive silently, but was given away by the creaks of the door.

"Well?" The Beast asked anxiously. "Where is she?"

Cogsworth was frozen in place, horrified of what was to come.

"...Who?" He replied quietly, in a moment of panic. When The Beast began to huff, he quickly retracted that question. "Oh yes! The girl! Well, actually," he began to stammer. "She is in the process of, um..."

The Beast began slowly walking toward the clock, anger rising with each step. As he got closer, the ticking man began to talk faster.

"She's...not coming."

Without a word of warning, The Beast shoved Cogsworth out of his way, and leapt up the stairs into the East Wing, with his band of loyal servants following in tow. They begged him to remember what they said, and to stay calm, only these pleas would be ignored, and followed up by a large banging on the door to the East suite.

"I thought I made it clear that dinner was not a request!" Beast shouted, absolutely furious that the door had been locked.

From behind it, Belle responded with as much sass as he'd offered her. "I thought I made it clear that I'm not hungry."

He growled. "I am the Lord of this castle! I will tell you when you are hungry and when you will eat! And you-"

"Don't be ridiculous!" She snapped. "You can't go around ordering people to be hungry. It doesn't work like that!" Even though she hadn't eaten since that morning, Belle refused to let him win this one. She only prayed his animal-like ears couldn't hear her stomach growling.

When Lumiere, Mrs Potts, and Cogsworth finally caught up to him, the man of wax tapped his arm and whispered, "Please try. Now is your chance!"

A low, frustrated growl escaped his throat as The Beast tried to collect himself. "I am going to ask one more time." Though he meant it as a sincere statement, it came off as a warning, to which Belle did not take kindly.

"Would you...be so kind...as to please join me..." His voice began to soften. "...for dinner?"

As he eagerly awaited her response, he placed his ear up to the door and heard a sigh as she made her decision.

And in a plain, sweet voice, Belle replied with a smile, "No, thank you."

This, as to be expected, set off Beast's temper, as he banged on the door once more.

"You can't stay in there forever!" He demanded, to which she responded with banging on her side of the doors.

"Oh, yes I can!"

In a fit of rage and frustration, a new rule was decided for his guest's, no, prisoner's fate. He huffed in defeat, but that didn't mean she had the last word.

"Fine. If she doesn't eat with me, then she doesn't eat at all." He turned to his frightened head-of-household. "No one is to see her. Is that clear?"

"But-" Mrs. Potts started to argue, but she knew her prince's temper well. And she would be of no use to Belle if she were in pieces.

Cogsworth sighed. He had no choice but to obey his prince's wishes, even if they were self-sabotaging.

"No one, your highness."

Chapter Text

ch.6 - If I Can't Love Her

The Beast, once again, found himself looming over the enchanted rose. He paced around it as it taunted him, desperately trying to rationalize how Belle could be so stubborn, so unwilling to obey. Couldn't she see he was trying?

He counted the petals- only six left.

"What was I thinking?" The Beast sighed and picked up the enchanted mirror. The mirror obeyed his silent wishes, and revealed the image of Belle, staring out the bedroom window, searching for the distant lights of her village. No doubt, she was mourning her life there. She probably had lots of friends, even suitors who desired her hand.

"I'm just fooling myself, aren't I?" He asked, to no one in particular. "She'll only ever see me as a monster."

As these words left his lips, the rose began to unfurl. Only slightly, but enough for Beast to notice.

"No!" He cried, begging for it to stay intact. "No...no." His voice shook in fear, as he desperately watched it begin to wilt. No petals fell, not yet anyway.

"What was it they said?" Trying to recall what his servants had suggested he do to earn her trust, he made a mental list. "Shower her in compliments, be truthful and sincere, look your best, and act like-" The image of Belle shifted and revealed a reflection of The Beast. Only, it wasn't of him in his gruesome form. It was an echo of the man he could've been.

"A gentleman. A gentle...man."

He placed his paw upon his face as he locked eyes with the distant stranger in the mirror. He felt his once-soft skin, his bare lips, his untangled hair...

If he wanted, he could've stared at the mirror for the rest of time. But The Beast had other plans.

He had to try again.

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Belle found herself snooping through the desks and shelves of her new bedroom. It didn't feel like hers, if she were honest. It was only a shadow of someone else's past, and she knew that. Though the Beast's servants had done their best to tidy the place for her, some things still remained.

The wardrobe had showed her the collection of immaculate dresses that remained frozen in time, waiting to be worn by their lost owner. The desk drawers contained faded stationary, and dried ink pots, and a small collection of history books rest on top of the desk. She'd have to read those later, she thought.

Bn the bedside table, she discovered a jeweled hairbrush, still holding the aged golden hair within its bristles. It must've belonged to someone highly important, she thought. All that glamour for a hairbrush... But what was most intriguing was the journal that hid in the back of the drawer. It was encased in gold, and also decorated with the finest jewels, as if he hairbrush and the book were a matching set.

As Belle flipped through its pages, she realized it was more than a journal, but a diary.

Before she could dive into it, she heard muffled speaking from outside the doors to the suite. The diary was returned safely to its hiding spot, as she awaited the inevitable entrance from the incoming guests. However, once the voices stopped, she could only hear the equal pacing of what seemed to be a metal-clad guard, posted outside of her door.

So she was on lockdown, now?

Surely, if she left the room, her escape would be reported back to the Beast... And she did not wish to encounter him for a third time tonight.

"If only there were another way out..." Belle whispered to herself.

As soon as she spoke, a small panel in the wall opened up beside the bedframe. She gasped in surprise at the sudden granting of her wished.

A secret door. It was most intriguing...

It wasn't the size of a full door, and as she inspected it, she guessed it was a servants' tunnel, to quickly aid and attend to those who requested their services.

What are the chances this will lead to the kitchens?, she thought. Though she had refused dinner, she was, in fact, quite hungry.

There was only one way to find out. With a curious hesitation, Belle entered the tunnel, following the self-lighting torches that, she hoped, would show her the way.

Chapter Text

It wasn't unlike Belle for her curiosity to get the better of her. As she followed the tunnel into the depths of the castle, she discovered the inner secrets of the society that somehow still thrived within its walls. Untouched footprints of past visitors crept through the halls, most likely servants, hurriedly rushing to their requestor. Even the hall itself was maintained. The walls were covered in a stone mosaic, which must've been carefully crafted. The workmanship took her breath away as she traced the story running through the walls.

The mosaic depicted each season surrounded the castle and its gardens, starting with Summer, and down each new winding path, fading into a different season. The torches lining the wall led her through the bright colors of Summer, and while she could hear voices coming down the path to Autumn, the light begged her to follow into Winter.

Perhaps they weren't leading her to the kitchens after all.

Winter was the longest pathway by far. The flowers began to die, the archways were covered in snow, and even the atmosphere in the hallway got colder. Darker. Belle hugged her cloak around her as she cautiously continued down the path.

The mosaic depicted a cemetery, also covered in snow, all except for a single statue of a man, who like the rest of the characters in the mosaic, was frozen in time. His arms stretched and yearned toward the end of the hallway, where two torches lit a singular, plain, wooden door.

There was no turning back now, Belle thought.

She reached for the handle, only for it to unlock and open itself, welcoming her inside. It was completely pitch black inside, which Belle was curious of. Did the magic of the castle stretch everywhere but here? Or was it as scared as she was to enter?

Putting her fear aside, she lifted a torch from the wall, held it in front, and with a breath of confidence, she entered.

From what all she could see, the room was filled with covered paintings, barrels of wine, stacks of firewood, and most curious of all, a table in the center, mostly covered by books, maps, and other scattered items. Belle rested the torch in a wall sconce before lighting a few candles with its flame. Once the light began to fill the room, she could see that this area of the castle was completely untouched. Dust particles filled the air as she skimmed through the books that slept on the table.

How long had all this been hiding here? She thought.

A few of the laid out scrolls were the plans of the castle, accounting for the gardens as well. Others were maps of the surrounding area, including her village which, in this depiction, hadn't been completely finished yet. They must've been decades old, as the village hadn't changed at all since she and her father moved there when she was a child.

Among the other residents of the table was a history book- an unfinished, handwritten account of the castle and its inhabitants. Before she could dive into it's secrets, she was interrupted by the outline of a figure, standing in the far corner of the room.

She quickly lifted herself from the table and held a candle in front of her.

"Hello?" She called out, before regretting this decision. Never, ever call out to the things in the dark that scare you, she thought. She knew better than that.

When the figure didn't respond, she walked closer to it, praying it wasn't the Beast, finally ready for his "dinner" and to devour her. But once she was closer, she could see it was something tall, covered by a sheet.

Without taking time to second-guess this decision, Belle removed the sheet, only to be met by the stony gaze of a statue- the exact statue from the mosaic. Only this one wasn't desperately reaching, like the last, no. This was a figure, standing confident and tall, with a single arm outstretched, as if asking for someone's hand. His other hand was tucked behind his back, hiding a rose.

This figure was...handsome. To say the least. His eyes held such a sadness. A yearning for whom he was reaching toward, which in this case, was her. His lips were slightly pursed, as if he were trying to say something, but couldn't find the words. He was completely lost and frozen in time. Belle carefully walked closer to it, and placed her hand on his cold, gray cheek. The stone was incredibly smooth, so smooth it almost felt like skin. Even the curves in is hair were perfect.

Someone spent an amazing amount of time carving him.

She noticed an inscription on the pedestal he stood on, but once she crouched and held the light towards it, she could see part of it was broken off. All she could make out from it was "His Highness, Prince...", while the rest had been lost, most likely due to decay. Everything in this room seemed old and forgotten, unlike the clearly maintained state of the rest of the castle.

Belle pulled herself back up to take another look at the statue, before tripping on her skirts and falling backwards. As she fell, her outstretched hand caught onto something, or perhaps, someone, as she felt the stony outstretched hand in hers. No, the statue hadn't moved, she reassured herself of this was she pulled herself back up. But how coincidental it was that he was there to catch her. It was almost magical.

"Why, thank you." She laughed, as she realized the oddity of the situation, and spoke to the mysterious statued prince. How she wished he were a living statue- she had so many questions for him.

"Was this your castle, then? Did the Beast take it from you?" She asked aloud, with no expectations for a response. Her rescuer was just a statue, after all. Belle looked up at him, studying his face, just in case he decided to respond. When she was met with an unwavering silence, she sighed and walked back over to the table.

"That's too bad, I would've loved to have dined with you instead. You make much better company."

Dinner. Just the thought of food made her stomach growl- almost as loud as the Beast's. With a defeated sigh, she looked toward the door, where the torches still lit her way back to her room. To her surprise, she watched them as they snuffed themselves out, and turn down the path of Autumn instead.

"I'm afraid I must leave you for the night." She spoke to the statue once more, setting the candle down on the table. "I'm sorry to leave you in the dark, but I'll be back. I promise." With a whisper, she blew out the small flame and turned back into the hallway, leaving everything as best as how she found it, just in case.

The voices from the Autumn hall grew louder as she tried to forget the forgotten prince's face. His stone expression lingered in her mind as she entered the back door into the warm kitchens, where servants of all types hurried across the floor, cleaning up what seemed to be the mess created from dinner preparations.

The first to notice Belle's entrance was Lumiere, who sat in a wooden chair at a table, talking to a standing Mrs. Potts, who was polishing silver.

"My, my! Look who has joined us at last!"

As the rest of the staff welcomed her, they made it clear that they weren't going to let her go hungry. If she wanted to dine with their master, that would be her choice. If not, then she would be their guest, and from the staff's excitement, she could only guess that they loved to entertain.

Their cheery welcome was enough for Belle to leave the mental image of the statue behind her, for the moment. That would have to be a mystery she'd solve later, on her own.

For now, it was time for dinner.

Chapter Text

While Belle explored the hidden passages and their secrets, The Beast had made his way into the kitchens himself- a place he'd rarely been.

It was warm, bright, and filled with laughter and the echoes of timeless conversations between the castle staff. At least, it was, until his looming presence became known. A hush fell over the room and laughter died as he entered. An awkward silence hung in the air until someone spoke.

"Your grace!" A woman's voice said, startled. As she stepped forward, the burning fire of the ovens reflected off her translucent skin. The Beast marveled at her as he realized her body was completely made of a teal colored glass, much like many of the vases scattered throughout the castle. She seemed so fragile, much like some of the other servants, but at first glance, it almost looked as if she were made of ice.

Sybille was once a lady's maid, an expert of royal fashion across France. She was up to date on the latest trends, which make-up styles to try, and what hairstyles were out of season in the courts. Now, she wasted away, like all the others, cursed to be nothing but a decoration.

Though she was confident around the royal household, she'd had her fair share of run-ins with the prince, and the kitchen was the last place she'd ever expected him to be. With his regular rotation of staff attending to other duties, she had no choice but to spare the outspoken children in the room and tend to whatever The Beast needed.

"How may we be of service, your highness?" She offered a small curtsy, and the rest of the staff followed in suit.

Beast scanned the room, and without engaging in eye contact, he spoke his demands.

"A dinner tray. Two plates. Two cups of wine."

If Belle would not come to dinner, he thought, I will bring dinner to her. Perhaps it wasn't too late to start over.

Sybille turned to face her peers, and ushered for them to begin preparing the requested meals. As the staff followed suit, Sybille thought to distract their master while he waited, as he insisted on apparently standing in the middle of the kitchens.

"Is the other plate for our guest?" She asked as she pulled a chair for him to sit, to which Beast did not acknowledge. "Perhaps I shall...tidy you up a bit while we wait?"

Did she actually suggest she could make me look better? He thought, as he silently watched the staff scurry about, fulfilling his requests.

Luckily, they still had leftover food from their previous attempt at dinner that evening, so it didn't take too long to fill two plates, two cups, and a tray filled with goods for the unlikely pair to enjoy. As they made their final touches, Sybille spoke again, against her better judgement.

"Although it is not my place to insert myself, might I suggest a gentle approach? A soft knock at the door? A smile, perhaps?"

The Beast turned to face the eager servant as he was handed his requested tray.

"You're right." He spoke plainly.

She grinned at his approval.

"It isn't your place."

Sybille's smile faded as The Beast exited the kitchens and headed toward The East Wing.

--------------------------

The dinner made by the castle staff was divine. It was all of a sudden clear to her that they were the life of the dreary castle, and as if they'd been waiting just for her, they each welcomed her to their home with open arms- which was a much more pleasant welcome than the one The Beast had provided.

It wasn't just a simple dinner, either. It was a performance. Though she was just a simple farm girl at their table, they each made sure to treat her like royalty. She didn't grow up terribly poor, as her father always made sure there was food on their table, but there were occasional nights where their bread and potatoes weren't enough.

If only Papa could taste this food now, she thought.

If dinner was going to be like this every night, she'd have a much easier time settling in to her new life at the castle. And that was the goal of this dinner; Lumiere thought it best that they pull out all the stops to show she wasn't a prisoner, but a guest.

As quickly as the first course arrived, empty dessert plates left the dining room and back to the kitchens to be scrubbed and polished.

With a satisfied sigh, Belle sunk in her seat.

"What do you think, Mademoiselle?" Lumiere appeared behind her chair, and offered his metallic 'hand'.

"Oh, Lumiere, that was incredible." She exhaled, before taking his hand and following him back into the kitchens. As if she were royalty, the staff began bowing and curtseying at her entrance.

"Please, you don't need to do that." She shook her hands anxiously. "I am one of you now, and I cannot thank you enough for what you've done for me tonight."

"Yes, yes, good show everyone." A nasally voice picked up, belonging to none other than the head of staff, Cogsworth.

He clapped his hands together, and a chime rang out from what Belle could only assume was his abdomen. "And would you look at the time! Off to bed with you, mademoiselle!"

"Bed? After all that excitement? I couldn't possibly go now." She laughed joyously. "I'd love to take a look around, if that's alright."

"Absolutely not-"

"Why of course!" Lumiere interrupted, linking his arm with hers. Knowing that The Beast could be lurking anywhere, his confidante knew it would be best to keep her away from The West Wing at all costs.

"Mind if we join? My friend, here, gives an amazing tour of the castle, you see." He gestured suggestively at Cogsworth.

"Is that so?" Belle raised a brow. "It is my first time in an enchanted castle, after all."

"Enchanted!" Cogsworth chuckled. "My dear, it is much more magical than you might think."

With Cogsworth swayed into Lumiere's plan, the trio began their tour thru the dining room, and out into the grand hall.

---------------------------------------

As Sybille had suggested, The Beast knocked gently on the doors to the queen's suite, expecting a response from his new guest. But when she didn't answer his calls, he broke the lock by force and entered the room to find no sign of Belle.

Just a single, opened door to the servants' passageways.

He almost followed the passage to investigate further, until he heard the sounds of voices coming from the hallways behind him, echoing from the grand hall.

Beast set the tray of food down on the writing desk, and exited the suite to spy on the group. This was often how he lived his life- watching others interact, while he hid in the shadows. The Prince had already burdened them with the curse, it was only fair that he stay away from the majority of them, until the curse was finalized.

And what he saw now was a sight he'd never seen; Belle was smiling and laughing with Lumiere as Cogsworth led them on their tour of the castle. He couldn't hear exactly what they laughed about, but with Lumiere's arm linked with Belle's, The Beast felt what could only be a sting of jealousy.

He knew there was no harm in this small act, but it pained him that he'd never be able to make Belle smile like that. She'd never light up as he entered a room. She wouldn't miss him if he were gone. She-

"Oh Lumiere, it's all so beautiful! I had no idea!" Belle remarked, then sighed.

"If only he weren't here."

This hurt like a stab to the chest. Beast felt the air catch in his throat as he felt any hope of her approval leave his body. Of course she'd made up her mind. How could he be so foolish as to think she'd ever consider him anything more than the monster he was?

He watched as their shadows disappeared into another part of the castle, before he leapt down the staircase and sulked back into The West Wing.

It was hopeless. She could never love him, that was clear.

Like a fish on a hook, all he could think to do was let her go. It would just be more painful to let everyone believe they had a chance at breaking the spell. That he had a chance of anyone loving him as he was.

Come morning, he'd tell her she was free to go.

Chapter Text

It was only a white lie, really, when she had told sirs Cogsworth and Lumiere that she was ready for bed. Belle didn't have a habit of being untruthful. In fact, she was too honest, more than anything, which she often did not recognize was an unwelcome trait.

In Cogsworth's tour of the castle, he often spoke of the lavish parties and events that used to take place. The glittering attire, the elite attendees, the imported decor and cuisine... It was all in "exquisite taste", he had said.

