'Right,' Belle slammed the book shut and stood up. 'I think that's all we need. Let's go and find him!' Her chin was set. If it came down to a pure battle of wills, Maurice was fairly certain the Prince would lose. Her mother had had that look, too.

Gaston set down his own book on the table and stretched, looking reasonably revived. 'So we're going to find him and you're going to tell him about a book,' he said with disbelief.

'Yes.' Belle looked around the room longingly for a final time. Row upon row of books stretched around them and above them. She tucked one of the books under her arm. 'I'll just take this. The rest I know now. Are you both coming?'

Maurice nodded and stood up. 'We should put out the fire if we're not coming back. I'll just give Monsieur Lumière a call…'

'Don't bother.' Gaston stamped heavily on the fire with a booted foot leaving it smoldering into smoky ashes that made them cough. 'Alright, let's go now.'

The first obstacle they encountered was one, Maurice realized, they should have foreseen. The Prince had closed and barred the door to the West Wing, probably barricading it with furniture. Even Gaston and the heavily built Madame Le Garderobe working together couldn't shoulder it open despite denting the wood with their blows. From behind the doors, they heard a muffled growl.

'There is another way in,' a doleful voice from behind them said. 'If you think it's possible.' Monsieur Cogsworth pointed them towards another flight of stairs. 'It's definitely dangerous, though,' he told them. 'You can climb down from the balcony above if you dare. But it probably won't do any good,' he sighed. 'He'll never agree to come out.'

They trekked along the corridor towards the higher balcony. It was obviously another part of the castle which had suffered some damage and, like most of the castle, freezing cold. Maurice shivered. Furniture, finer than any he had seen even in his better days as a Parisian merchant, was cast aside through the corridor, flung in careless heaps as if victims of a terrible rage.

Gaston surveyed the corridor grimly. 'If he causes any trouble, I'll have his head for the tavern wall,' he promised. He strode forward.

No!' Belle sounded horrified, hurrying to catch up with him. 'You can't do that. He's a person! Besides, he's not as bad as you think.'

'Ah, Belle.' Gaston sighed. 'You have such a sweet nature. So gentle. So truly feminine.' He stumbled and nearly fell over.

'Maybe you should spend a bit less time admiring my personality and a bit more watching out where we're going,' Belle said. Relenting, she fell back a pace and laid her hand on his arm, looking up at him. 'But it's good to rescue people. Haven't you ever rescued anyone? I'm sure you have.'

'Why, of course. Did you know I once rescued five horses and men from drowning in a river? The river was raging but I jumped in without a thought for my life, grabbed each one by the reins and led them out up the bank. No-one could believe it,' he told them without a scrap of modesty.

'That's wonderful,' she said. 'Um, I'm glad you rescued them but…shouldn't you try and tell the story another way,' she suggested gently. 'You know, something like, "I was very lucky and my friends helped me from the bank?"'

'A man's a fool if he runs himself down for no reason. There's enough people in the world ready to do that.'

'I'm sorry but it….sounds like boasting.' She glanced up at him.

'It's not boasting if it's true.' He climbed over an overturned table and helped her up, glancing behind to make sure Maurice could scramble over it. 'It's only boasting if you can't back it up. If a thing's true -' he kicked a stool aside, '- then it would be lying to say anything else.'

'Well, yes.' She frowned. 'I see what you mean. I understand. I just think there's a line we have to tread sometimes. If everyone did that, it…wouldn't be easy to see who was honest, would it?'

'You can trust me to be honest, Belle.'

'Even when you're telling me how wonderful you are?'

'Especially when I'm telling you how wonderful I am. It's all true.'

This roused her spirit. 'Alright then,' she threw a challenge at him, eyes sparkling as she met the test. 'Tell me another time when you helped someone. It's nice to hear about people helping other people,' she said.

'There's so much to choose from.' He studied the ceiling for a moment. 'St Martin. I saved the people from a vicious boar who was ravening the forests and killed their best hunter.' The tale kept them occupied for the rest of their walk. Watching from behind, Maurice was amused as much by Gaston's ability as a story teller as the story itself. He really couldn't talk without using his hands. Having Belle's hand on his arm hindered him as he ducked, dodged and gestured expressively but he didn't let go. Belle did roll her eyes a little, Maurice saw, but her whole face was alight with interest and a few times she laughed aloud or gasped.