Belle had tried to ask about the magic that quite obviously surrounded the place and its inhabitants, but Lumiere quickly would change the subject and encourage his partner to share more information about the architectural design, or the many, many art pieces throughout the galleries.

What happened here? She wondered.

It was if they feared discussing it. And this was perhaps clearer the further she ventured into the forbidden West Wing. The more she saw, the more horrified she was.

Was the destruction of The West Wing the result of the Beast's anger? The scattered claw marks and scratches up the walls seemed to prove this so.

It was only until she stood outside the door to the main suite that she had any sort of hesitation. The layout was identical to the East, but clearly differed in its state of upkeep. This seemed intentional to Belle, as she could only assume it wasn't just forbidden for her, but for everyone but Him.

With a breath of confidence, Belle pushed open the doors to the suite, and was met with a cold breeze and a stench of disrepair.

The monster's lair, she thought.

It reminded her of one of her storybooks, where adventurers entered a monsters lair, only to find the remains of their missing companions. A mystery solved, but at what cost?

She shivered as she stepped over broken glass and ducked under torn, falling curtains. As she did so, she prayed to any deity that would listen that the demolished furniture that spread across the suite weren't cursed companions like those in the rest of the castle.

She didn't want to know the answer to that mystery, even if the answer wouldn't surprise her.

The suite was dimly lit by a distant roaring fireplace, and it wasn't until she stepped in front of the light and scared herself with her shadow that she noticed the array of paintings along the walls. And after searching for and lighting a small candle, she approached the watchful faces of the paintings and took in every detail she could.

This may be her one chance to find some real answers about the nobility who once resided here.

There were three paintings in total: A completely destroyed portrait of what she could only assume was of the king, a portrait of a woman, a queen, that remained completely untouched, and-

Belle gasped as she saw it. It was torn, by the Beast's claws no doubt, but the eyes... The eyes were unmistakable. The same eyes she had seen in the statue from the passage. These were bright blue, but still filled with the same yearning and aching as the stony figure.

Hello again, she thought.

Though only a portrait, his emotion was clear; He was in pain. Perhaps he was just as trapped here as she was. Even in the portrait, she could feel the anguish they shared- the longing to be set free.

Belle held the candle closer to the painting, careful not to let the flame get too close. Paint was highly flammable, she recalled, as her father had accidentally set some of his work aflame some years back.

The light of her candle drew out the color and detail of the portrait, and almost brought a sense of life to it. She began to reach her hand out, to touch his face the same way she did the statue, but was interrupted by the flame dying, and burning wax dripping onto her hand.

She seethed as she dropped the candle onto the floor, and waited a few seconds for the initial pain to seize before rubbing the dried wax off of her hand. Belle scanned the room for a water pail, or even a flower vase to borrow its water from.

What she found instead was indeed a flower, but without a vase.

Suspended in the air, under a dome of glass, was a single rose.

Perhaps this was what Cogsworth had meant, by implying there was more magic to be found within the castle. This rose seemed anything but ordinary, as its pink glow beckoned her to it. She could've sworn she heard the wind whisper as Belle moved closer.

"Approach..." it called.

Upon further inspection, she saw it was missing the majority of its petals, and the remains of those it'd lost lay still on the table just below it, rotting away in silence. As she touched the glass barrier, the glass melted away and floated around her, as if the very magic that held this rose together was inspecting her in return. It slipped between the curls of her hair and touched the very ends of her eyelashes, before resting in acceptance, beckoning once more for her to engage with the rose.

But just before she could stroke it's delicate petals, the air shifted and warned her once more.

"Run!... Beware!...The Beast!..." It hissed.

"Don't touch that!" The Beast roared, leaping into the suite from the extended balcony. Had he been there the whole time?

Without warning, he shoved Belle away from the rose, and the floating glass returned to its dome structure, shielding the rose in its glassy prison once more.

"What did you do to it!" He growled as an accusation, rather than a question.

"N-Nothing!" Belle caught her breath in her throat as she attempted to push herself back up off of the floor. Her heart was racing as she searched for anything on the ground to defend herself with in case The Beast attacked her further.

Once he was sure the rose was still intact, he slowed his breath. "Why did you come here?" His voice was low and steady, which was almost scarier than his roaring.

"I-" Belle started, before he interrupted.

"I told you never to come here. You could have damned us all!" He refused to even look at her as he spoke. Did he really think so little of her as to not even look at her while he spoke? She thought. How entitled, how selfish, how like a monster.

The tense silence between them broke by the sound of Belle's soft sobbing as her fear began to rise. What would he do to her now? Turn her into furniture to destroy as well? Watch her burn as he used her limbs for kindling?

But her tears only brought Beast's attention to the damage he'd done.

"Oh no..." He began to panic. What would a gentleman do?

Beast reached for her arm to help her up, only for his claws to rip the sleeve off of her dress as she pulled away in fear. He looked down at his claws in horror.

"Don't touch me!" She begged in fear.

"N-No! I didn't mean-" He tried to explain.

"Don't come near me!" Belle pleaded as she found her footing and lifted herself off the ground, holding her shoulder where his claws from the tear had left deep scratches in her skin. As she lifted her hand, warm blood trickled down her arm.

Beast, horrified at what he'd done, froze in place, trying to find the words to say.

Belle wasn't one to break promises, but at the rate her stay at the castle was going, she wouldn't survive another night. Though she felt awful about leaving the castle's servants and the mystery prince from the painting behind, this wasn't a storybook. This wasn't a fairytale with a happy ending. There was no fantasy prince coming to rescue her. And the man with the sad eyes was just that: a fantasy.

It was clear to her now that the prince she longed to know was long dead and gone. She had to escape, for the both of them.

"Promise or no promise, I'm not staying here!"

"No! Wait! Please!" The Beast begged, his voice breaking with desperation, but by the time he found the right words, Belle was already gone.

"I'm sorry!" He yelled after her. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I didn't mean to hurt you!"

He felt his legs begin to move, and before he knew it, he was chasing after her. Beast had finally made it to the grand hall before hearing the doors to the castle slam shut. He was too late.

Belle was gone.

Chapter Text

The cold air from the outside rushed in as Belle slammed the doors to the castle behind her, not daring to look back.

The Beast, with a flick of his paw, summoned a lurking servant, and they quickly fetched his cape. As he fumbled with the metal clasp, Lumiere appeared from behind him.

"Sire?" The man of wax asked in a tone of concern. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going after her."

Lumiere gasped in surprise and horror.

"I thought we weren't allowed to leave? Won't the spell..." He trailed off, not daring to finish his sentence. Another trick of the enchantress' spell was that the members of the household were barred from leaving the castle's property.

The second any of them stepped into the outside world, their bodies, or what was left of them, would begin to deteriorate. And if their master was the one to perish first, what would that mean for the rest of them?

The Beast knew of this and of its risks, and yet, he had made the decision to go after Belle. It was their only chance of being set free; his only chance to die a man and not a monster.

"I have to try."

With a sad but agreeing smile, Lumiere stepped forward and assisted his prince with the clasp, as if they'd done this a thousand times before.

"Be quick, my prince. We're counting on you."

Before he had time to accept the potential weight of his actions, and the consequences he might have if he failed, The Beast leapt out the doors to the castle, and ventured into the cold after Belle.

He didn't hesitate as his bare paws felt the cold touch of the stone, and his eyes adjusted to the dark. The breeze of the coming winter definitely began to make itself known, as it guided him through the gardens, across the bridge, past the dying rose bushes, and up to the metal gate.

Once he passed this point, there was no turning back. It wouldn't be a quick shift, but it wouldn't be painless. As he approached it, he didn't slow. On all fours, he was as fast as, if not faster than her horse would be. But every second he paused for breath, was a second wasted.

And he was running out of time.

As he crossed the barrier, he felt his body shift and the ache in his abdomen begin to start. It always started there, from his chest outward, but he couldn't slow.

He grunted and growled, fighting the growing pain within him as he searched the woods for any sign of Belle. She would've followed the path, right? That made the most sense.

If he could, he would've shouted for her. Cried out his desperate apologies in case she could hear. But all his body could muster were low painful growls. He only had a couple of minutes before the pain would become unbearable, reaching his muscles and joints in his limbs.

The wind's direction began to turn to his right, in the opposite direction of the village.

"...Listen..." It called.

For once, The Beast obeyed something other than himself. He stopped and closed his eyes, tuning out the pounding of his heart and pulse and searching for... for what exactly? Hooves? No... Echoes. Echoes of what sounded like howls and-

Screaming.

As if The Beast weren't in control anymore, he darted off the path and into the brush, his eyes suddenly changing as the world around him became brighter.

His human eyes, though still their deep blue, adjusted to their new scotopic form. He saw everything as if it were daylight- everything, including, Belle and her horse fighting off a pack of wolves.

She seemed to have been doing well for herself, as she was armed with a small dagger, but it certainly wasn't enough for an entire pack of hungry wolves. The Beast panted and took note of each wolf's position. He smelled seven in total, but only saw six.

This was when one jumped from a short cliff behind Belle, aiming for her with its teeth ready for impact, only to be interrupted by The Beast leaping from his position and smacking it out of the air like it was nothing. The wolf whimpered and shook itself off before crawling away, back into the darkness.

Belle screamed and fell to the ground, covering her head with her hands in shock. The pack seemed surprised at The Beast's entrance, but must've sensed his weak state, as they saw this as a challenge rather than a threat.

In surprise and horror, Belle watched as, one by one, The Beast defended her against each of the wolves. He threw some across the forest floor as if they were nothing but a sack of flour, while others he had to tear from his flesh as they bit into him. He fought with his back turned to the young woman, as to protect her from their attacks, but that didn't stop Belle from watching and taking note. He seemed different somehow, perhaps in pain. This observation was confirmed by the sounds he was making. He cried and moaned with each attack, his body slowly becoming weaker and weaker due to the spell's parameters.

Belle watched and wondered why on earth he'd be protecting her? Surely he was just as bloodthirsty as the wild animals they fought.

Before she could try to rationalize an answer, she spotted one of the wolves creeping behind The Beast, preparing to launch onto his back, but with quick thinking, Belle lunged in front of the animal at the perfect time, her dagger sinking into the wolf's neck.

With The Beast distracted, she saw this as her perfect time to escape. She ran and fetched her horse, preparing to jump onto his back and quickly return home. But instead, she found herself staring as The Beast hauled away the last of the wolves.

This was her chance to go home, to be free. Why was she hesitating?

Beast turned to face Belle, and reached a paw out toward her, before his vision turned blurry and he collapsed onto the cold forest floor.

"I'm...sorry..." was all he could manage to get out before feeling the last of his strength slip from him.

That was it. He'd be gone soon, as would the rest of the castle's staff.

He had failed.

At least, this was his last thought before falling unconscious.

----------------------

Days later, he would wake to the smell of fire and the warmth of a familiar pair of brown eyes staring back at him.

Belle smiled.

"Oh, you're awake."

Chapter Text

As Belle approached the castle gate, she was met by the garden statues, who welcomed her and their master back with open arms. They silently carried her and The Beast up the stairs and through the doors to the castle, where Lumiere and a scattering of staff were waiting with baited breath for their master to return.

When Belle awoke, she found herself in The West Wing, tucked into The Beast's bed. The room itself had been cleaned slightly, since the last time she'd been here. An array of candles were lit around the room, as well as the fireplace burning brightly and filling the once dark void of a suite with a warm glow.

She panicked for a second, thinking she were in bed with The Beast, but to her relief, she spotted him laying unconscious on a cot by the fireplace, a round figure standing anxiously above him.

"Mrs. Potts?" Belle called hoarsely.

"Oh my, thank heavens you're awake!" The porcelain woman held her gold-leafed hand to her 'chest', and quickly rushed over to the side of the bed.

She began to put a hand to Belle's forehead to check for fever, before remembering what a silly idea that would be.

"How are you feeling dear? You've had about a day's rest after you had quite a stumble in the hall. Those woods are never kind, especially in the dead of night." As she spoke, she wrung a small cloth in a bowl of warm water, and dabbed Belle's face with it.

"We were so very worried if the wolves had gotten you both. How brave you are to not only take on the Master, but a pack of hungry wolves as well! We are all so very glad you're both safe."

As Mrs. Potts continued to talk and dote on her, Belle thought of how odd an experience it was. Her mother had passed when she was a child, and since then, had never really had a prominent nurturing female figure in her life. It was almost comforting.

"I'm sorry to have worried you all." Belle pushed herself up so she sat upright. "Is he..." She leaned forward a bit to see if The Beast had woken up yet.

"He's alive, but only just so. A minute longer past the gate and he would've-" Mrs. Potts stopped herself. She had a habit of saying more than she should, and thought it would be best for The Beast to explain when he woke up. If he ever woke up.

"But nevermind that." She said with a smile.

"I can tell the kitchens to fix you up some tea? Some soup maybe?"

Belle nodded. She still planned to return home, but she didn't have the strength to face the wolves again. Her travel plans would have to wait until morning.

"That would be wonderful, thank you."

Once Mrs. Potts left the room, Belle checked to make sure she was completely alone, which she was, all except for the unconscious Beast, who lay completely still on the cot.

She slipped out of his bed, and tip-toed across the room. Once she was close enough to take a good look at him, she covered her mouth in surprise.

He looked...awful.

More awful than usual. His skin was pale, and under the hair that covered most of his body, she could see that his veins were a deep black, as if he were poisoned. She'd only seen this in medical books, and only illustrations of it, but she didn't know how else to describe it.

Belle eyed the makeshift bandages that were completely soaked in his dried blood. He had a few on his arms, one toward his neck, and a few smaller ones on his legs, not to mention the singular large claw mark across his face.

One of his arm bandages was ready to be changed out. If not changed soon, she knew it could get infected. Now, she'd never changed bandage dressings before, but she'd read through the village's medical books.

How hard could it be?

The only thing she really worried about was waking The Beast.

As she removed the red, dripping bandages, she did her best to slowly and carefully unwrap the dressings, making sure not to pull too hard on his fur as the warm blood stuck to his arm.

The wound was absolutely gnarly. The wolves' claws had dug deep into his flesh tore it apart in a way that would most definitely leave a hideous scar. If she had the right tools, it would most likely be a case for stitches, but she doubted The Beast kept a sewing kit in his suite.

The bandages would have to do for now.

Belle fetched the bowl of warm water and did her best to clean the wound before tearing off the other sleeve of her dress and ripping it into strips. She'd just make new sleeves when she got home, she thought. There was no use keeping only one.

Once the last of the strips were tied across his arm, Belle let out a satisfied sigh and admired her work. Not too shabby for her first wound dressing.

With a few strips of cotton left over, she cleaned up her own wounds and wrapped them accordingly, most notably the one on her upper arm from The Beast's claws. It wasn't too deep, and had already scabbed over, but she definitely made sure to clean it just in case of infection.

Once she was satisfied, she took one last look at the pathetic monster that lay before her, and wondered why on earth he'd risked his life for her. Clearly, the entire castle was dependent on him. The staff seemed so protective of him, as if their very lives depended on his existence... Belle had many questions.

Unfortunately, those questions would have to wait, for before Mrs. Potts would return with her promised refreshments, Belle had tucked herself back in to the warm covers of The Beast's bed, and fallen fast asleep.

-----------------

Belle awoke in the familiar warmth of her father's cottage, back in the village. She was no longer in The West Wing, and was not welcomed by men made of wax, but a small lit candle that sat by itself at her bedside table. While she was glad to be home, she was puzzled as to how she got there.

Wasn't she just in the castle?

She quickly stood and addressed herself in the floor-length mirror. To her surprise, she was still in her blue dress- but both of the sleeves were fully intact.

Hadn't she just torn the second sleeve off to bandage her- that's when she noticed. The wound from when Beast had scratched her was gone, as if it were never there.

"But that..." She touched her hand to it, grazing her soft skin. "That's impossible."

Before she could investigate further, she heard a noise coming from the living room.

Papa.

All her worries and concerns melted away by the thought of reuniting with her father. After all they'd been through, after all the trouble her time at the castle had brought them, she could finally be at home with her father once more.

Belle rushed to the bedroom door and swung it open, running down the familiar hall to the living room.

"Papa! I'm home!" She called happily, but once she entered, she realized she wasn't in the cottage at all.

She was back in the enchanted castle.

"No..." Belle turned to go back to her bedroom, but the hallway of her cottage was replaced with the winding hallway of the castle that had once led her to The West Wing.

The same familiar breeze that had beckoned her to the magical rose before blew past her once more, with the same eerie message.

"...Approach..."

She sighed in frustration. She had no choice but to obey. Clearly, the castle wanted her to find something.

As she crept through the destruction of The West Wing, past the familiar toppled and crushed furniture, and the ripped paintings, she made eye contact with the Painted Prince. But this time, she didn't stop to greet him. Someone else seemed to be expecting her.

A looming figure stood by the rose, waiting patiently for Belle to step closer. Once she was close enough to see the features on the figure's face, she realized it wasn't The Beast, but a woman.

"You should've ran while you still could."

The figure was hauntingly beautiful, even more so as she removed her hood to reveal a glowing head of golden hair, that trickled down her shoulders like water.

"Excuse me?" Belle raised an eyebrow.

"He does not deserve your pity, your kindness." The woman's words were icy and bitter, but worst of all, they were true.

"Who are you to deem what someone deserves?" She bit back. "No servant of the gods, or one of the gods themselves would cower under a hood as you do."

Belle unsheathed her dagger from her belt. "Who are you?"

With a wave of her hand, and a face of no emotion, The Enchantress transformed Belle's weapon into a single rose, not unlike the one she'd offered The Prince.

"I am no angel, no god, no demon, nor ghost. But I am a friend."

Belle loosened her grip on the rose. Of course, like every beautiful, promising rose, this one had thorns.

"A friend would not be so cryptic."

"I can help you, child."

"I do not want your help."

The Enchantress raised her voice.

"You would be wise not to challenge me, little one. For I hold great power, and I can do with it as I please."

Belle took a second to gather her thoughts. And though logic pointed otherwise, she couldn't shake the feeling that this stranger was not to be trusted.

"I may be little, and I may be mortal, but I am not helpless. And you would be wise to leave me alone."

With her patience tested, in the heat of frustration, Belle threw the rose to the ground. As soon as it made impact with the marble flooring, the room flooded with light, then was sent into pitch darkness.