When they reached the balcony, Gaston demonstrated another of his skills. Taking the long rope Madame Le Garderobe had obligingly provided them with, he expertly knotted one end around the stonework, leaned his weight back against it to test it and flung the other end off the balcony.

'I'll go first,' he offered.

'No, let me,' Maurice protested. 'He's seen me before.' Turning around, they saw Belle disappearing down the rope, having ignored both of them.

'Belle!' Gaston grabbed the rope and vaulted off the balcony.

When Maurice made his way more cautiously down the rope he saw the other two staring transfixed at a rose which impossibly hovered on thin air inside a delicate glass cover. It glowed scarlet against the darkness of the night.

'It's the rose!' Belle whispered unnecessarily. 'We're almost there!' She choked back a cry as the Beast loomed up from out of the shadows, teeth bared in a snarl.

'Get away from it!' he snapped and glared fiercely at them. 'More trespassers, I see,' he added eyeing Gaston as they took a few paces away. 'Didn't I tell you never to come here again?'

'I'm not here for you,' Gaston snapped back, rubbing his chest as if it pained him.

The Beast stared at him in incomprehension. 'Then why are you here?'

'For everyone else, of course,' Belle stepped in. 'He likes helping people,' she added in the face of the Gaston's scowl.

'Everyone else?' The Beast tilted his head and stared at her. 'What are you talking about?'

'All the other people who are here,' she said firmly. 'We've spent at least an hour at the bottom of a well.'

The Beast blinked uncertainly at the apparent non sequitur, completely taken aback. 'Why?'

'To get a little girl out. She's been down there for years,' she said. 'Can you image what that was like for her?' She rounded on him, half his height but suddenly twice his determination. 'Why didn't you do anything?'

'Me?' The Beast retreated a pace.

'Yes, you. You've got arms and legs, haven't you? I think you should apologize to her when you see her. Her name's Marie and she's currently a bucket.'

'I'm sorry,' he rumbled. 'I didn't know…'

'You should have known,' she said inexorably. 'You should have made it your business to know where everyone was. You're responsible for people, aren't you?' She waited. 'Well, aren't you?'

'Yes…' he admitted uncertainly.

'Well, come and prove it! Everyone's waiting out there for you to come out so they can be human again.'

'The witch's trick,' he snarled and turned away impatiently. 'So she's still waiting to do more harm to us? I told you before, I will not trust her with our lives,' he roared, swiping at the air with his claws.

'Are you afraid?' she asked seriously.

'Afraid?' He towered over her. Gaston took a step sideways in front of her to block him but Belle dodged around him and stood toe to toe with the Beast. She looked fearless. Only Maurice, knowing her better than any others, saw how well she hid her fright. There was a tinge of paleness in her face and the flutter of her throat betrayed a racing pulse.

'You can't be afraid of her,' she told him. 'You have to try this. You have responsibilities to live up to. Everyone else wants to try and it's all or nothing, sorry. You have to do this for them. They have friends and families!'

'Let them go to her, then. Surely she'll turn them back if she's as merciful as you think. Let their friends and families beg her to spare them. I have no-one. I'm a Beast and nothing more. You know nothing of me. My name has been forgotten.' His voice shook and he turned away, hunching his great shoulders.

'Your name is Adam,' Belle told him.

'What?'

'Adam, Prince of Altmontagne-sur-Vironde, Comte de la Rèmoille, Marquis de Chartreville et Meuille, Vicomte de Lereigne-Lillebonne, Seigneur de de Centîlle, Chatelaine de Villeneuve et de Placevielle. This castle was first built in nearly six hundred years ago with money given to your ancestor, Charles de Centîlle as a reward for faithful service. Your father was Prince Henri, his father was Prince Louis, his father was Prince Louis, his father was Prince Claude…

He held up a hand gently to stop her. 'You know,' he whispered, staring at her. 'You know somehow. Can it be true? These things aren't forgotten?'

'It's in the record books in your library.' She held the book she was carrying out to him. 'Here, take it and see. The spell might have made everyone forgot your name but it's written here at the end. She turned the pages again, 'and at the beginning. Look, someone wrote your name in pencil to show it was yours. Did you do it?'