Belle shot straight up in bed, and opened her eyes to find herself in the warm light of The West Wing, once again, just as before.

It had only been a dream.

Everything was as it was: The fireplace lit, the lit candles lining the walls, and The Beast, laying unconscious on his cot. The only difference was a tray of refreshments, no doubt delivered by Mrs. Potts, just as she said she would.

She anxiously leaned to steal a peek at the enchanted rose, and was relieved to see no sign of the stranger who haunted her dream.

How odd it was...

Belle chalked it up to being a strange side effect of exhaustion, and happily indulged herself in the marvelous cooking of the castle chef.

As she ate, she prayed that that would be the last time she encountered the golden haired stranger. For if she saw her again, she feared what consequences her boldness may have cost her.

Chapter Text

When Belle awoke, she was greeted by the warmth of the morning sun. She thanked the sun god for blessing her with the light of day to guide her safe travels home. But before she could start her journey, the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchens would distract her. Though she enjoyed her midnight snack, her stomach craved for more. Food as fine as the castle cook's wouldn't be found in the village once she left, and she thought it may be wise to take advantage while she was still here.

Belle then noticed the small crumbs that sat on her chest- she must've fallen asleep after her nightmarish encounter with The Enchantress. It felt more like a memory than a dream, as she could still feel the prick of the thorns on her hand from gripping the rose she'd conjured.

She sat up in The Beast's bed, thankful to be alone yet again, and peered to the cot by the fireplace, where The Beast laid still. He hadn't seemed to have moved at all during the night, and this relieved her. Though his dressings would need to be changed again.

With an annoyed sigh at the extent of her kindness, Belle hopped out of bed, tied up her messy hair, and made the decision to venture to the kitchens for a light breakfast, locate more bandages, and clean The Beast's wounds a final time before heading back to her village.

As she walked toward the door, she slowed to take a quick look at The Beast. His once inky veins had subsided significantly, and there was only a small darkness to them now. He was healing.

In his unconsciousness, she felt calmer around him. Her dream from the night prior still haunted her, along with the words of warning spoken by the strange woman. "He isn't worth your pity, your kindness." The Enchantress had said, implying he was only what he seemed to be; a monster damned by his own destruction. Unredeemable. Purely wicked and cruel.

But looking at him now, all she saw was a pathetic creature.

A boy.

Not unlike those she'd met before.

And though she felt guilty about leaving the castle staff in their current, unfortunate state, she was thankful that she did have some good news to share with them of his healing. With this satisfaction and her mixed feelings about The Beast, she headed off toward the kitchens.

What she did not expect when she returned was to find The Beast sitting upright on the cot, facing the fireplace, watching the dancing flames as they twisted and turned. Belle froze in the doorway, fresh bandages and a basket of baked goods in hand. Her face had been washed, her belly filled, and her hair freshly braided with delicate ribbons as a goodbye gift from the staff.

She had hoped she'd be able to slip out the gates of the castle without a word to The Beast, but it seemed that fate would have other plans.

Once she found her voice, Belle finally spoke, breaking the silence.

"You're awake."

The last time it had been just the two of them together in this room, things did not go well, and she feared what repercussions she'd have now that her actions had almost gotten him killed.

The Beast flinched slightly, not realizing she had entered his suite. He slowly turned and looked at Belle in surprise.

"You're still here."

"I am." Her voice was firm, but unsure as to where this conversation would go.

The Beast looked down at his arm, and recognized the fabric on his arm as the one from the sleeve of her dress. He raised an eyebrow to it. She'd changed his dressings?

"How long was I asleep?" He asked.

"A couple days."

Worriedly, The Beast shifted to take a look at the rose. From where he was, he couldn't see how many petals remained, and he huffed as he struggled to stand.

"How many fell?"

His voice was no longer calm, but panicked. Belle followed his gaze. What was he talking about?

"What?" She asked.

"The petals." He was growing impatient. "How many?"

Belle shook her head and set down her things by the door. As far as she knew, none had fallen. But she was confused as to why a rose wilting would be considered such a worrying event. She also found it odd that he was letting her get close to the rose after he'd just been so protective over it.

She quickly walked toward the rose, and counted its remaining petals.

"Six are left."

Belle could almost feel the risen tension in the room subside as she said this. She turned to face The Beast, who had turned away from her and held his head in his hands.

She looked at the rose once more, and saw her reflection in the glass surrounding it. This was the exact spot she'd seen the strange woman in from her dream... Perhaps the rose meant something to the both of them. Was it an enchanted object, like her dagger The Enchantress had transformed? Belle wanted to press about it, but was distracted by the sounds of licking.

The Beast had ripped off his bandages and had begun licking his wounds.

Letting out an irritated sigh, Belle retrieved the fresh bandages and knelt down beside The Beast.

Her questions would have to wait.

"Stop doing that!"

He ignored her, until she grabbed his arm from him, to which he responded with a low growl of warning.

"...Hold...still..." She struggled to gain control of his arm.

"It itches!" He retorted with the tone of a toddler.

"If you'd let me help you, it will stop!"

He yanked his arm away, almost toppling Belle over backwards. She yelped in response, and The Beast's behavior almost immediately switched. His tone changed from whine to worry, and he held his claws close to his chest in fear of having scratched her once again.

But to Beast's surprise, Belle began laughing. She was filled with such frustration at his stubbornness, it was comical.

Beast raised his brow in confusion.

"You..." Belle said in between breaths, struggling to contain her sudden fit of giggles. "You are the most stubborn creature I have ever met!" She sat herself back up and brushed the baby hairs out of her face, her laughter slowly subsiding.

"Now if you will just hold still," She said sternly, and grabbed his wrist, pulling it toward her. "I will change your dressings once more, and the itching will stop."

Without protest, The Beast complied. He watched as she fearlessly, but gently, brushed his fur from his arm, and washed away the dried and sticky blood that clung to his skin. He did his best not to flinch as the water came into contact with his open wounds, but in all his life, he'd never had any serious injuries. None as deep and painful as this.

From just over Belle's head as she wrapped his arm in bandages, he could see the rose, taunting him with its red glow. There was so little time left, so little left of the prince he used to be... But it was as The Enchantress had said. He was not worth saving. There was no hope left for him. He knew that once Belle had finished this task, she'd leave, never to return.

She'd go back to her village, back to her father, and back into the arms of someone back home that would be waiting for her. Perhaps a handsome suitor. Perhaps a few that anxiously wondered why she'd left. She'd choose one of them to wed. She'd move on from this damned place and The Beast and his servants would be left with no one to remember them. His body would decay, her servants would collect dust, and the castle would be forgotten.

His face softened as he accepted that this would be the last time any of them would ever have a chance at redemption.

The only thing he felt it was right to do was to set Belle free. Beast shut his eyes as he tried to figure out how to phrase it, but this thought was interrupted by Belle's small voice as she finished the last tie around his arm.

"What happens when the last petal falls?"

This question hit Beast like an arrow to the chest.

He opened his eyes and tried to read the expression on her face. Part of her was filled with curiosity, but was fearful of asking about the rose at all.

Belle knew this was a risk, but she couldn't go on the rest of her life with unanswered questions. If she was leaving, she might as well know what exactly she was leaving behind.

"Is it enchanted? I mean, obviously natural roses don't glow in that way. Is it part of the rest of the castle's enchantment?"

Beast was speechless. Though there was no spoken rule against talking about the spell, he didn't expect her to ask so plainly about it.

"Mrs. Potts had mentioned something about going past the gate. Are you all bound to this place?"

"Enough." He'd grown frustrated.

Beast pushed himself to stand and began to limp over to the rose. She was leaving- she had no place in asking these questions, he thought.

Belle followed and pushed further.

"You're tied to it, aren't you? You wouldn't be so worried about the rose if you weren't." She hypothesized as she followed him to the rose, standing at his side as he hunched over the rose, counting the petals for himself. Six. Just like she'd said.

"Why don't you just let everyone go?" Belle's voice became accusatory. The rest of the staff seemed just as stuck here as she was, and if they wouldn't advocate for themselves, she would do it for them. "They're just as much prisoners here as I am, aren't they!"

The Beast refused to respond. He couldn't let his temper take over, nor would he let her see him vulnerable. So for whatever reason, he chose to stay frozen in place, unfazed, much like his rose.

After a moment of tense silence, Belle placed a timid hand on The Beast's arm.

She asked again.

"What happens when the last petal falls?"

Beast sighed and looked at her hand on his arm. It was so small, so gentle. She didn't mean any harm with these questions. He knew she just wanted to understand.

He knew that once she left, she'd begin to forget anyway.

"They were all human, once." He started. "But I made a choice. A choice that brought on a curse."

He couldn't tell her everything, but something in him begged him to trust her.

"You're right, they're all trapped here. Much like you. And once the last petal falls, they will lose their humanity and become...things."

The Beast turned to face Belle.

"Unlike you, however, I can set you free."

"But what about-" Belle began to press further into the details of the curse, about his role in everything, but he interrupted her.

Beast took her hand in his and exhaled. "Once you leave here, you may not come back. You will forget everything and everyone you've met here, and you won't be able to find the castle again."

Subconsciously, he began softly tracing her hand with his thumb.

"Do you understand?"

Belle repeated his words in his head as she lost herself in his eyes. They sparkled a deep blue, and were filled with such sorrow as he explained this to her. Somewhere inside of her, she felt a familiarity in them, but couldn't figure out where from.

When she didn't respond, he squeezed her hand softly and repeated himself.

"Belle, do you understand?"

Suddenly, Belle's conflicting feelings toward the castle and its inhabitants became clear, and unexpectedly, she made a decision she never thought she'd make. In the past half hour, she'd seen a softness, a kindness in the monster that had ripped her from her ordinary life in the village. She'd made friends in the castle staff and gotten to know so much about them over the past few days... She couldn't leave them now. Not when their lives were hanging by a mere thread. She couldn't in good conscience leave them, knowing that they would die. Every curse could be broken. Her storybooks had taught her that. And if she could help her new friends, or even just keep them company in their last days of life, she would. Her father could wait. She knew he was a strong man- he'd be okay for just a little while longer.

"I'm not leaving."

To Beast's surprise, Belle ripped her hand from his.

He shook his head and hunched, as to meet her height.

"I'm setting you free. You aren't my prisoner anymore, Belle."

"I heard you the first time."

"But why?"

Belle sighed. "I'm staying for them." She motioned toward the door, implying the castle staff. "If I can help in setting them free, I'm going to."

Beast's brows furrowed. This was possibly the last thing he expected- for Belle to stay by choice. He'd let her stay if she so wished, but he couldn't tell her the constraints of the curse. Their love, if they were to ever fall in love, had to be genuine, and telling her how the curse could be broken would bar that from ever happening.

"If you stay," He said. "Then you are staying by choice. You may leave whenever you wish, but once you do, you may not return."

Belle smiled softly. Adjusting to life in the castle would definitely be a change, but at least this time it would be a consenting change. And with this new kindness found within The Beast, she was still wary but not as frightful as she once was. Perhaps life in the castle wouldn't be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Days would pass, and Belle and The Beast would develop a routine. Though she still refused to dine with the creature, she would offer to change his bandages, if he'd help her with hers. As it turns out, it was somewhat awkward being the only two in the castle with properly functioning hands. Sure, his were much larger than hers, but at least the process went by smoothly.

By spending so much time together, Belle was able to really study what kind of creature The Beast was. While he was humanoid, his body seemed to be an amalgamation of different types of animals. His horns were similar to those of a ram, but his claws were most similar to a wolf's. His ears resembled those of a cows, and were velvety in touch. His tail mostly resembled a lion, and while his face lacked a snout, his nose was dark and wet like a wild animal's, and the two small tusks that gave him an unforgivable lisp resembled those of a boar.

Though he appeared frightful, The Beast spoke intelligently, when he did speak at all. And had no trouble dressing and undressing himself, to which she was thankful for.

As The Beast's arm began to heal, Belle focused her attention to his other wounds; the scratches in his leg and the bites on his shoulders.

She had hoped she wouldn't have to tend to his shoulder, but even though Beast had been pretending it didn't bother him, she could tell it was more severe than he would let on.

After a long day of avoiding each other, Belle stood next to him in The West Wing, once again, and set down the warm water bowl on the table in front of her.

The Beast was dressed in his usual attire. A tattered cloak of deep purples and reds, a white (though stained) common shirt, and fitted velvet pants that tore around the edges. Up until now, Belle hadn't really noticed the smell emitting from them. But since they'd been stained with his blood, there was no denying the stench of blood, sweat, and animal hair.

She did her best not to gag when she finally sat next to him.

As per usual, Beast did his best to ignore the girl. There was a painfully awkward air between them, and he almost preferred to let his injuries infect and rot rather than be tended to by her.

Since the day she chose to remain in the castle rather than return home, she hadn't asked about the curse again, to which he was relieved. And he prayed it would stay that way.

Belle prepared the warm cloth in the bowl before clearing her throat.

"Um, could you..." She eyed his shoulder, still covered by his multiple layers of clothing.

Beast shifted uncomfortably in his seat before removing his cape and shirt, revealing his hairy torso, that matched the rest of his body. As soon as he did so, he turned his head away, as to avoid seeing her reaction. It was bad enough that he had to expose himself out of the shadows of his castle at all, and now he had to undress in front of her? How humiliating, he thought.

Belle took a second to compose herself. A week ago, she was running for her life from this creature, and now here he was, half naked as she tended to his wounds.

Strictly as a doctor would, she examined The Beast. The wound on his shoulder was definitely worse than he'd let on, but something else caught her eye. Stemming from the center of his chest was the inky blackness she had seen days earlier. It had since subsided from the rest of his body, and seemed to only appear here on his chest. She watched as his chest rose and fell. He seemed to be breathing fine, if a little quick. But aside from the grotesque appearance, he seemed unbothered by it.

Beast seemed to sense her hesitation, and turned away from her, to refocus her attention on his shoulder. His flesh was red and irritated, and there were clear bite marks from the feral wolves left in his skin. Like his arm, this one would leave a nasty scar. But luckily, Belle was able to acquire a small sewing kit from one of the servants. And if any of his injuries would require stitches, it would definitely be this one.

"Well," she started. "It's definitely infected."

Belle sighed, clearly annoyed, wringing the warm cloth in her hands.

"You should have told me if it was bothering you."

Beast scoffed. "You shouldn't have run into a pack of hungry wolves. Then this wouldn't have happened."

His voice was calm, but very matter-of-factly.

How pretentious of him, Belle thought as she rolled her eyes in response.

"If you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away in the first place!"

Belle threw the cloth back into the bowl, letting the steaming water splash up onto the table.

"You shouldn't have been poking in places you don't belong!" Beast raised his voice. He began to breathe harder as she continued to argue with him.

"And you shouldn't imprison people over meaningless flowers!"

Belle stood and shouted down at The Beast. He would not be winning this one.

Unfortunately, his temper often got the better of him, and he would often say things he didn't truly mean.

Out of frustration, Beast threw his clothes on the ground and stood, facing Belle. He towered over her and spat his nasty words with such fury.

"I should have let the wolves devour you!" He growled.

Belle growled back, mockingly.

"And I should have left you in the woods to die!"

As stubborn as The Beast was, Belle could be just as so. She'd proven this multiple times already. But instead of becoming physical with her, like he had in the past when outmatched, he huffed and slumped back onto the cot in defeat.

She was right. She was the victim here, not him. Belle could have left him in the clearing for the wolves to feed on, and she would've had every reason to. But she didn't.

When Belle was satisfied with his silence, she calmly took her seat next to him and grabbed the cloth once more.

"Now," she sighed. "This is going to sting a bit. But I need you to hold still. Can you do that?"

Her voice had returned to its calm, gentle tone. Though she was still frustrated by his child-like temperament, the rest of the castle was dependent on his survival. And if he came down with a fever due to infection, there would be nothing more she could do.

Beast huffed and nodded his head, compliantly. But once she pressed the cloth into his wound, he let out a groan and gripped the sides of the cot.

Belle softly continued to press the cloth into his wound, cleaning out the dried blood, dirt, and sweat that had built up inside of it. As she did so, she noticed aged scars that seemed to cover the length of his back. They were faint under his hair, but still visible. Belle wondered if he'd tussled with wolves before, but these didn't look like animal scratches. If anything, they looked more like markings from a whip that she'd seen on livestock in the village.

What had he been through?

As The Beast continued to moan through the pain, Belle found herself subconsciously hushing him, like a mother to a crying child. Whispering "It's almost done... It's alright.... Almost over...." until the wound was cleaned, donned with ointment, and bandaged appropriately. Once she was finished, she placed her cloth in the bowl and dried her hands on her dress.

"I-" The Beast broke the silence. "I never thanked you for not leaving me to die. I didn't deserve your pity, your kindness."

Belle froze in place. One, because she was shocked at his sudden gratitude. But second, because his words were almost verbatim what The Enchantress had said to her, nights prior. She hadn't thought about that odd exchange since it happened, but as he spoke to her now, it seemed too coincidental to be insignificant.

She smiled softly and placed her hands in her lap.

"Who am I to deem who, or what, is worthy of kindness?" Her words were plain but rang true, as she had spoken similar words to The Enchantress before. Even now, she still believed them.

"And I never thanked you for saving me," she sighed. "So thank you."

For the first time, she saw the hint of a smile come from The Beast.

"You're welcome."

Chapter Text

The castle seemed ever so much brighter since Belle had arrived. It had only been about a month, but every stirring creature seemed filled with a new wave of hope with each passing day. Unbeknownst to their new guest, every dawn was another day closer to freedom.

To Beast, every dawn was another day wasted. Another petal could fall at any moment- they had so little time left. He could feel his humanity slipping away with each day that passed. His mornings were hazy, as he had to forcibly remind himself of who he was. Stomach would growl with the angriest hunger. His mind filled with the objective to feed, to hunt, to stalk in the darkness of the unfamiliar castle. It was if he was seeing it with fresh eyes each day, until he'd remember.

On this particular day, it took a bit longer to refresh himself, find a fresh(er) set of clothes, and stand upright. This was worrisome, as he'd managed to keep this effect of the curse to himself, but he knew there would be a day when there would be no humanity left inside him.

What am I becoming? He thought.

As Beast made his way toward the door, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a smashed mirror on the wall. He usually avoided such things, but now that he'd seen it, he couldn't look away. It had been some time since he really took a look at himself, at the gruesome body he inhabited.

Typically, he harbored a violent anger for himself that often lashed out and matched his monstrous form. But now, he was only filled with despair, a loneliness, a hopelessness of ever winning Belle's affection. In the shattered glass, he saw himself for what he truly was; only pieces of the man he used to be.

How could she ever love a hideous creature like me?

------------------------------

Belle, on the other hand, adored mornings.

In the village, she typically would wake early to finish her chores on the farm. She'd feed the chickens, the horses, the sheep, fix breakfast for her and her father, then head to town to gather supplies, and a new book (or two) to read throughout the day. Once she was home, especially in the springtime, she'd curl up in the stables and read aloud to the animals.

In the castle, however, there weren't any animals to read to. At least, none that were willing.

Belle thought it strange that even the forest birds didn't fly near the castle. She'd watched the gardens from her suite window, and hadn't spotted a single wild animal since her arrival. Not even a singular mouse could be found in the castle. It was odd.

She didn't have many books in her bedroom to sort through, either. There were a few empty journals, along with some informational collections of foreign flora and fauna in a language she couldn't read. None of which were particularly captivating to her, though she attempted to read them nonetheless.

Dissatisfied with her reading selection, Belle decided that now was a good time to snoop through the chest at the end of her bed. Once she opened it, she was greeted by an array of dresses, perfumes, and other personal items. Everything was incredibly luxurious. From the gowns laced in gold, to the velvet boxes containing jewels and other treasures. But the best find of all was a leather-bound diary, wrapped in swirls of glittering gold detailing, sealed with a dainty lock on the outside.

The lock was unusual, as it wasn't sealed by a key, but by a carefully crafted indent of what she could only assume was a pendant of some sort. It looked similar to hearts, unfolded into four parts, much like a clover of four leaves.

Belle rushed to the writing desk along the wall. She'd seen something of that shape before. Though it wasn't a clover, but the charm of a heart-shaped locket, that unfolded into four parts.

Hands shaking with the excitement of something new to pour into, she quickly unfolded the locket and matched the shape to the one on the diary. Like magic, the lock clicked, and the side of the diary opened. Unlike most things in the castle, it wasn't made from magic, only creative engineering. And Belle was more than satisfied by her discovery.

Opening the first page, her eyes widened at what she'd found. In her hands was the personal diary of the late Queen, the prior resident of the East Wing.

------------------------------

The Beast wandered through his castle, reminding himself of where he was, who he was, and tried to ignore the soft scurrying of invisible servants as they fled the areas in which he wandered.

It was normal for laughter and light to die once he entered a room, but he could feel the judging stares as the paintings and fixed gargoyles watched and surveyed his every move. Beast was almost insecure of it. Could they tell he was deteriorating more and more each day? Did they know?

Perhaps a meal will fix this feeling, he thought, as he headed toward the main dining room. To his delight, and expectation, lunch was already being prepared, and right on cue, an array of servants appeared to give him the latest on what was happening around the castle.

"Ah, your majesty!" Lumiere said gleefully as he waltzed across the room. "How wonderful to see you out and about! Your meal is being prepared as we speak and should be out shortly."

The man of wax surveyed the room. "Will...any other guests be joining you this afternoon?" He asked, meaning Belle of course.

Beast huffed. "Not to my knowledge."

"She seems to be settling in nicely! Madame Delile has decided on designing an entire new wardrobe, just for her. The girl insisted on 'nothing too fancy', however I doubt Madame will give her anything plain."

"Has she..." Beast hesitated. "Has she asked anything about me? Or the spell?"

Lumiere thought for a moment, and tapped his bronze foot as he did so. "No..." He responded in a sing-song voice. "But she did ask about the royal archives. Is there any chance that-"

"No. Absolutely not." Beast spoke with a gruff in his voice, and a low and defensive growl echoing from his chest.

An air of silence stood between them. They both knew what a risk it was, for if Belle were to dig too far into the castle's past, she may discover something she wouldn't want to find. On top of this, Beast was adamant about keeping his identity from her. On one hand, it was best she didn't get her hopes up of him being a prince and whatnot. But on the other hand, he didn't identify as his princely self anymore. The prince, in his mind, was dead. All that was left is the monster, the Beast he was.

After the moment of silence passed, Lumiere spoke with a quiet voice.

"Do you think she's the one?"

Beast sighed and his defensive demeanor changed to one of sorrow as he turned away from his confidante.

"Don't you get it Lumiere? There is no 'one'. That's the trick of this curse." He nervously rubbed his thumb against his forefinger, carefully watching his claw scrape his skin. "No one could ever love a thing like me."

The bronze-clad man's wicks began to dim as the fire that lit his candles faded out. The Prince was more than just his employer, as he considered themselves friends, family even. Lumiere had seen the horrors The King had put The Prince and his mother through, and had ever so slightly tried to guide him toward a kinder path as The Prince grew into adulthood.

He'd always wanted more for The Prince, and half blamed himself for the cruel behavior he had displayed so many years ago. Like an uncle who had failed to raise a nephew, Lumiere watched The Beast that stood before him crumble into the boy he once knew, and ached for the pain he must've felt.

The hope for Belle and Beast to fall in love wasn't for his own salvation, but for The Prince to find love and redemption. To show that people could change, and learn, and grow.

"My prince," He said, treading lightly on the title. "You must try. She is kind and caring. She is just as fair in her heart as she is on the outside. And you must show her the kind gentleman I know you to be."

"But I'm not-"

Lumiere cut him off as he began his rebuttal. "If not for yourself, then for the rest of us."

Beast shook his head and turned back around to meet the waxy gaze of his mentor.

"Fine." He sighed. "Where do I start?"

With a smile, Lumiere lit his flames once more.

"That's more like it!"

Chapter Text

"Lift your chin up, dear! I need exact measurements if I am going to make you the best-dressed girl in France!"

Madame Delile was quite the character. She almost gave Belle a fright when they'd first met, as she didn't expect a woman to animate from a pile of unseemly scraps of fabric and ribbons.

Since they'd met, Madame had recalled her time as the palace's seamstress, designing only the finest clothes for the highest paying employers across the globe. And to her misfortune, she'd been staying exclusively with the royal family when the curse was set. The tattered cloaks and sparse shirtings The Beast wore were once said to be of the finest tailored garments across kingdoms, all part of an exclusive collection of course.

Belle had practically memorized Madame's stories of her travels, and while she remained kind, she found much more interest in the Queen's diary. Especially after she'd heard the repeat of Madame's stories several times in one day.

The village girl stood in the center of her suite, holding the diary in front of her at such an awkward angle, due to the flurry of ribbons and textiles that flew around her as Madame gathered her measurements.

"Now some sashing here...Oh! And the beaded trim would go here! Oh gold is such your color... And a matching rouge for those cheeks! C'est parfait!"

Once Madame was finished, she collected her ribbons back into her singular form, and Belle noticed a small glint in her buttoned eyes. It must have been a long time since Madame had anyone to design for...

"So? What do we think? I know you requested, uh..." Madame raised a ribboned brow. "'Plaine et ennuyeuse'.... But could I sway you on some beads? A bow? Lace maybe?"

Her voice was so filled with hope...Belle couldn't say no. After all, it had been a long time since she'd had anything nicer to wear. Looking in the mirror, she imagined herself in a gown of silk, with her hair tied and curled. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try something new.

With a smile, she nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps you're right, Madame. Change is good."

"C'est magnifique!" Madame shook her 'hands' in excitement and pulled the rope along the wall, summoning another servant. "I will have everything ordered for the next shipment!"

Belle's brow furrowed as she slipped on her day dress, a temporary once Madame had lent her. "Shipment?"

"Oui! You didn't think we were cut off from the world completely, did you?"

The young woman had never thought about where their supplies must come from, but what Madame was saying made sense.

"We have shipments delivered once a month. We put in our requests for soaps, spices, meats, books, other necessary things. And by one way or another," Madame shrugged with her 'hands'. "...it appears!"

"Which means that you, my dear friend, will be dressed in only the finest threads from around the globe, just like a proper princesse!"

Belle began to argue, but was interrupted by a male voice.

"That is only if your request is approved by...whoever approves it!"

The head of household, Cogsworth, appeared in the doorway, seemingly uptight and annoyed as ever. This seemed to be his constant state, Belle had remarked. Even through his gears and metal embellishments, his frowning expression was one she saw more often than not.

"Monsieur Cogsworth! You're just in time. I shall draft a list for you to add. I shall require silks, satins, brocades..."

Madame continued with her verbal list, while Cogsworth ushered Belle toward him.

"Lunch is being served in the main dining room, if you're feeling in need of an escape." He motioned toward Madame Delile, who was circling the suite and continuing her rant.

Belle stifled a laugh and quickly grabbed the Queen's diary before heading to the dining room for lunch, giving silent condolences to the head of the royal staff.

---------------------

The Beast had already begun eating when Belle arrived. He and Lumiere had been practicing the arts of 'suave gentility' and 'table manners', and before she had entered, he was confident in his ability to woo her. But once Lumiere opened the doors for her, all of that confidence drained straight into his gut, and he began tasting the finger foods out of fear.

Belle didn't quite know how to feel towards The Beast. On one hand, he seemed genuine and honest, but on the other, his temper was a monster of its own, that she felt she was in constant battle with. She could only hope that The Beast would be on her side today.

She found her place, at the opposite end of the table from The Beast, and surveyed the array of appetizers set out for them, before returning to her chosen read.

Lumiere had suggested that The Beast choose something safe to start with. A simple soup with sides of bread to dip, to which he'd already scarfed down.

From behind Belle's chair, Lumiere motioned toward Belle, urging his master to talk to her.

Beast cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Uh... Good afternoon."

The awkward energy between them practically hurt.

Belle, without looking up, replied. "Good afternoon." She had mastered the art of reading and socializing, as she'd learned it appeared rude to just plain ignore those speaking to her, though she typically preferred to be left alone when reading.

Beast cluelessly looked back up at Lumiere, who was practically snapping himself in two in trying to direct his master.

A scattering of servants brought a few trays out to Belle and set them in front of her. She'd be given her choice of what to eat, as usual, though she usually picked a bit from everything.

He waited for more trays to be brought to him as well, but Beast was surprised to learn that Lumiere had told them to leave him with his soup. They hadn't had time to go over all of the necessary table manner rules, and the footman wasn't about to risk their lives over a leg of meat.

Beast, incredibly awkwardly, attempted to pick up the soup spoon, just like Lumiere had showed him. This would be a sorry attempt, as his sharp claws caused the metal to slip and fall out of his paw and back onto the table.

Accepting defeat, Lumiere left the room.

He tried again, only to drop it in his soup bowl that caused a horrid clattering sound.

Belle looked up from her book at the sound.

"Are you alright?" She asked, worriedly.

Beast rested his arm on the table and leaned back in his chair, nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just completely embarrassed himself.

"Oh, yes of course. You know how it goes... Soup."

If Lumiere had witnessed this exchange, he'd have lit himself on fire.

"Right..." Belle smiled and nodded, before hiding her face behind her book.

Beast's face flushed pink and he hid his face in his paws. This lunchtime interaction was not going as planned.

He peered through his fingers to see if she'd looked up, and that's when he noticed what she was reading. He couldn't quite place it, but it was familiar to him.

"What are you reading?"

This question was definitely the correct one.

Belle sat up and shifted her seating position so it was more comfortable.

"It's a diary I found. This woman, she is incredible. It's her firsthand accounts of adventures, voyages, across this side of the world. She used to travel a lot. Before she married, anyway."

Beast leaned closer to the table as she described the diary, still trying to figure out why it was so familial to him.

Belle took a sip of her wine before continuing.

"How awful would it be? To be in an arranged marriage, that is."

Beast shifted uncomfortably.

"I can't imagine my father promising me to the highest bidder. How demeaning and inhumane."

"That's... That's not always the case!"

Belle tilted her head to finally make eye contact with the distant figure at the end of the table.

"Oh? Is that so?" Her voice was challenging as she begged for the man in the room's opinion on what it was like to be a woman in such a society.

This is when he knew he'd made a mistake.

"I just meant, it's not always like that."

"You sound as though you speak from experience."

"No, no! I..." Beast thought it best to change the subject, before he revealed more than he already had. "Whose diary is that anyway? Where did you get it?"

Belle closed the journal and crossed her arms.

"I found it. From what I've read, it seemed to belong to a queen who'd lived here." She struggled to remember the name. "I believe a Queen-"

"Stop. I need it."

Belle shook her head. "After I'm done, you can read it."

"No, I need it back. Now."

Beast felt the warmth from his cheeks that was once embarrassment rise to anger as he realized she was grasping his late mother's diary. A diary he'd thought had been lost to time.

Belle, however, was not backing down.

"No! I said you can have it when I'm done!"

The servants snuck into the dining room once they began to hear shouting, ready to clean up before things got messy. But by the time they entered, Beast had flung his soup bowl across the room at the wall.

Lumiere approached his master to try and diffuse the situation.

"Sire, why don't you have another drink and we can talk about-"

Beast grabbed Lumiere by his collar, threatening to crush his waxy throat behind it. He felt a wild, animalistic rage behind his actions, and a growl behind his words. He was losing control again.

"Did you give it to her? I told you she wasn't allowed in the archives!"

"Master...Please..." The servant begged. Not so long ago, this was a common occurrence, but he truly hadn't missed being under The Beast's claws.

Belle suddenly grabbed his forearm and attempted to pull the grip loose from Lumiere as The Beast continued to snarl at his prey.

"I'm... the one... who found it!" She continued pulling on his arm, even at his fur until he finally let his servant go.

"He had nothing to do with it! It was hidden in the East Wing." Out of breath, but still fearlessly, she stood a mere inches from The Beast with her hands in the air, as if she were taming a wild animal.

"If you're going to be angry at anyone, be angry with me. Just...don't hurt them."

The Beast's breath began to slow as he calmed down. He watched as Mrs. Potts aided Lumiere and walked him back into the kitchens, while other staff whisked away the broken porcelain of the shattered dishes. His vision wasn't red and hot anymore, and his eyes softened as he met Belle's fearful gaze.

Once again, he'd hurt her. Not physically, but this action, this behavior, was still a wound.

He looked down at his claws and made certain he wasn't gripping onto her.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." He said breathlessly, ever ashamed for his actions once again.

This apology was the last thing Belle expected, and was almost shocked to hear it.

"I... I don't know what came over me." Beast tried to think through his actions, why he got so angry, why that situation was angering in the first place... But it was all blank. He shook his head, trying to remember, but was brought back to reality by Belle slipping her hand into his paw.

"No!" He immediately rejected her touch and pulled his claws away from Belle, afraid to touch her. He kept them close to his chest and backed up from her.

Belle shook her head, confused. Was he... afraid of her? It seemed as much. She didn't quite know what to say or how to diffuse this, as a man had never feared her touch before.

A man.

She caught herself thinking of The Beast as such, and recalled how quickly he could change from monster to a man. He could be a gentleman, the kind that enjoyed her company and left flowers at her door. And other times, well, she'd seen his unforgiving wrath before.

But now... A simple apology, correcting his harmful behaviors... He was changing before her, and her before him, though neither of them wholly recognized it.

"Beast..."

"I-I'll be having dinner in my suite tonight." He said quickly, to no one in particular, before exiting the dining room and retreating to The West Wing for the night.

With a frustrating silence and more unanswered questions, Belle left the diary on the dining room table, hoping it would magically return to its rightful place in the archives.

Its secrets, she thought, would be better left as secrets.

Chapter Text

The nights towards the end of the month were always anxious ones for dear Beast, as the end of the month was when the next petal would fall.

The petal was never on a strict schedule, though, so the week leading up to it was filled with nights like this, filled with anxiety, unease, and anticipation for the next rose petal's descent.

If it were up to him, he would have destroyed the cursed thing years ago. But with the entire castle's fates in the palm of his hand... He couldn't. However cruel he was to them, they were family. More family than his father, The King, ever was.

From his cot by the fireplace, Beast looked up at his destroyed family portrait, as it still hung on the wall. His father's face was completely destroyed at the hand, or claws, of his son. His mother's likeness was left untouched, in respect of her. His own portrait was mangled as well, though not completely destroyed. Parts of him still remained.

The painting had been commissioned when he was just a boy. He was positioned between the two monarchs, like a balancing scale, for as his father was brutish, his mother was calm. And when she died, the balance of the castle was destroyed, and suddenly his father's temper was turned fully onto him.

He was only a boy then, but even now he could still feel the stings of the lashings he'd been given so graciously by The King.

With a sigh, Beast stood and headed out. It was nearing midnight, and he could hear the small taps of the heavy rain against the stained glass windows. The storm wasn't too violent, thank goodness, but it had picked up over the course of a few days. Belle had mentioned wanting to properly explore the gardens once the storm died down, but that would have to wait.

At least, that's what he'd assumed until he opened the door to the dining room balcony and set his sight on the brunette stranger, sitting on the stone ledge, gazing out at the gardens below.

He froze, unsure if he should head back inside or attempt to make conversation. The two hadn't spoken since their encounter at lunch several days prior, as Beast had decided to hole up in the West Wing. From his position behind her, his gruesome shadow seemed to engulf Belle's small frame entirely, and this image made the creature feel sheepish. He started to back away, back into the castle, when she lifted her head.

Alas, the creak from the door had given him away.

The Beast crept onto the wet stone, closing the door behind him. Slowly, he made his approach and stood to the left of where Belle sat. Though she already was aware of his presence, he still did his best not to spook her.

"I didn't expect anyone else to be up." He said, softly.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Belle closed her eyes and let the rain fall onto her soft skin, slipping down her cheeks and through her loose hair. By the way her dress was soaked, he could only guess she'd been out here for a while.

"What is?" He asked, reaching his arm out and becoming familiar with the rain on his fur, suddenly regretting not wearing his cape. He'd only meant to watch the rain, and typically didn't strive to be in it.

"Everything is so quiet, so still, and yet everything is... moving."

She exhaled. "Alive."

Beast twitched, as a drop of rain had stuck to his brow and dripped into his eye. As he shook, the water from his hair flung onto Belle, much like a dog after a bath.

She opened her eyes and stifled a laugh as he struggled, adjusting to the rain.

Once he'd adjusted, he found his composure and brushed his hair out of his face, revealing more of his face than Belle had ever seen until now.

Underneath his typically curled and matted hair, he'd been hiding high, chiseled cheekbones, and a faded scar on the right side, running from his cheek and down his neck. It was faint, but had indented on his skin, leaving a rough texture. His injuries from the wolves had mostly healed, leaving only a few scratches here and there.