The Prince took the book gently, cradling it in his huge paws. He bent over the inscription on the flyleaf. 'No,' he said hoarsely. 'No. This was…my mother's writing. I recognize it. She gave me this.' A tear rolled down his fur and he reached up hastily to brush it away before it could fall on the treasured book. He looked down on her with a gratitude in his eyes that they hadn't seen before. 'I haven't seen this for a long time. You couldn't have brought anything which meant more to me.' He closed the cover carefully, caressing it with a paw.

'I'm sure you have friends and family too,' Belle said softly. 'Why don't we go out? If she lifts the spell, you can go and see them again.'

'My family are dead,' he said bitterly. 'As for my friends….they were friends only with my money.' He buried his face in his paws. 'I'm afraid I wasn't much of a true friend to them either,' he confessed.

'You don't know that,' she said. 'Everyone can make mistakes. You know the spell stops them from remembering you. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you again. And this time you can show them what you're really like.'

He lifted his head. 'Do you really think so?'

'I'm sure they will! And you'll be able to see all the people who work here again properly. I think you must have known some of them for years. Mrs. Potts -' she broke off.

'I beg your pardon?' he said. 'Mrs. Potts….?'

'Well, she said you were always stubborn,' she admitted. 'In a good way, I'm sure. I mean, I'm stubborn, I think, wouldn't you say so, Papa?' And Gaston is too.' She turned and gave him a quick smile. 'Which is good for rescuing people.'

'Call it determined,' Gaston put in. He shifted his weight impatiently from foot to foot.

'Determined, then,' Belle agreed. 'It's a good thing. What I meant was that that you must have known some people here for years,' she said earnestly. 'You won't be alone.'

He shook his horned head, monstrous shadows swaying on the walls. 'How much loyalty do you think they have toward the man who caused them to be cursed? How long do you think they'll stay?' He grimaced. 'One way or another, I will be alone.'

'Is that an argument against breaking the curse? That you won't have people trapped in your castle with you? You can't mean that,' she implored him.

The Prince looked aghast. 'No. No, I'm not quite so selfish. I will be alone, though,' he sighed. 'How could anyone look up to me after seeing me as this?' He hesitated, took a step towards the rose and stood looking at it in silence for a few moments. 'I'll do it,' he agreed. 'But I wish I had broken it by my own efforts.' He squared his shoulders and lifted the rose inside its delicate glass dome. 'I'll bring it to her,' he said.

They turned and surveyed the corridor. The doorway to the main halls was barricaded with furniture. 'Oh.' He tried to set the rose back down and the table shuffled away. Maurice and Gaston exchanged looks.

Belle tilted her head to one side and regarded the table. 'Are you human? If you are, you'd better follow us when we leave.' She turned to the Prince. 'Can you give it to my father to hold? We'll help you move the furniture.'

'I'll trust you with it,' the Prince said reluctantly. He carefully passed it to her. 'I'll move all of this by myself.' He tugged at a piled up heap of chairs until the wood creaked and cracked. 'Consider it my penance.'

'Let me help,' Maurice took the chairs and shifted them to the side, working with the Prince to clear the heap. 'It's very high,' he said mildly. Under the pressure of his example, Gaston joined them. Together they pulled at the heap of tables and chairs which blocked the door.

As they worked, the Prince stole sidelong looks at Maurice out of thoroughly human blue eyes. Eventually, he came out with it. 'I believe I owe you an apology,' he confessed. 'For my earlier behavior.'

'Think nothing of it,' Maurice assured him. 'If we can succeed in saving everyone here, all of this will have been well worth it.' He was anxious to get the Prince away from the topic. He still hadn't told Gaston the truth about his original captivity and this didn't seem like the best moment.

'But I was a beast!'

'You still are,' Gaston reminded him, wedging a foot under a small table and levering it loose. The table came crashing down the heap. Belle stood well back, cradling the rose.

'It's true,' he agreed sadly. 'I still am. But not, I hope, the beast I was before.'

By the time the barricade was cleared, all three men were sweating slightly. The Prince flung open the doors to reveal a hall full of servants. As they stepped through, the servants gave a deafening cheer. The Prince flushed a fiery red through his fur, eyes downcast.