Beast caught her staring, and Belle was quick to look away. It wasn't a disgusted, judgmental stare, only curious more than anything. He furrowed his brow questioningly and began rolling up his wet sleeves.

"What?"

His tone was more accusatory than he meant it to be, but he still had to save face. He refused to seem vulnerable and emotional in front of her.

"I've been meaning to ask..." Belle started, placing her hands in her lap. She didn't quite know how he'd react to her question, but no one else in the castle had given her a straight answer. They always brushed her aside or changed the topic. Perhaps this was for good reason, but her curiosity always got the better of her.

"Since I'm going to be here for a while, and we might as well get to know each other, I thought, well-" She stopped herself before she could continue to ramble.

"What is your name?"

It was a simple question, though unexpected, and The Beast didn't know how to respond to it. His instinct was to be defensive, protective, even, of his privacy. And, as Belle had seen, his default defense mechanism was a loud, anger-filled reaction.

But he couldn't be fully angry at her for this question. He was annoyed, at most, and this showed in his facial expression.

"You may call me Beast."

Belle scrunched her nose. "That's not a name."

"It is what I am."

In truth, his true name angered him, as that person was the one responsible for the hopeless situation brought upon the castle. The Prince was the one who'd been cruel and unforgiving, and for that, he must never be remembered. At least, this is what The Beast believed.

Belle, however, could not believe the hopeless self esteem of the creature before her. Sure, he was a beast, but she had to believe he was more than that. He'd saved her life and ended her imprisonment, after all.

"And if I am a farm girl, is that what you'd call me?"

"If you wished it."

He turned and made eye contact with her.

"But you do not. Your name is Belle, meaning beauty. And beauty is what you are." His words seemed kind, but his tone was cold as he spoke, his words lisping against his fangs.

"And beauty... I am not."

The Beast turned to leave but was stopped by Belle's firm grip against his arm. He groaned and warned her, "Do not ask me again."

She pulled him back toward her, but the wet stone had become slippery, and as she pulled him, her body turned and she began to slip off the edge of the balcony railing. Instinctively, she gripped onto his soaking shirt in attempt to pull herself up.

In an instant, The Beast had placed his paw on her opposite side and supported her back as he caught her, nearly dangling off the edge of the balcony. He held her like this, like a dip in a dance, with their chests pressed together, only for a moment before lifting her back and standing her on the stone.

As she steadied herself, he couldn't help but notice the way her soaking dress clung to her frame, and did his best to calm the beating of his heart.

Belle's heart was pounding, too. Not only had she almost met her fate, falling from the castle, but the creature she often feared saved her, again, without hesitation.

A truly beastly creature wouldn't have.

The Beast found his words and with only a foot of space between them, he spoke. "Are you alright?"

Breathlessly, she looked at him, bewildered by the way he began to change in her eyes. He'd saved her life for a second time.

She stepped ever so closer to him, and began to place her delicate hand on his cheek, as he eyed her with concern. She wanted to tell him how she suspected he was more than a monster, more than just The Beast, as he'd claimed. She wanted to tell him she thought they could be friends, that she didn't want to fight with him anymore, no matter how frustrating he could be. But he backed away from her.

"Don't." He warned before her soft touch could reach him.

She recognized this look. He was afraid, like before, after he'd snapped at her in the dining room.

"Beast?" She shook her head, confused. What was he afraid of?

"I'll... I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

With a rushed goodbye, The Beast disappeared through the doors of the dining room and back into the darkness of the castle.

The way she looked at him, the way she reached for him to catch her when she fell... It was terrifying. More frightening than the look of fear she once had when they'd first met.

No matter how tempting it may have been to give in, to be vulnerable with her. To share the secrets of the curse, and the ones of his heart with her, he couldn't entertain the idea. It was impossible for someone like her to care for a thing like him, wasn't it? How foolish it would be.

But whether he liked it or not, Belle had broken down some of his walls that night. And he'd spent the remainder of the night by the fire, in attempt to dry and warm himself up. As his fur dried, it would slightly curl.

All he could think about was how her hair curled in the rain. How the shape of her frame felt against his. How her eyes changed when she looked at him... He saw her eyes in the patterns on the wall. Her dress in how the fire in the fireplace danced. In the crackling of the embers, he heard her laughter. Once the last log had burned, he saw her dark hair in the smoke

It was torture.

--------------------

When Belle awoke, she was surprised she'd made it into bed in one piece. Her sleep was restless as her mind had decided only to focus on the horrified look in the Beast's face when she went to touch him.

She only meant to be kind.

Was this how he felt when she'd first arrived? She was plenty fearful of him back then. She couldn't help but wonder if he was used to the feeling, the knotting she felt in her stomach, or if he felt this guilty too.

To her surprise, a new dress had been laid out on the edge of her bed. Madame must have let her sleep in, instead of insisting on dressing her, like usual. If she weren't so tired, Belle might have missed Madame's typical doting and fawning. But the only thing on her mind was breakfast. She was anxious not only for food, but to see how The Beast was doing after their entanglement the night prior.

Belle slipped on her new dress, a delicate lavender, and slipped through the passageway in her bedroom. She wanted to get there before Beast did, to have enough time to prepare what she wanted to say.

And arrive before him, she did.

She was met by the usual morning pleasantries from the staff before she sampled a biscuit from a tray and headed to her normal seat at the table.

Before she knew it, the first tray of breakfast items had made its way out to her. She could hardly enjoy the treats though, as her eye was watching the door at every turn.

Mrs. Potts noticed her strange behavior and approached Belle from behind.

"You seem to be distracted, Miss. Has the master lost his temper with you again?"

Belle didn't respond, as her mind was far away, wondering where he could be.

Mrs. Potts asked again, this time tapping her on the shoulder.

"Belle? Are you alright?"

She jumped at the sudden touch, and looked up, expecting The Beast, only to be met with the concerned, glassy gaze of her friend.

"Oh!"

The woman of porcelain shook her head.

"Dear, you've hardly touched your food. Are you feeling alright? It wasn't you who was out in the rain last night, was it? You could catch cold in that weather!"

She gestured toward a living mop, who was soaking up the wet footprints that remained on the floor from the night prior.

Belle smiled, overcompensating for her anxiety. "Oh, yes it was me. I couldn't sleep in the night. I'm sorry for trailing the water inside."

Mrs. Potts patted her arm. "Nonsense, child. You know if you ever need anything, I'll fix you up a nice cup of tea, any time you need."

The woman gestured to the other servants, who then began tidying the table.

"We'll fix you something to eat later when you're feeling up for it, alright?"

"Actually," Belle stood from her seat. "Would you mind fixing me a tray? I think I'll head to The West Wing and see if he's hungry."

The woman of porcelain nodded her head in agreement, and tried her best to hide her excitement at the two of them possibly bonding. Per her request, a tray was assembled with biscuits, gravy, a couple slices of ham, and a warm up of tea, just as The Beast always liked it.

She could only hope that he was just feeling under the weather from the rain, rather than avoiding her, and that he'd appreciate the gesture of a warm meal.

But to her horror, when she walked through the doors of The West Wing, she was met with a harrowing sight.

She dropped the tray of food and ran to the side of The Beast, who was curled in a fetal position at the base of the Enchanted Rose, writhing in gruesome pain.

Another petal had fallen.

Chapter Text

It was routine to avoid the others when a petal was expected to fall. The simple act tended to have unfortunately violent results, in solidifying The Beast's state. With every petal fallen, a bit of his humanity would be lost. And each episode was more painful than the last.

He'd only meant to take a peek in the mirror, to see if Belle had gone down for breakfast or not. There was a price to pay each time he used the mirror's magic- he had to face his reflection. This was not something he chose to do often, for his own sanity. But it was as if The Enchantress was watching him from somewhere, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Right as he gained the courage to look into the mirror, a petal descended from the rose, and Beast fell to his knees.

The familiar agonizing pain he would never be used to, more brutal than before. From his core grew an echoing ache that spread throughout his misshapen body. His ears rang with the repeating words of The Enchantress' curse as he yelped and cried, begging for it to stop. Though in reality, this episode only lasted a few minutes, it felt like hours. Days, even. It exhausted him completely, though he had yet to fall unconscious from the event.

It felt as though forever had passed before a vision of a woman appeared above him. In his foggy state, he could not tell who it was, but surprisingly chose to be optimistic.

"Belle?" He cried, still clutching his core.

But this plea was met with no mercy, as Feya, The Enchantress, replied with mocking laughter.

"Foolish creature..."

She was early.

"You think one conversation in the rain will be enough for that stupid girl to love you?"

Beast held out his paw, pleadingly.

"Feya... Please... Make it stop..." He begged, as the pain continued to pulse through his veins.

The Enchantress ceased her laughter and slapped him across the face with no hesitation.

"Please!" He continued as he stumbled backward onto his side. As he caught his breath, he felt a trickle of blood slide down his face. "I've learned my lesson! Let me go!"

Feya wiped his blood from her ring, a delicate ring made of golden thorns, and eyed him with a smile plastered on her face.

"Have you, now?" She stepped around him, making a point to step on his paw with the heel of her boot, pressing her weight into this step.

"Tell me about the girl."

The Beast tried to pull his paw from underneath her, and whimpered as he felt her heel begin to rip his flesh. After a few seconds of torment, Feya finally let up and crouched behind him, delicately petting the hair around his horns.

He answered her demand with silence. The last thing he wanted was for Feya to get to Belle. Even if it meant enduring further punishment at her hand, he would protect Belle and spare her from Feya's relentless torture. It was, after all, what a gentleman would do. And after their time together the night before, he felt drawn to Belle in a way he couldn't explain.

The Enchantress gripped the hair she had been petting and aggressively yanked his head toward her.

"Shall I go and visit her? Shall I convince her that the only way to break the curse and save her little friends is to kill you? Hm?"

The Beast huffed and began to pant as his heart raced. He would have called her bluff if he didn't know what evil Feya was capable of.

"Leave... her... out of this..." He warned through gritted teeth.

Feya smiled and stood, pushing him forward onto the cold floor.

"Perhaps I'll pay her a visit and see if she shows me more kindness than you ever did."

As she walked around him, Beast held out his paw in an attempt to grab her ankle and trip her. This attempt would be futile, though, as she kicked his paw away and, as if it were nothing, she grabbed The Beast by the throat and held him in the air.

The fury of her dark magic swirled around them and her eyes changed from green to a pure white, just as they did the night she'd set the curse.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Her voice echoed. "You insolent creature! Have you learned NOTHING! Try something like that again and it shall be you who kills her! I will turn your body into nothing but a shell and make you watch as you tear her to pieces!"

Beast struggled and kicked his feet with the last of his strength, trying to break free from her grasp.

"Let... me... go! Leave... me... alone!" He begged one last time before Feya violently dropped him to the floor with a thud, leaving his limp body on the floor of his suite.

"As you wish, your highness."

With a flick of her wrist, The Enchantress was gone.

---------------------

When Belle found The Beast, she rushed over to his side. He was mumbling to himself, and seemed unable to hear her.

Belle's arrival was only mere minutes after The Enchantress had left him, and due to the pain he was in, he was inconsolable.

"Beast? Beast!" She shook his side and looked to see if there was a wound. Did he fall? Had he been attacked? She couldn't see any blood, and though he was conscious, he was unresponsive.

She lifted onto her knees and gently pulled his face toward her, forcing eye contact between them. When he finally met her gaze, his face filled with a rage she'd seen only once before.

Unfortunately for the both of them, Beast was in such a state of foggy confusion, that he perceived Belle to be Feya, and yanked himself from her soft grip, growling at her touch.

"I thought I made it clear I wished to be LEFT ALONE!" He roared and pushed her from him.

Belle shielded herself from his claws with her arms in front of her, and didn't fight back against his attack. She was more surprised by this reaction than anything else, as she thought they'd had a nice moment the previous night. She even had wanted to get to know him more, to become friends.

But it was clear he felt differently.

Normally, she would correct his monstrous behavior and scold his temper, but she was more disappointed and hurt by his rejection than anything. It reminded her of the men in her village, who one second seemed to worship the very ground she walked on behind closed doors, and the next, wanted nothing to do with her. They only ever wanted one thing from her, and chose to discard her once they got a taste of what they wanted.

Belle stood and brushed herself off, frowning at The Beast, fighting back her tears.

"You're just like the rest of them."

As she made her exit from The West Wing, she couldn't help but give in to the hopelessness the rest of the castle seemed to feel. In truth, she wanted to leave. She desperately missed her home. Her father. Her bed. Her books. But she felt that if she didn't break the curse over the castle, no one would. And she couldn't live with herself if she chose to leave, knowing she'd left all those poor people behind.

Even The Beast.

Though he seemed cruel and unforgiving, she had seen a kinder side of him. A tender, softer side of him. One that begged her to stay.

And so, she retreated to The East Wing for the remainder of the day, choosing to isolate herself from the rest of the castle.

Chapter Text

The next morning was a morning of recovery. While his physical injuries from his encounter with The Enchantress seemed to have magically disappeared overnight, the mental anguish and recovery from the trauma was one he would struggle with.

Beast was greeted by his regular cup of tea, and an array of breakfast pastries and protein.

The rest of the evening from the day prior was a blur, but at some point he must’ve retired to his bed.

His heart sank, as he realized his plans to connect with Belle over brunch were interrupted by his condition. It had been a while since he’d engaged in any type of flirtation or spark of romance, but being in close proximity in the pouring rain on the balcony, under perfect moonlight… That was undeniable. Wasn’t it?

Perhaps this would be the day.

The Beast dressed himself (with the usual assistance from stationary servants in the West Wing) in a clean set of clothes and bounded toward the East Wing to seek out Belle.

When he went to knock on her door, he saw it was already cracked open. Luckily, she was already awake. As not to spook her, he knocked gently on the wooden door before entering.

Belle was sitting at the writing desk, heavily focused on a piece of parchment she had seemingly just finished. She returned the quill back into its ink pot before lifting her head and happily responding, “Come in!”

But when she turned to see her visitor, her face fell.

“Oh you’re…not who I was expecting.”

This sudden shift in demeanor confused The Beast, but perhaps it was just a temporary disappointment.

“Uh, good morning. I hope you slept well.”

“I slept fine, thank you.”

Her tone was dry as she turned back around to face the desk and attend to her drying parchment. It appeared she’d rather watch ink dry than speak to him.

“The weather has cleared up. I thought you might want to take a walk in the gardens with me today. I know you’ve been wanting to explore them.”

Belle was still bitter about Beast’s behavior the day prior, and while it was a misguided aggression on his part, unfortunately, neither of them had communicated this. Sure, it seemed petty. But Belle felt her disdain was justified.

“I’d rather not.”

Her response was quick and without hesitation.

Beast’s insecurities suddenly came through. Perhaps she hadn’t felt the way he did that night on the balcony. Was it just a foolish fantasy he’d created between them?

Of course it was.

She’d realized the mistake she’d made in opening up to him, and realized what a pathetic creature he could be. With his memory foggy from the day prior, he had no other reason to think her change in behavior was due to anything else.

She’d never see him as anything more than a monster.

“As you wish.”

Beast accepted her rejection and hung his head on his way out the door.

With a hard thud, he shut the double doors and shut Belle out from his heart.

—————

Belle listened for the sound of his heavy footsteps to walk away from the door before letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

What was he thinking? That suddenly, after he’d growled and bared his teeth at her, demanding she leave him alone, that she’d wish to fraternize with him in the gardens the very next day?

He’d already let her down once, after a seemingly heartfelt night on the terrace, and Belle would not make the same mistake twice.

The young woman huffed and brushed the stray hairs out of her face before retrieving her letter from the desk.

Since the day she’d returned to the castle with the Beast, she’d been writing letters to her father. Letters she knew would never reach him, but the catharsis of a one-sided conversation was something that seemed to help with her odd situation.

She talked of The Beast and his servants, of the new discoveries she made each day in the castle, and most importantly, how she felt about it all. It was almost like a diary, in the way that these letters kept her company.

Once the letter was finished, Belle slipped it into an envelope, sealed it with wax, and tucked it away into the desk drawer, where it would stay safe and sound.

——————

Hushed voices typically followed The Beast as he stalked around the castle, but today they were ever more agitated. The prying eyes of the walls had seen the two together on the terrace, and were given what the creature would describe as false hope of their release from the spell.

Their master typically ignored the whispers and echoes that followed, until one of them decided to face him directly.

“M-Master?”

The head of the royal staff appeared in his steampunkish form, adorned with ticking gears and copper finishings.

The Beast grunted in response.

“This month’s delivery has arrived. Would his grace like to inspect the contents?”

This was odd, as typically the staff handled what they needed and made sure it was distributed to their rightful places within the castle.

“We seem to have a p-problem!”

As The Beast followed his servant into the loading area, he peered at the many wooden crates that filled the space. If almost to fill the silence, the ticking man began to spiel on about each crate and it’s contents.

“…And as you can see, this one is filled with the necessary and requested cleaning supplies. We place our orders with the most revered company based in Paris, and have had no issues with them.

However, this crate over here, is one that I don’t recall ordering and it has an odd label on the front. It appears to be dusted with gold flake, perhaps? Though I’d need to test it to be sure…”

The mystery crate in question was addressed specifically to The Prince, in a script that seemed to anger him. He recognized the writing as the same script that graced another gift he’d been given; The Mirror.

This crate was from The Enchantress.

The Beast ran his claws against the wood, sinking deep scratches into its lid.

“S-Shall I open it, your grace?”

As a response, Beast pried open the lid with his claws and sneered at the contents of the crate.

Jewels, dresses, and other fine garments filled the crate to the brim, along with an array of books that sat toward the bottom.

Though it looked mundane, he knew all too well that every gift from Feya came with a catch.

“Recover it and store it in the tunnels. Nothing is to be touched.”

Without a word, his servants obeyed. Except, of course, a few approving words from Cogsworth.

“Yes, splendid. Excellent idea, sire!”

As he peered over the room, Beast suddenly came to a halt.

“Who ordered these?” He hissed and pointed to, not one, but three crates of books.

Interrupting Cogsworth’s panicked muttering, Lumiere bowed and entered the receiving area. “That would be me, your highness.”

“Unnecessary.”

The Beast snarled at the wax figure.

“Return them at once.”

“Bien sûr, bien sûr… Except I do know of someone who might appreciate some new things to read. Don’t you think?”

Unlike his master, Lumiere had noticed Belle’s affinity for literature, and snuck some extra orders of books from her village in the monthly supply.

With an annoyed growl, The Beast crossed his arms and muttered something incoherent.

“I thought so. Now- Did you want to deliver them to her or shall I?”

With how things had gone that morning, he wasn’t really desperate to go back into The East Wing anytime soon.

“I’ll deliver them…later.”

“Master, we don’t exactly have time for ‘later’, the rose is wilting now-”

The small mention of the cursed object caused Beast to fly into a rage. He gripped Lumiere by his upper arms and let his claws slowly sink into the wax.

“How dare you!” He spit and snarled as he reprimanded the servant. “If anyone here is aware of how quickly the wretched thing is wilting, it’s me!”

“Your highness!” Cogsworth shouted at he watched his friend be berated.

When Beast realized how much damaged he’d done to Lumiere’s waxy exterior, he released his grip in horror.

What had he done?

He’d almost destroyed one of his very best servants. One of the very few who hadn’t given up on him yet.

Luckily, Lumiere felt no pain and quickly molded himself back together. He was lucky- if it were flesh, he wouldn’t have been able to be reformed so easily.

“Sire,” He began. “We all felt the fall of another petal yesterday. We’re only trying to help you. If you’d let us, perhaps the girl won’t feel so much as a prisoner here, but a guest.”

His face fell.

“She’s the only stranger to wander even close to the castle since the spell was set. She is our only hope. Without her, we will all be…” He sighed.

“Well, you know.”

Though he didn’t want to admit it, Lumiere was right. His eyes still traced the places on his arms where his claws had harmed him, and for the first time in a long time, The Beast felt a sort of Regret. Guilt.

“I…I am sorry. For all of this.”

His voice broke as he exited the loading area, and restored back into his secluded corner of the castle.

Like a child, he curled into his chair by the fire and held his misshapen body close. As he closed his eyes, he wished for everything to disappear. That when he woke up, this would all have been a nightmare. He wished this every night for the past however many years the curse had been set.

Even before then, this was a common wish.

Some nights, he even wished he wouldn’t wake up. That the rose would be blown away by a storm, and it would end all at once.

He could only hope that another night’s sleep would bring some sort of clarity on how to redeem himself in Belle’s eyes.

Chapter Text

What seemed to be a restful night for Beast became a restless one for his guest. Belle tossed and turned as she thought over her frustrating feelings for her captor. While technically, he wasn’t her captor anymore, she still saw him in that way.

It was his actions that kept them all confined to the castle, and therefore she grouped herself along with his servants.

Her dreams that night were filled with confusing themes of homesickness, disdain, but still a kindness toward The Beast.

That is, until a new figure appeared in her dreams.

Belle was caught in a windstorm, with a strong air pulling her in every direction. When her vision began to clear, she could see the figure was a young man she recognized, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t place where she knew him from. He was dressed in white and gold, and his auburn hair was loose and weightless.

With his left hand, he reached for her, calling her name.

“Belle… Come find me… Belle…”

She soon realized his clothing matched decorative motifs she’d seen around the castle.

“Where are you?” She asked, reaching for him. The winds kept them apart by a few yards or so, but there was no mistaking the pained and desperate look on his face as he reached for her.

“I am here! Find me! Set us free!”

The winds were getting strong, but Belle fought harder.

“Where can I find you?” She shouted.

Their hands barely grazed each other before she saw the piercing blue of his eyes. She knew that blue, it was as familiar as the warmth of the sun.

As their eyes met, the stranger suddenly stopped fighting against the winds. Belle grunted as she lunged for him one last time, before he disappeared into the storm.

“The gardens!” His voice echoed and rang in her ears as the young woman shot up in bed.

That man… That voice… It was all so familiar.

Nonetheless, she had a mission. To find the stranger in the gardens.

——————

“Act like a gentleman… Act like a gentleman…”

Beast was repeating this mantra of sorts to himself as he carried crates of books up the stairs toward The East Wing. One perk of his horrendous state was his size and strength. Sure, he had a preferable body in his human state. But it wasn’t used for much other than occasional hunting. Certainly not for carrying crates up hundreds of stairs. He much preferred someone else to do it for him.

But those days were in the past. And if this plan went well, perhaps she’d be impressed by the lengths of which he’d go for her.

However, his grand gesture was interrupted by the fact that Belle was nowhere to be found in The East Wing.

“Belle?”

He dropped the crates of books with a thud and surveyed the room. Her bed was made, her boots were gone, along with her cloak that no longer hung on the rack against the wall.

Could she have- No. Beast dismissed the thought of her possibly running away. She wouldn’t have left without saying anything.

That’s when he heard a fit of laughter coming from outside.

Beast hurried to the window, and was relieved by the sight.

Belle could be seen in the gardens, playing with what once used to be the royal dog, Sultan. He now more resembled a footstool, but didn’t seem to mind as he jumped from drying puddles in the grass and soaked the delicate velvet in mud.

“Sultan!” Belle laughed as she tried to catch the creature without being doused in the leftover sludge from the rain.

This would be to no avail, as the creature leapt into her arms and smeared her dress with mud.

Her hands and lap were completely filthy.

Belle gasped and let go of the creature as he continued to run through the gardens without her.

“Oh when I catch you, you are getting a bath! We’re supposed to be looking for a sign! Not-” She wiped mud from her cheek. “Not playing in the dirt!”

She grabbed the ends of her skirts and tucked them under her bodice, safely into her corset, to make it easier to walk through the bushes and bramble.

The immediate garden was separated into four quadrants. Each corner of the property was guarded by statues, all except for one. The first two had been the King and Queen, and as Belle approached the third, she realized it was not the mystery man from her dream, but a woman.

Her outstretched hand faced The Queen, who reached for her in return, while the King’s statue held his hands behind his back.

He reached for no one.

As she grew closer, Belle saw a plaque on the base of the statue, though she couldn’t make out what it said. The name was completely covered by vines dipped in thorns, and while that could give no clues as to who the woman was, she was dressed plainly, unlike the others.

Her hair was curled, with bangs that framed her face. There was no color to these statues, but she could only imagine the beauty this woman held, and the suitors that must’ve followed.

Her eyes held great mystery, and were almost eerie. As if she was looking back at her admirer.

She was no monarch, nor seemed to be dressed like anyone of any title. But for some reason, someone wanted her to be remembered. Enough to make a statue of her.

Sultan had made it all the way to the last corner of the gardens before barking up a storm, and Belle was pulled away from the statue of the woman, and greeted the canine-like footstool with a smile.

But that smile faded when she looked up at who the fourth statue could be.

The statue was gone.

The pedestal remained, with no sign of anyone breaking the statue from its place. It was if there was never one at all.

Belle stood, confused, wondering who the missing monarch could’ve been.

But Beast, who’d crept from her bedroom into the garden, knew exactly what she was looking for.

He stayed at a safe distance from his guest, careful not to alert her of his presence.

She’d found his family’s memorial sites, and was staring at The Prince’s reserved place in the gardens.

What a shame it was that his statue would never be placed in the garden, as his statue was modeled after a man. Not a monster.

When the rose would inevitably kill him, no one would be left to place a statue in memoriam.

Belle would leave, and no one would be left to remember him.

It was better that way, he thought.

Just as he settled into the bushes, Sultan noticed his movement and began running and jumping excitedly toward him.

Startled by the sudden energy, Belle jumped and turned her head, but Sultan had run far enough past the limit of her sight.

Her father had always suggested she get her sight checked, but she never got around to it.

“Sultan! Come back, boy!”

In fear of Belle catching him spying, Beast did his best to shoo the footstool away.

“No! Go away! Go!” He whispered, pushing Sultan off of him, but the creature was persistent.

Even as a beast, his family dog still treated him the same.

A whistle was heard, and both Beast and Sultan’s ears perked up at the sound. The footstool took off running toward Belle, who knelt and welcomed him back with open arms.

This would be strategic, though, as she suddenly exclaimed “Aha! You’re not escaping me this time! It’s straight to the tub for you!”

She looked back to see what Sultan could’ve gotten so excited about, but still couldn’t see anything from so far away.

Beast finally let out an exhale he’d been holding as Belle disappeared around the corner. Without thinking, he gripped the bush he’d been hiding behind, and winced at the feeling of small thorns lodging into his paw pads.

He seethed in pain as he realized what he’d done. He’d done this many times as a boy, during the rare times he was able to play in the gardens. Back then, his fingers were small enough to pull the thorns out and continue on his way. But now, his claws were much too large to grip the thorns, let alone remove them.

He’d just have to wrap his hand for now. Perhaps one of the servants would have small enough appendages to remove them.

This hopeful thought, however, would prove futile, as most of his servants had a lack of hands entirely.

Beast grumbled at dinner as he attempted to eat his soup with a spoon. The stinging pain in his paw matched with the grappling of a small piece of silverware was proving to be too much. He dropped the spoon on the table and huffed in frustration.

Belle looked up from the book she was reading and furrowed her brows at his sorry excuse for wrapping on his hand.

“What happened to your…”

The two had been eating in silence until then.

“What? Oh, this?” Beast held up his paw.

“It’s nothing.”

Belle took a sip of her wine.

“I thought we had agreed to be honest with each other.”

Beast grew more frustrated at her sudden quip.

“I am! It just-“ He huffed and took a moment to collect himself before losing his temper. The thorns had begun to itch and he was growing hungrier with each minute. Not to mention the uncomfortable unresolved tension between him and Belle.

“It’s fine.”

Belle sighed and set her book down as she stood from the table.

“No, you don’t have to-”

Before he could protest, she was already unwrapping his bandage.

“Spend some time in the gardens today?” She asked slyly.

Beast’s cheeks turned a slight pink and looked away from her as she inspected his paw pads.

As she pulled the thorns out one by one, he whimpered and winced. Her gentle touch sent chills through his body. Their awkward tension was more painful than the thorns.

“Thank you for the books, by the way. That was… very kind of you to think of me.”

“I’m-” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you like them.”

Though the last of the thorns had been removed, for some reason, Belle still held onto his paw.

“Why does it always take you getting injured for us to come together?” Belle laughed sheepishly.

“I don’t intend for it to be a habit.”

“What? Getting injured or spending time with me?”

Beast finally looked down at their hands, and noticed Belle’s lack of disgust toward their touch.

Perhaps his condition wasn’t the reason for her to avoid him after all.

“About that,” He began. “I wanted to apologize if I scared you before. I… don’t exactly have a stacked social calendar, and I don’t always realize how… fearsome I can be.”

Belle smiled softly and held his paw with both of her hands.

“I am not afraid of you, Beast.”

His eyes finally met hers.

“And I accept your apology.”

With the warmth of the fire to keep them company, Belle moved her table setting from the opposite end to a spot next to The Beast, and they both finished their meals together.

She chose not to ask about his romp in the gardens, as she could only guess he’d been spying on her, and decided to spare him the embarrassment.

Now that they were warming up to each other again, she considered asking him about the mystery man from her dream, and the missing statue, but chose to enjoy The Beast’s company instead. He was odd, but had an excellent sense of humor at times. He was such a mystery to her, and she was ever so curious about what life he must’ve led.

For now, her pressing questions would have to wait.

Chapter Text

“When I asked if you’d join me for an afternoon stroll, I didn’t expect you to say yes.”

Beast and Belle walked side by side through the gardens, hands folded at their backs, passing over the bridge that stretched over a man made lake.
Though Belle had explored the gardens the day prior, she’d only seen a small part of it. The gardens stretched all the way out toward the forests and cliffs beyond, on all sides of the castle. The property was incredibly isolated, as the only side that didn’t drop off into cliffs was the entrance. It was vast and beautiful, and Belle admired it so.
“Why not?” She laughed. “I keep my promises.”

Beast rolled his eyes.

“And you’ve already shown me so much more than I could have ever found on my own.”

He’d shown her the seasons gardens, where different flora and fauna bloomed depending on the season. It was the ending of autumn, so there weren’t many colorful ones to be seen, but Belle could guess how beautiful everything looked in the spring, and how she couldn’t wait to see it.

They’d also paid a visit to the cemetery, where he vaguely described the resting souls. He’s purposeful skipped the statues Belle had found the day prior, as that was a part of his past he didn’t wish to dig into just yet, and Belle was mindful to not ask about them.

As they reached the pivotal point of the bridge, Belle gasped as she saw what he’d been leading her towards.

It was a grand gazebo, carved of marble, and covered in twisting vines of ivy and white roses. She hadn’t read too much on plant life, but it was odd that the flowers seemed so much in bloom for the time of year.

In truth, they were enchanted, much like the rest of the castle. They wilted along with the mystical Rose, hidden away in The West Wing.

White petals blew in the wind, circling the young woman, beckoning her to approach the gazebo. Inside sat a single bench of white marble.

If only she’d brought a book with her, she thought. This was the perfect hideaway reading spot.
“It’s beautiful!” She exclaimed, before brushing against Beast and leading him along toward the structure.

He peered around before following her, and made eye contact with living statues that were scattered amongst the hedges. These were once the royal gardeners, who were doomed to live the rest of their days in silence, continuing to tend to the property.
And as Belle ventured closer to the gazebo, she began to notice the other statues that surrounded them. Behind the gazebo was a garden of even more statues, who were not gardeners, but the guests that tried to flee the night of the Enchantress’ curse.
They hadn’t made it off the property in time.
Some looked sad upon their pedestals, while others looked hopeful, and began to turn their heads towards Belle.

It was an eerie sight, to say the least.
Belle felt her breath escape her as she had began to step backwards, away from the wandering eyes of the statues. She jumped as she stumbled backwards into The Beast, who caught her.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” His voice was quiet and calm, and brought ease to Belle’s mind. Even outside the castle, more people were depending on her to break whatever spell they were under.

She shook off the feelings of unease, and turned to face Beast, who still had his strong arms around her. Oddly enough, she hadn’t let go either.

“Belle?” His tone was one of concern now.

She smiled and back away from him, venturing into the gazebo.

“I’m fine!” She said cheerfully, though it was a facade. “Just a bit jumpy, I suppose. I was not expecting…”

Beast lingered in the doorway of the structure.
“It’s alright,” He lowered his tone into a whisper. “They frighten me a bit, as well.”

The pair laughed awkwardly.

After a few moments of taking in their surroundings, Belle cleared her throat.

“It’s not an unfamiliar feeling.” She started. “In my village, the people gawk and stare at me constantly. I almost always feel their eyes just… judging me for my every move.” Belle fiddled with her hands in her lap.

Beast found this odd, as he couldn’t understand why she would be judged. But he knew the feeling. He’d been constantly surveyed and supervised since the day he was born, even more so after the curse had been set. It was difficult to be alone when the literal walls had eyes.

“You must’ve had plenty of suitors.” He blurted.
She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the armrest of the bench, crossing her arms.

“Something like that.” She laughed.

Beast tilted his head in confusion. His statement, thought forward, was one he would believe, as her beauty was beyond all the princesses and duchesses he’d met in his youth.

Belle exclaimed in disgust at the mere thought of the character she would go on to describe.

“Alright, there’s one man who has had his sights on me since we moved to the village. He is roguish and rakish, and while he is handsome, he is as conceited as Narcissus himself. The entire town expects us to marry.”

She shook her head and scoffed.

“I’ve heard rumors from the other women… I am frightened to think what would happen if I were to be left alone, unchaperoned, with him.”

Beast shifted his weight uncomfortably. She’d come across monsters before ever setting foot in his castle.
“The men in your village sound terrible.” He remarked.

She continued. “I am half thankful to you that I never have to see his wretched face again. That fate had other plans for me.”

Belle smiled up at The Beast, and their eyes stayed in contact much longer than they had before, similar to the rainy night on the terrace.

Beast was the first to look away. He entered fully into the gazebo, and sat next to Belle on the bench. He let his paw rest on the cold marble, and felt a chill run through his arms.

“I…” He exhaled. “I am glad you decided to stay.”
Belle hummed happily and placed her hand over his paw. The size difference between them was astonishing and odd, but she found warmth in his company.

“I am, too.”

They remained like this for a while, taking in the beauty of the sunset as the orange and pink tones washed over gardens. It must’ve been half an hour before Beast lifted his paw and took her hand in his.
“I’d like to show you something.”

He guided her to the side of the gazebo, where an old wooden ladder rested behind the vines. It looked… flimsy at best. Once he’d retrieved it, he held out his paw to assist in helping her climb. To his surprise, she climbed up the ladder with ease, and waited for him to join her on the roof.

However, he did not use the ladder. Instead, he scaled the side of the structure. This was probably for the best, as the ladder most likely wouldn’t have held him.

Once Beast caught his breath, he greeted her with a smile.
“Well? What do you think?” He asked, as if the surprise was obvious.

Belle laughed. “What exactly am I looking for?”
Beast crouched behind her, at her eye level, and pointed into the distance. From where they stood, one could see the village. It was distant, but definitive. On the hill, resting just above the trees.
But Belle couldn’t see it. Her vision past the trees was completely blurred. Belle was nearsighted. She squinted in an attempt to see in the distance.
“What are you showing me?”

“Just…” He continued pointing at the village with one hand, while the other rested on her shoulder. “Just wait…”

Beast watched her face, waiting for the joy to reach her. But he could tell something was off.

Was she unable to see that far out?

As the sun continued its descent, the sky became darker and the air became colder, and she was grateful for The Beast’s gentle touch and warmth.
“What am I-” Belle was interrupted by the sight of small golden lights being lit in the distance.

He was showing her the lights of the village.

As one was lit, others followed, and Belle was in awe. She gasped in awe. Though she couldn’t see the details of the houses and their outlines, she was overjoyed by The Beast’s thoughtfulness.

“Oh!” She exclaimed. “It’s the village, isn’t it?”
Beast placed his hand on the small of her back.
“Can’t you see it?” He raised his brow, as the sight of the village was crystal clear from his point of view.

Belle shook her head. “But I can see the lights! They’re distant, but beautiful.”

She turned and placed a gentle hand on his chest.
“Thank you for sharing this with me. This was a very thoughtful gift.”

There was nothing but sincere gratefulness on her face, but Beast wasn’t satisfied. He wished she was able to see the village. If she was still planning on staying forever, the least he could do is give her a way to see her previous home.
With his sharp vision, he could also see how Belle began to shiver from the cold.
“Shall we head inside for some tea?”
She nodded and rubbed her arms for warmth, as she hadn’t noticed the harsh chill of the upcoming winter until now.
Beast unclipped the clasp from his cape and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Like a gentleman, he opened the doors for her as they re-entered the castle.