The next half hour passed in a frenzy of activity, counting and aching muscles. The chef was wheeled out of the castle and down the causeway on logs with the stronger men - which by default were the two heavy gargoyles, the Beast and Gaston - carrying them from front to back to make a rolling track. The senior servants counted and recounted heads as they processed out of the castle. Tables and chairs bounced and skittered down the steps to be caught and set upright by those with hands. Marie, the little bucket, was swinging merrily on the arms of a coatrack. The castle emptied of living beings. At the last minute, somebody remembered the stables and more hands were needed to haul out the heavy carriages which were once grooms, stable boys and horses. A little footstool ran amongst them, barking in excitement.

As they neared the gate, the roses twining up it flexed, took hold of the wrought ironwork and stretched the gates apart. Maurice handed the rose back to the Prince. Alone, ahead of the crowd of servants, he walked through the gate. On the other side Agathe stood waiting. There was no sign of her power. Her clothes were the simple brown homespun she habitually wore on the streets of Villeneuve. Holding the rose in both hands, the Prince walked up to her. He knelt before her and bowed his head stiffly, pride fighting against a natural gentility that lent him graciousness in defeat.

'Madame.' He held up the rose towards her. 'I have come to ask forgiveness for my behavior towards you.' He lowered his eyes. 'I was justly punished for my pride and arrogance. I come to…to beg of you to restore us to their natural forms. I swear to you that no man, woman or child who comes to me will be turned away again.'

'I set you to learn true love. In nearly ten years, you failed to do that.'

'That is true,' he acknowledged sadly. 'I didn't find true love. Instead, I learned sadness and repentance. For the sake of these things, would you undo the curse on us?'

She studied him with eyes as old as starlight. 'I, too, learned a lesson in unasked kindness. Yes, I will restore you and your people.' She fixed him with a piercing stare. 'But there is a price to be paid. You did not truly earn this forgiveness by my terms and the work done tonight has not been by your hands. Are you willing to cast away all that remains of your pride and arrogance? To be truly humble for the rest of your life?'

'Yes! I promise you I will,' he said earnestly. 'My pride has only ever brought harm.'

She reached down and lifted the glass cover from the rose. Taking the rose into her hands, she whispered to it gently. Around her hands a golden glow grew and spread. Tiny sparkling flecks of gold blew out as she breathed words to the rose, drifting on the night air. They fell on the fur of the Prince, giving him a golden coat. They glittered in the air and drifted onto the crowd of servants gathered around him. Those with hands reached up, mesmerized by the sparks that fell like gold dust onto them. Others raised their eyes, tilting their sides to allow the delicate flakes to fall onto them. When the air was shimmering with a golden haze, she spoke one final word. Inside the haze, bodies stretched or shrunk, twisted and straightened, stumbled against each other and cried out at the wonder of feeling a human hand again. As the golden glow dissipated, men, women, children, dogs and horses stood up straight again, crying with joy. Amongst them, closest to the rose, a young, golden haired man rose to his feet, stunned with disbelief, staring down at human hands with fading doubt and growing delight.

Agathe stepped back a pace into the shadow of the trees, smiling an enigmatic smile at the jubilant crowd. Maurice was beaming from ear to ear. He glanced sideways. Belle was glowing with delight, eyes sparkling with happiness. Beside her, Gaston was squinting at them in amazement and disbelief, one hand running through his hair, his distrust of sorcery still apparent. Maurice looked back at the crowd. It was wonderful, truly wonderful! There was Mrs. Potts, clasping her children to her so tightly they could hardly breathe, that neatly dressed man there must be Monsieur Cogsworth with the bushy moustache, little Marie had been in the centre of the crowd so that must be - yes, there was a little girl, being set down carefully on the ground by a tall, thin individual. Lumière must be the debonair man with a familiar twinkle in his eye embracing not only Cogsworth but also an astoundingly beautiful lady all dressed in white. All around them, men, women and children were clasping each other in their arms, kissing each other on both cheeks, laughing and crying. A few were simply standing there, overwhelmed, running hands over their faces to reassure themselves before others caught their hands and pulled them into a hug. Some made their way up to the prince to kiss his hand and congratulate him on their freedom from the curse. A little dog ran about their heels, yapping with excitement and horses - beautiful, glossy horses in perfect condition - tossed their manes and neighed to their new friends. In the middle of laughter and shouts of joy, the first noises went unheard. It was only when a man at the back of the crowd looked around and suddenly yelled out in terror that they saw it. The castle was cracking and crumbling as they watched.

Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate them.

The titles in this chapter are entirely fictional and have no relationship to genuine titles or places.