They agreed some time by the fire would be nice, and like magic, Mrs. Potts arrived swiftly with a fresh pot of peppermint tea.
As they sipped away, Belle and Beast shared brief stories from their vastly different childhoods. Belle’s was full of light and joy, of togetherness and reassurance from her father.

This contrasted drastically with Beast’s upbringing.
“My father… He never quite saw me for who I was as I wished he would. Nothing I did was ever… enough. And, believe me, I tried everything to desperately to gain his favor.”

Belle finished the last sip of her tea.

“Oh?”

“I became an expert hunter and fighter. At the age of ten, I’d consulted young men from the village who’d returned from war to train me in combat skills, as well as marksmanship. All to be ignored for some meaningless flirtation of the week.”

He began laughing.

“Except for one time, he demonstrated where on an animal I should be aiming, except I was the target! I spent a week in the infirmary!”

It wasn’t until he caught his breath that he realized Belle wasn’t laughing along.

“I’m… I’m so sorry he treated you that way.”

Her voice was sorrowful and sincere, and she gently placed her hand over his. This reaction was not one he expected, though the longer he paused, the more he realized what a grim story he had told.

“I suppose my childhood was not as amusing as I recall… You’re lucky to have the family that you do.”

“Yes.” She stated. “I am. And when I have children, I want them to be raised in a home filled with love, as I was.”

Belle set her cup down.

She’d spoken in reference to the future, as if she had one outside of the castle. She had promised to stay forever, even after Beast insisted she leave and continue her life.

“At least,” She backtracked. “…that was what I’d once wanted for myself.”

Beast, without thinking, took her hand in his and held it close.

“And you will have it.”

She shook her head. “Beast, please don’t.”

“No!” He protested and knelt on the floor, at the foot of her chair.

“You deserve to live in a house of love and joy, not in a castle of… of guilt and pity for the monster who trapped you here.”

Belle placed her other hand on his cheek.

“I need you to listen to me when I say this.”
She rubbed his coarse, scarred cheek with her thumb.

“I do not stay out of pity. You are my friend. And I wish to set you free. You and everyone else trapped here.”

“Belle-” He leaned into her touch.

“Even if I left this very second, even if the spell made me forget, my heart would always be stuck here, and will never be free until you are, too.”

The rest of the evening consisted of Belle, very sleepily, describing the villagers and their dynamics. It seemed there was not a single young man in town she found interest in, nor person at all she could confide in.

It was possible that, somehow, he’d become her only real friend outside of her small family.

Was it convenience or fate?

Belle yawned and wrapped his cape around her, nestling into her velvet-lined chair. It didn’t take long for her to fall into a deep sleep.

The tea didn’t affect Beast so easily, though, and he panicked slightly as he realized he’d need to carry her to her chambers, lest she wish to wake up with a sore neck in the morning. The chairs were comfortable, but not quite a nice shape for sleeping long periods.

He exhaled and stood. She was small in comparison, and he’d have no issue carrying her. It was the close proximity that made him nervous. While they may be friends, things she did made his heart flutter. Her contagious laugh, the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight, even the most gentle accidental touch made his heartbeat race.

With an internal pep talk to inspire confidence, he slid a paw under her legs, and the other behind her back for support, and carried her, bridal style, up to the East Wing.
——————
When Belle awoke, she’d been neatly tucked into bed. She was still in her day clothes from the afternoon prior, and noticed she was still clutching The Beast’s cape, as it lay like a blanket over her.
She inhaled its distinct scent. It was a mix of smoke, whiskey, and something floral. To her surprise, it brought her comfort.

Nothing in her chambers seemed amiss, safe for a small box, tied with a ribbon, that lay on the pillow beside her.

Her heart melted as she opened the box to find a pair of sparkling, gold framed spectacles, connected to a delicate woven chain of matching gold. The chain resembled vines, and held small charms of what she could only guess were roses.

She ran to the window and slid the delicate arms over her ears, and gasped in delight as her vision adjusted.

From her window, she could see, just over the trees, her village, and atop the hill, her father’s house.
Her eyes filled with tears of joy as she marveled at the view, a view she’d never been able to see before, and suddenly, she saw The Beast and his castle from an entirely new perspective.

Chapter Text

“The first snow of the season! Isn’t it wonderful?”

Charlie, or ‘Chip’ as he was called, sped down the halls of the East wing with his mother hurrying behind.

“Yes, child. Slow down! Before you break your wheels!”

Chip, a boy of porcelain, was once a handicapped child whose crutch was little help with his condition. Times became tough, and as he grew, his crutch became too small and awkward to use. A wheelchair was once the goal for him, but with money tight, accessibility was even more difficult to reach.

With his new form, however, it seemed he was one of the few who was aided in the curse. Given a full set of wheels, his body was attached to a functioning tea cart, complete with matching sets of cups. As fragile as a porcelain body was, he saw no issue in wheeling himself down the lengthy hallways and ramps throughout the castle.

And bursting through Belle’s bedroom door it seemed, too.

“Haha!” He laughed. “I told you we’d make it, mother.”

Ordinarily, she’d be out of breath, but suddenly Mrs. Potts was thankful not to have a set of lungs as she followed him through the wide open doors.

“Good morning to you too, Chip.”

Belle smiled, one brow raised. The boy had become somewhat of a younger brother figure in the past month. A rare spot of joy in the otherwise dreary castle. And he didn’t often think twice before speaking, which Belle preferred.

She was standing on a stool, her arms raised in the air, as Madame Delile laced a beautiful redingote over her form. A dark crimson color, a various shade of the natural blush in Belle’s cheeks, made of only the finest velvet. Or so the seamstress of ribbons had said.

“Did you see it? Did you see the snow yet, Belle?”

“Not up close yet, no.”

“And not until she is properly dressed, no!”

Madame chimed in.

“We cannot have our princess catching a cold!”

Belle’s nose crinkled. She didn’t favor that word, nor could she ever see herself in that role. She far too much favored her freedom for any type of role that kept her confined to one place for too long.

At least, she used to.

Her dreams of traveling would have to wait, but it would be worth it, she told herself. Her friends in the castle were much too important to her. And what worth would traveling be if not for the chance for her friends to come along with her?

Even the Beast, if he so wished.

——————

The Beast had no need for winter wear, though he was gifted a dashing new cloak regardless. A deep purple with a gold clasp. Though he favored silver and black, he’d have to hold onto that note for the time being.

Now, he stood looking upwards at the one woman who could ever love him.

His mother’s cold statue showed anything but coldness. Her arms outstretched toward the woman across the gardens. For her, really.

The Queen had always been close with the royal historian. For a kingdom that was known for its higher education, the Queen had sought only the finest of tutors, scholars, and educators from across the land to service her and her kin. It was no surprise that her majesty, who prioritized education, had grown close to the woman. She was summoned from Paris to work closely with the royal family. Enough so, that she’d become family herself.

Though he didn’t remember it, the historian had tutored the prince in his youth. Teaching him beyond the common language, and even into the arts and sciences of the world around them. Lessons often took place here, among the flowers in spring. Often with the Queen in attendance, though she was intelligent and wise beyond her years.

She was happier with the historian around, the two almost always spending their days and nights in the library. Pouring over different books. Fiction, non-fiction, even writing some of their own. The young queen had no living relatives, and saw the historian as family enough. Closer, a lover, even. Though that was kept behind close doors, with no one but her closest servants with the secret knowledge.

When the historian and her husband began to start a family outside the palace walls, the Queen couldn’t bear to deny her request for leave. She offered her own suite up for her friend to live in until the baby was born, but thankful as she was for her generous friend, the historian could not accept.

She left, and her majesty never saw her again. All that remained of her in the palace was her statue, a pillar to the education she provided to her people, and the friendship she brought to their Queen.

Just before death, it was the historian the Queen had called out for. Rather than her husband, who refused to watch as she withered away.

Beast remembered very little of his mother, and with each day that passed, more and more memories of her began to disappear. In the gardens, he studied her face of stone, hoping at the very least to remember her eyes and the warmth they once held.

He stood in the snow, his paw pads chilled by the freezing ground, and was unbothered. At least, until he heard the crunching steps of bronze behind him.

Lumiere stood, a sharpened leaf of bronze in hand, and waited for his master’s command.

“Do you think she likes them?”

Beast asked softly.

“I do, your highness.”

“Mmm…”

He looked to the hellebores flowers that bloomed in her corner of the garden, and began to pick over which one he wished to cut.

While the entire garden was hers, he wished for her only to have the best in bloom. All of them were beautiful, painted different shades of pink, plum, and white. And he’d finally settled on a healthy pink one, before he noticed a large bloom of purple shade had fallen from its stem. Too heavy, he guessed.

Beast hesitated before picking it up, in fear that his claws would shred it or his paws would somehow destroy it. He destroyed everything he touched, and something as delicate as a flower was sure to become collateral as well. But to his surprise, it stayed completely intact.

Carefully, cautiously, he placed it in his mother’s outstretched hand. It fit perfectly in her palm, and filled her cold hand with warmth.

“Well done, your highness.” Lumiere complimented, his voice hushed and somber.

With a quiet nod, Beast began to make his way indoors before hearing laughter coming from the opposite side of the castle yard. Peering around the corner, his breath was stolen by the sight of Belle- dressed in a deep velvet with glove to match. She was chasing Sultan, who had stolen the other glove from her hand.

She’d planned on attempting to skate upon the ice that covered the large castle pond, but without her glove, she had a difficult time tying her skate’s laces. With her hands shaking from the cold, it seemed her dream of skating was futile.

“Sultan!” She called as she let out a laugh of exhaustion. “That thief of a dog-stool-whatever you are!”

She tried whistling, to which the dog did not respond to, and only ran faster in circles through the snow. At this rate, he’d kick up all the snow in the gardens before Belle would get her glove back.

A long, low whistle echoed across the garden, which stopped the dog in his tracks. From seemingly out of nowhere, Beast appeared by Belle’s side, and clicked his tongue twice.

This was an established command that worked instantly with the creature, and within seconds, the glove was dropped at his feet.

Astonished by the action, Belle couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well that would’ve been nice about thirty minutes ago!”

Beast chuckled, kneeling to pick up the glove and return it to her freezing hand.

The dog wagged his tail happily and waited to be released, but not before Belle knelt and had choice words for him.

“You are a scoundrel! A thief! I shall lock you in the dungeons forever and hold you as my prisoner! Doomed to a life of solitude and despair!”

Cheekily, she turned and smirked at the Beast, whose cheeks were now a faint pink.

“Too soon?” She asked, in jest of course. Their history was an odd one, and it only made sense to joke about it from time to time. ‘Coping’, Lumiere had called it.

Belle pet the soft velvet of Sultan’s back and scratched behind his tassel ‘ears’, before Beast clicked his tongue once more and released the creature from his hold.

This, of course, sent the dog back into his wild energy and he began licking the young woman’s face with a tongue of soft fabric, which was somehow even more ticklish than a normal canine’s tongue would be.

The woman fell onto her back into the snow, laughing as the creature toppled over her. His boundless energy provided plenty of kisses to her cheeks and neck before pouncing back into the snow and bounding away.

Beast offered a hand to help her up, to which she happily accepted.

"What are you doing out here?" She asked. Though she wasn't unhappy to see the lord of the castle, she hadn't seen him spend too much time out in the open air. She guessed his fur was warm enough to not be too inconvenient, but still, the question remained.

"I was taking a walk."

"I see..."

Something about Beast's demeanor was different. Sadder, maybe. Sadder than his normal melancholy mood. A way to cheer him up...

"It's a great day for skating. Won't you skate with me?" She offered a hand and a cheerful smile, but feared it wouldn't be enough to coax him from his shell. There were certain moments that the Beast tended to open up. After was particularly well fed, or after a few flutes of a shared sparkling beverage.

But a simple smile, though enticing, didn't work this time.

He wanted to. Belle knew he did. She could read it on his face, the way his brows furrowed and eyes glistened, before falling sad and conflicted once again.

"I... have matters to attend to. Another time."

And before a rebuttal could be made, the Beast had disappeared once more.

——————

On the hill overlooking the village, a quaint and perfect cottage stood still. Its light had been much diminished since Belle's disappearance. And with every passing day, her father, Maurice, grew weary.

The man was odd. At least, he was to most. With his short stature and wide vocabulary, paired with spectacles that switched out lenses and socks that never matched- the man was often left out of important conversation. Overwritten, overruled, and still overworked himself to the bone on a way to find his missing daughter.

The only problem was this: He couldn't remember where she'd gone.

The more time that passed since his. time at the castle, the more his memory of it diminished entirely. Belle, he never forgot. But the man of wax, the dungeon he'd inhabited, and the lord of the castle, The Beast, it was all wiped from memory. And with such a wild imagination as he had, not having concrete answers as to where his daughter was, was somehow worse than remembering the monster who kept her captive.

The monster that had threatened his very life. Threatened hers.

And for all the father knew, his daughter could be dead. Rotting somewhere, alone. She would've been brave about it, he knew. But that he couldn't hold her and keep her safe, couldn't trade her life for his (the way she had done for him, though his memory couldn't allow him to remember), it was breaking his heart in an irreparable way.

Beast watched in his mirror as the elderly man sobbed in his home. He held in his arms the dress of Belle's late mother, praying that his wife and his daughter were at least together.

The creature's ears drooped sadly, knowing he'd done this to them. He'd taken Belle from her family, and her father was suffering each day because of it. The Beast could dress Belle in the finest gowns, gift her glasses to see her faraway home, but he could not treat her father to the same comfortability. Unless...

He remembered the letters he'd seen Belle write. At dinner, in the early mornings, once every few days he'd find her writing a letter to her father. And while she was quiet about it, he knew she had to have stashed them somewhere, unable to send them.

Cogsworth was summoned to The West Wing, where his lordship explained his plan. And by morning, a crate was delivered to Maurice's doorstep, carrying the finest jewels, fabrics, a heavy sack of gold and silver coins, and Belle's letters.

Each month, Beast decided, Maurice would receive word from his daughter, along with treasures to ensure his stability. Rent, supplies, anything the man could ask for while his daughter remained in Beast's care, would be provided. And any special requests, of course, could be negotiated. In a letter to help ease the man's worries for Belle, the Beast instructed Cogsworth to describe him as a lord in a foreign land, who'd accepted Belle as his temporary ward. She would return home once he passed, and they would never have to worry for anything ever again.

It wasn't an outright lie. She would return home once the spell had concluded and the last petal fell, and he'd make sure she took the keys to his vault with her. For her service as a monster's friend, she deserved nothing less.

And Belle, of course, was kept in the dark about this entire plan. Safe for the letters, which she assumed had been magically sent to her father on behalf of the castle staff. She thanked them silently as she finished another, reassuring her father that though she missed him terribly, she was happy.

Chapter Text

Belle had learned very quickly not to ask too many questions of her captor. Not about his history, his present habits, and certainly not his future once the curse was set into stone. At the mere mention of the castle dwellers being enchanted, personalities seemed to dim and hide away, as if the mere mention of it would ensure their stationary status forever.

There had to be something she could do.

Her fantasy books often mentioned magic and vague things about spells and their nature. But of course, these could not be trusted to be based in reality. Even if they were, the authors would not be persuaded to answer an invitation to a horrifically enchanted castle any time soon. Not if they knew the wrath of the Beast.

He'd graciously allowed her to send letters to her father, and didn't wish to push her luck on inviting alternative guests. For her sake, and for theirs.

As it began to manifest too cold outside for daily excursions, she found herself a victim of boredom and hyperactive curiosity. On a good day, she'd go skating and pretend not to notice the Beast carefully watching her from a window. On others, she'd sit in front of the fire and write in her journal. Even sketching the sconces on the wall, though her drawings started rather crude. The more she practiced, even out of pure boredom as not to go insane, the better she got.

After dinner one evening, she began sketching the Beast as he sat across from her. Dribbles of soup in his beard, on his cheeks. She studied his form- his broad shoulders, slim waist. High cheekbones that light tufts of fur seemed to grow from. Extended sideburns, maybe. His crooked nose that faded into one not unlike a dog. Or a bear. Layered horns that curled and curved, reflecting the flame of the candlelight. They could do for a good polish, but then again, he probably couldn't even see them in his peripheral.

His ears that drooped like a cow's, and were velvet to the touch. Light pink tinged insides, also incredibly soft. And seemingly listening to the scratch of her quill against the page, as they twitched with her every stroke. Small ivory fangs protruded from his lower lip, giving the illusion of tusks. Watching him struggle to sip soup from a bowl with those in the way, she almost didn't blame him for not enjoying soup as she did. It was a battle in itself. A soup bowl versus a Beast's hunger.

His eyes were last.

Even under the dim candlelight, she almost wished she had watercolors to depict them, as they were the brightest blue she'd ever witnessed. Whether it a perk of his species or just his luck of the draw, his eyes were extremely dizzying. While she could pick out the animals he seemingly was an amalgamation of, his eyes were distinctly not like the rest. Every part of him was monstrous, animalistic. But his eyes... His eyes were human.

They darkened like men's. They softened like rain. In rare moments, like the night on the balcony, they lit like a flame. And she could swear she felt herself burning then.

As they flickered up to look at her now, she felt that burning once more- but of embarrassment. She'd been caught.

"Did you say something?" He asked, his lower fangs forcing a lisp.

Belle set her quill down. "No, I just-" Find an excuse, Belle!

"You have soup on your chin..."

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, an improvement from their first meals, Beast's brows furrowed as he cleaned himself up. He hadn't been paying attention to what she'd been doing at the table, too distracted by his thoughts of the winter to come. And the events that would inevitably follow.

"Writing?" He assumed. "At this point, you might as well write a novel. Perhaps when you return home, you could sell the tale of the beautiful woman trapped in an enchanted castle by a hideous monster. It'd make a great play."

Belle sighed. He always found a way to compliment her, even if he didn't intend to. Snarkily, she returned his comment.

"Perhaps I will. I'll call it 'The Tale of The Beauty and The Beast'."

Beast scrunched his nose in disgust.

"What? You don't like the title?"

"Not particularly."

"And why is that?"

He huffed. "It implies that it is also the Beast's story. Which it isn't."

Belle was taken aback by his comment, blinking in confusion.

"It most certainly is both Beauty and the Beast's story."

The young woman had tried countless times to get any answers from the Beast. The most she knew about his past was that his father was unkind to him. And only by putting pieces together, she could only guess that he was the reason for the aged scars on his back.

"Perhaps it would feel also of his if I knew more of it to begin with."

Suddenly, they were no longer arguing in metaphors. Beast's ears drooped, though his eyes remained stern and stubborn in his decision. He saw himself as the villain in her story, and she saw him as an unlikely friend. Someone else, she realized, was just as trapped in this castle as she was.

"Please." She coaxed. "There is so little I know about you."

Beast stood to leave, to which Belle stood and followed.

"That is for the best." He grumbled.

The young woman reached forward and pulled on his arm, facing him toward her. Surprisingly, he didn't resist, and let the soft touch speak for itself.

"You say the curse will cause me to forget once I leave here. Once everything is done, and I leave and forget, will it matter what you've said?"

Using his own logic against him. He knew this, yet he couldn't deny her an answer. Something for her to chew on to keep her busy. Sighing in complacency, he turned and continued walking out of the dining room and into the lounge, where a fireplace had just been lit.

"Fine."

Beast began to describe his mother, the only happy memory he had. The only one he dared to share. She had soft blue eyes and freckles upon her cheeks. Brunette hair, lighter than Belle's, always curled. He had her eyes, he'd said. And maybe that was why his father hated him so much once she passed.

But as a boy, she'd read to him. In a grand library, where shelves spanned floor to ceiling with every type of books one could imagine. She'd read historical things, religious texts, even mythological tales. The memories were hazy, but he swore some days he could still smell her. As if she were still around.

Belle had guessed that he'd been raised in the castle, long after the monarchs in the scattered paintings and statues had passed. He'd once introduced himself as the Lord of the castle. And perhaps that wasn't too far off. It was a grander estate than she imagined a Lord could acquire, but who was she to question the logistics of a lifestyle she'd never seen?

"And the library?" She asked, completely captivated by Beast's storytelling.

"It's been sealed off. Once I am gone, it is yours."

How morbid. Frankly, the casual way in which he spoke of his dwindling mortality horrified her. As if he had no hope in breaking the curse at all. If not for himself, then for the rest of the household.

"You mustn't assume-" She mumbled. Beast had warned her before not to ask of the spell, or it's workings. But as each day passed, as more petals fell, the more impatient she became. "It's just that... I don't know. There could be books in there, detailing the ways of this spell and how to break it. Right?"

"Belle..."

"I'm sure there's something. There has to be- even in fiction! Every spell can be broken, it's just about finding the correct-"

"Belle, don't."

The Beast began to grow frustrated. As was Belle.

"Why don't you care? What is stopping you from trying? Why have you given up? Don't you want to be-" Human?

"Of course I do!" The Beast roared, standing from his chair and towering over the young woman. "Of course... I do..."

Self soothing and taking slower breaths, Belle watched as the Beast calmed himself. Instead of lashing out and running away like she expected him to, he was facing his complex emotions head on. With her.

Before her very eyes, he'd changed. From a monster prone to tempered anger, to a man trying to change.

In the echoes of the firelight, the colors danced across his cheeks, accentuating his facial scars further than she typically saw in the daylight. These were older, like the ones on his back, though there were newer ones added to his collection by the thanks of the wolves.

That's all he was, she thought. A dog, beaten and backed into a corner. No wonder he bit when anyone ever got close. The one person he felt safe with, died. And left him to the hands of a father who despised him.

Carefully, cautiously, Belle rose to meet his line of sight. Though a head and a half in height difference, they saw each other plainly.

His heart pounded, and he prayed she couldn't hear it through his chest. Of course he wished to be human again. Of course he wished the spell to be broken, for all the people he'd harmed to be set free, for their wishes to come true. But most of all, the spell being broken meant that he would be loved.

And as Belle brought her hand to his cheek, he realized that's what he wanted most of all.

Chapter Text

Belle's hand lingered on his cheek for much too long. But The Beast didn't dare pull away. Not when he silently wished for her to always hold him like this, to look at him the way she did now. It was a gentle touch he wished to always remember, though he knew the memory would eventually fade. Memories, he could keep until the spell was broken.

But any memories she made, they both knew, would be gone forever.

It was unclear that once the last petal fell, if Belle would really forget everything she'd experienced in the castle. If for some reason she decided to remain in the castle a time before returning back to her village, to her father, would she remember the people she'd met? The Beast that she held so delicately now?

Or would she wake in a strange world, one that held the footprints in the dusty floors of the very shoes she wore? Would she find things here and there that felt familiar, but never be able to place where she knew them from?

And the letters she wrote to her father- Would they become the writings of a madwoman, held captive in a palace by a Lord that didn't exist?

Belle wondered all of this, and her gentle touch on Beast's face became tighter. With both hands now, she held onto him. He watched her in awe as her hands dove into the soft fur on his cheeks. Her fingertips grazed over his aged scars, and her eyes flicked from keeping his gaze to directly looking at them. They were ridged, but not from something natural like a rock or an accident. Yet they weren't exact, like from a blade.

She'd bandaged her father's working wounds enough to know that these were from metal. Curved and deep. Maybe from-

"My father's rings." He whispered, his eyes closing.

Hair, whether is be fur or beard, didn't grow from these markings. They were much older than most she'd seen on him, and lighter too. He hadn't let her look too closely at his back, but she assumed there would be some there that matched in time.

Belle's brows were furrowed, having no choice but to imagine a father striking his child. Beast might've argued that he'd deserved it, if she asked, But she knew a part of him didn't really believe that. He may have believed that the curse was his fault, his sentence. But for his father to hate him so, and in his words, for the crime of sharing his mother's eyes, that was not something he could control.

Not something he deserved such violence for.

"Beast..." She started to coo, before he sighed and spoke in the most gentle voice she'd heard from him.

"Don't feel pity for me, please."

She opened her eyes back up to see him staring at her, his own brow curled in waiting. Those blue eyes that sparkled like she'd never seen, yet somehow so familiar to her. They took her back to the jewels she'd found in his mother's suite, then to the stars she'd wished upon her first night in the castle.

Then to the unpainted statue she'd discovered in the storage room. That same, pained sadness that she wished to understand then.

She understood plenty now.

"I don't." Belle whispered as she pet his cheek, holding his jaw with her entire hand.

"I feel sorrow for the boy you were. His sadness is one that no one should ever have to feel. And I am sorry that he was ever made to feel responsible for what happened to him."

For once, Beast didn't argue. He didn't understand why, as his instincts were to always fight or run away when she got close. But now, he fawned and fell into her touch. As if he craved it, as if he had no other choice but to accept her care. Even as her hand moved down to his chest, and buried itself in the curls that sat just above his pecs. Even as she stepped closer, and pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart as it thumped faster and faster.

"He's in here. I know he is."

In this odd embrace, with one hand on his chest and the other around his middle, Belle closed her eyes and imagined the man Beast might've become. The one he buried down so deep, he'd forgotten entirely. Not a Beast, but the Lord of this castle. The one who instructed his servants to prepare meals for her, whether she ate or not. The one who'd sent her letters to her father, so that he may not worry so much as to where she was and if she were alive. The one who silently delivered crates of new books for her to pour into when boredom was at her door. The one who'd fashioned glasses that fit her just right, so that she may see the village she missed so much from her window.

The one who, after a single night of forced captivity, chose to ultimately let her go. To give her the choice to be free. That gentlemanly Lord was still in there, she knew. But he was less a Lord to her now, but a price of a fellow (as Mrs. Potts had once called him).

Though his fangs were sharp and his claws once frightening, Belle believed with every part of her that The Beast was just as deserving as freedom as she was. And had vowed to give it to him, however she could.

She'd break the spell, she knew. She had to.

The Beast's once stationary arms lifted, and even to his own surprise, he started to reciprocate her embrace. But then soon stopped himself. These claws could hurt her. And what if she pulled away? Decided she didn't want to hold him any more? The rejection somehow seemed worse. This body, this creature, was not meant for soft things like embraces. And his muscles tensed as he found himself lost on how to respond.

Belle looked up, curiously. His heart was racing, and she wondered if she'd done something wrong.

"What is it?"

"I do not wish to hurt you."

Belle stepped back and her brow furrowed.

"I know this. You tell me all the time."

Beast looked at his claws and held them close to his body, insecure and afraid of the damage he could do. The damage he'd done.

"You won't hurt me."

"How do you know?"

"Because it is you who commands them."

She gestured to his paws, and took a breath.

"Here, command them to hold my hands."

He shook his head and began to argue, but the young woman cut him off.

"Please, Beast."

With a slow start and an anxious mind, he slowly outstretched his paws to meet her hands. They were soft, but not of never knowing work. Where they were once calloused, now were doused with the gentlest of hand creams and oil. His thumbs lifted to cover hers, softly rubbing against her skin.

"See? I feel their strength, their power. But they do as you command. And you tell them to be gentle, to be soft."

Belle's hands met with his roughened paws. While his fur was often matted and tangled, the fur on his paws was curled, like the hair around his face. His skin was leathery, and toughened, and held sweat between the lines of his palms. On some of his fingers, an indent had been made right where his fingers and hand met- as if they'd grown around where a ring should be. She wondered if he'd once worn a signet ring, one of jewels or one with the symbol of his household, used to seal the wax of letters. Surely, a ring wouldn't fit now. But she guessed he once wore one handsomely.

His eyes swiftly moved from their joined hands to her eyes, and he exhaled, relieved.

"I... I never knew they could be this gentle."

She beamed, seeing the hint of his smile begin to spread across his cheeks.

"Thank you for showing me this-" He began to speak, then retreat as his paws released and returned to his side, until he was interrupted once more by the young woman's confidence.

"Hold me."

She stood plainly, waiting for him to obey. And his head dizzied once more, swimming with thoughts he thought he'd surely forgotten in his younger years. A woman such as herself, asking- no, demanding plain and simple for a creature such as him to hold her. With the same gentle touch they'd just shared.

How could he refuse her?

He'd wanted nothing more than this in the cold of night where he was left on his lonesome, staring at the object of his imprisonment. Wishing for nothing but the soft companionship that he believed he was once promised by the Gods themselves. For not just Belle, but for anyone to see him as something other than what he was. To grant him the forgiveness that he so begged to deserve.

And here she was.

He couldn't have known that this was one of the first moments he began to feel anything more for her than friendship, though it was not unlike that night in the rain. Where his heart pounded and his gut ached and his heart yearned for something more than he could ever ask for.

Where her eyes begged, his body obeyed. His legs stepping forward, his arms reaching out, and his heart letting her in. And before he could stop it, he had embraced her, holding her close to his chest, his neck craning and head resting above her shoulder. He felt her arms reach around him, barely stretching around his middle. Though his waist was small, his hips and shoulders were curved, and practically swallowed her form as they collided.

From here, he could hear her heartbeat speed up significantly, and though he started to pull away, she held onto him firmer.

"Am I hurting you?" He whispered.

"No, Beast."

"Then, are you afraid?"

"Not at all."

This was a lie, as she was much afraid. Not of him, but of the feelings that just began to surface. She knew without proof that he could be gentle, that he wouldn't hurt her. There was no question about it. But what she couldn't have known was how his gentility, how the softer parts of him would make her crave more. How she found his teasing and taunting endearing, and how she enjoyed their time together- when he wasn't being obnoxiously stubborn.

She feared how much she thought of him when he wasn't around. Of how sweet his lisp was, how even if he could never get it right, he still pulled her chair for her in the dining room. The little things he did when he thought she wasn't looking, she found them thoughtful. She thought him thoughtful. And kind. And even at times, when his hair was pulled back and his collar undone, she thought him handsome.

And now, as she buried herself in his chest and pulled him closer, she found herself feeling safe in his arms. Safe, comfortable, and happy. Something she'd never thought she'd be, in the arms of The Beast.

Chapter Text

Though only the sconces on the walls had been privy to the sight of Belle and Beast's tender embrace, the castle quickly became buzzing with excitement. As if something had started between them. Something between them was there that had not been there before.

But it wasn't perfect. Nothing ever was. The unlikely friends still carried out their spats at dinnertime, or over touchy subjects that Beast undoubtedly often avoided. Belle was one to push his buttons, and she knew with this tender friendship between them now solidified, she was granted privileges to answers she wasn't privy to before.

Of course, Beast still had his limits.

"I just don't understand." Belle huffed, sinking into her seat by the vanity. The velvet lined chair hit the bare of her legs as she'd just dried off from her bath and Madame was beginning to fit her for a new winter wardrobe.

Babette, a ladies' maid who had an eye for design and color to rival Madame herself, stood behind Belle and began to dry and brush out her hair. Her hands were made of bronze, while seemingly modeled like a parisian decorative featherduster. Her hair was made of pure white feathers, while the rest of her was crafted of gold and bronze filiigree. Babette and Madame together were quite the pair, though Madame was mischevously quiet as she perfected her designs.

Since her first day in the castle, Madame had ached to design an entire line of dresses, gowns, coats, and anything she could for Belle to wear. And now, their guest had finally given her the go-ahead for a line of winterwear.

In a common, thicker parisian accent, Babette replied and frowned.

"You mean about... you-know-who?"

Belle adjusted her posture and pouted.

"I don't understand why he won't just talk to me. I thought we had a nice understanding of each other, but every time I press further, I just seem to push him away."

Babette clicked her tongue and continued brushing out the drying curls in Belle's dark chestnut hair.

"Before you came 'round, no one could really talk with him like you do. Much less get anything other than, hm, a growl and a roar?"

"How long has he been like this?"

The ladies' maid frowned.

"I know, I know. We can't talk about it. I just wish he'd put his pride aside and open up to me. I mean, really open up. Then maybe I could find a way to... I don't know."

"While we may be only a part of it, it is his story to tell."

Belle reached for the end of her hair as it fell just below her breasts, and began twirling it in her fingers, thinking deeply about her friendship with the Beast. It troubled her greatly, how quickly time was running out for him and the entire castle. And thought it was a selfish thought, she worried of what little time she had left with her newfound friends. If she would forget them over time, if the world would forget in turn.

And though she hadn't seen her since, she worried of the woman who had threatened her in her dream some weeks ago. She'd chalked it up to a foolish nightmare, her subconscious sabotaging her. But it had left a taste in her mouth that she couldn't shake, adding to the lingering threat of losing her friends, and losing the Beast.

"I'm sure you will find a way to reach him, miss. In some ways, you already have."

Belle sighed.

"I have to. For all of you."

-----------

Beast stood at the foot of his bed, freshly made with clean sheets and pillows fluffed, looking puzzled as he stared at the garments laid out before him.

The styles were intricate and decorated, the way he preferred, but there was only one problem. The designs were littered with color. For even as a man, he dressed himself in darker shades of grey, black, and occasionally red. But Madame Delile clearly had another vision for his winter wear. Sure, he didn't technically need a new wardrobe, seeing as the fur that had thickened over his body kept him plenty warm.

But to impress Belle, and to perhaps brighten his otherwise moody exterior, Madame had chosen brighter shades of every color imaginable. And when Beast had seen the rolls of fabric arrive in their monthly shipments, he hadn't questioned who they'd be for.

Only now as he stared at a bright yellowish gold overcoat and matching, high-waisted trousers, he could only sigh of embarrassment.

It wasn't all unusable. There was an odd shade of purple in a similar style as the gold that caught his eye. And he guessed some of the garments were purposefully to match Belle's new sets. If this is what it took to look... presentable...

The Beast began fussing with detailed lacing and the tiniest of clasps, only to find trousers that fit too tight over his fur, and a coat he'd laced completely upside down.

Lumiere had walked in carrying a tray of tea, and nearly spilt and melted himself seeing his highness in such a state. Stifling his laughs, he quickly set the tray to the side and approached his employer.

"Trying a new look, are we?"

Beast growled lowly and put his face in his hands. With an abundance of satin lacing wrapped around his horns, he looked more like freshly caught game rather than a deliciously dressed noble.

Of course, as per Belle's snide instruction, Lumiere didn't immediately untangle his master until he asked for it- Lingering and waiting until the Beast put aside his assumptions of assistance and huffed.

"...Help."

Chuckling, Lumiere stepped forward and began unwrapping the Beast from the prison of lacing he'd stuck himself in.

Once he was freed of his imprisonment, and garments were done upright, the servant stepped back and admired his work. For such a ghastly shade of purple when laid out, it actually complimented his skin tone quite well. It seemed to bring out the auburn shades of his hair further, too.

The coat was cropped, though it trailed long tails behind. Lacing stemmed from between the shoulders all the way down the coattails, and again up the sides of the crop. Adjustable sizing, both decorative and functional.

His undershirt was a creme with small flowers printed in similar shades of violet. It had a low cut, but had silver buttons along the open front.

The trousers were of the same fabric as the jacket, and Lumiere quickly realized the ingenius of all the excessive lacing. It was not to restrict the Beast's size, but rather to accommodate. These clothes were multi-purposeful. They weren't wool lined, like Belle's most likely were. But mostly for aesthetics. To present his highness as a gentleman, he needed to dress accordingly.

And these garments would do exactly that, and were able to accommodate for his winter coat, then lack thereof in springtime.

If they would make it to Spring.

Lumiere brushed back the Beast's auburn waves into a stylish ponytail as best he could, and carefully using a blade, he trimmed his beard to look more purposeful. Framing his face and strong features, rather than hiding him behind a curled mess of a mane.

"There." The servant sighed, admiring his handiwork once more.

"You look... exquisitely regal, sire."

Beast avoided mirrors at all costs, which most of the staff knew. Yet still, Lumiere held a small one in hand, just in case. He watched as Beast's eyes glanced at it, then hesitated. The loyal servant knew not to push him, but still set it face down on the desk in case his employer changed his mind.

"Lunch should be finished soon. Mademoiselle requested sugar-crusted and honey glazed ham. Shall I fetch you once its ready?"

"No. I'll... I'll be down shortly."

"Excellent, sire."

With not two steps, Lumiere had waltzed out and shut the doors behind him. And with his heart in his throat, the pound of his anxiety waiting for a beat to drop, the Beast slowly reached for the mirror. He took his time, the pads of his fingers tracing the gilded edges of the object, before raising it to eye level.

A single breath, and then, he looked up at himself. For possibly the first time in years, Beast truly studied his outward appearance. He tried to keep in the forefront of his mind the images of Belle, laughing and smiling with him on their garden outings, or the evenings spent in the dining room. How she didn't flinch. How she didn't wince every time he looked her way.

This was the creature she aimed to spend quality time with. This was the man she ached to know the secrets of. What he saw was a monstrous mistake of a being- and he wished deeply to see himself the way she saw him.

As someone worth knowing.