Belle's head was spinning and it wasn't merely from the dancing. She gazed up into the face of her prince charming, into those eyes. She was drawn to him. She smiled. It was irresistible, those eyes, him, this feeling. As she smiled up at him his smile broadened. He squeezed her hand as they glided past the servants, who had become her friends, at last in human form and past her father, finally safe.

As she smiled her eyes searched the prince's face. In her heart she knew this man and knew that she loved him, but in her head were many questions. The prince, long used to observing Belle's expression from the days when he anxiously sought any sign of her affection, slowed the pace at which he had been leading her across the floor. She held his gaze in hers, continuing to search his eyes for answers. Wordlessly, he slipped his hand from her waist and bowed. She dipped her head, curtsied, and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow as he led her out onto the balcony.

He graciously waited until she sat on the edge of the balcony before he sat himself. She smiled softly, touched at how well-mannered he had become. He edged closer to her, shyly, and took her hands in his. She looked up at him. There was so much he wanted to tell her. She watched him as he looked for the words. As he sat on the balcony with her, her, alive and well and human, he realized he was overwhelmed. Not nearly so much by the curse being broken and the transformation, but by the things he had known for a while but still couldn't believe—how beautiful she was and how much he loved her.

"Belle . . ." he began, "I hope now that you're back you'll consider staying here with me as mistress of this castle".

She smiled at him. She had come back in a hurry with the purpose of intervening, of finding a way to save him. She hadn't thought beyond that, of staying or of not staying. However, as she sat with him she could hardly think of leaving, not after everything, not now.

Encouraged by her expression the prince continued. He was nervous, she had a way of making him nervous, "I also hope you'll consider . . . being my wife".

She had been leaning in towards him but straightened a little, surprised. There was that word. Wife. She looked away from him and over the trees that stretched out beneath them. His eyebrows creased slightly, concerned at her reaction. He cursed himself inwardly. He should have waited. Gotten a ring. Proposed properly, down on one knee. Been more chivalrous. He was human, handsome, but not quite princely yet, much to his embarrassment.

"Marriage. . ." she murmured, still looking away from him and over the balcony out towards the horizon.

"You've been asked this before," the prince said. Belle pressed her lips together and looked down.

"Yes," she answered.

"And the idea displeased you?" the prince asked. For him, he had always assumed that if the curse was ever to be broken it would be swiftly followed by marriage. Was there any other way?

"Yes," Belle answered, "It displeased me."

The prince was surprised and unsure of how to respond. He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit. What girl didn't want to fall in love and get married? And be a princess besides? He wanted her to be happy, her happiness was everything to him. He looked her over again, and he realized more fully than ever before that she was no ordinary girl. She was so beautiful in her golden dress, perched just so on the edge of the railing of the balcony, but she was looking down with an expression of . . . wanting. He had seen that expression before.

"Belle," he said gently, "You would be my wife, not my prisoner."

Her expression softened and once again she looked up at him. She felt frustrated with herself. She loved him. He loved her. She had had her adventure. He was clearly in a position to provide a wonderful life for her, and help take care of her papa. So what was it?

"I know," she answered, "It's just that—I've always wanted to be more than just someone's wife."

"You will be." The prince answered. She looked at him warily with an eyebrow raised.

He pulled her hands into his lap. "Perhaps, for the time being, a courtship would be more suitable."

"A courtship . . ." Belle repeated, "Dinner, dancing, long walks? And I'd still stay here? In my room?"

"Whatever you'd like," the prince responded. Belle nodded thoughtfully and shifted closer to him.

"All right then," she said, "A courtship." He smiled at her, so happy to have pleased her. She returned her gaze to his face, his strong features, trying not to be taken in by how handsome he suddenly was. She took one of his hands in both of hers and ran her fingers over it, turning it over in her palms, examining it. He was a long way from the beast who had fought off an entire wolf pack through brute force, but she could tell he was still quite strong. Broad shouldered, heavily muscled, tall. She liked it. Liked that his body was built so powerfully and yet that he handled her so gently. She hated to confess it, even to herself, but she liked strong men. It hadn't been Gaston's appearance that had so put her off, but his personality. His heart, or lack of one. Just as it had been the Beast's heart that won her despite his appearance. She continued considering his hands. The beast.

She looked up at him again. There was that handsome face, that stranger's face with only the eyes familiar to her.

"Who are you?" she asked suddenly, aware that she knew and yet didn't know as she asked it.

The prince sighed, and now it was his turn to look out over the balcony. How to answer that question? Where to begin?

"I'm Adam." he murmured, almost as much to himself as to her.

"Adam . . ." Belle repeated thoughtfully, and he closed his eyes for a moment. It had been so long since he had heard someone call him by his name, and he was so glad it was Belle who was saying it. He opened them and turned to face her.

"You never told me your name." Belle said, in a tone that was slightly teasing.

He continued looking at her, and tried not to focus on her lips. He wanted to be done with lengthy explanations. He wanted to slide his hand around her small waist and pull her close to him. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to marry her and carry her to the West Wing as his wife. For an instant he rolled his eyes internally at the idea of a courtship. Why had he even suggested it? He had never been a particularly patient man. He was madly in love and wanted her now, and enough of talking about the past. He became aware that she was watching him expectantly and sighed. He had been a beast too long to now be a man of many words, but he knew how inquisitive she was, and he knew he owed her an explanation.

"I didn't remember it," he told her.

"You didn't remember it?" Belle asked, astonished.

"No." Adam answered, "I had been a beast for a long time when you arrived. I had forgotten many things."

"Like how to read?" Belle asked. He smiled, he loved how clever she was, how her mind was always working, piecing things together.

"Yes." He answered her.

"And how to dance?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered again, "But dancing and reading I had only learned a little. The servants did what they could to teach me, to prepare me for court life, but I was . . .uncooperative. They also didn't have much time. The curse was cast when I was eleven."

"The curse?" Belle asked.

"One winter's night an old beggar woman came to the castle asking for shelter. I remember now, I remember walking to the door, pushing the servants out of the way, wanting to dispense with whoever it was quickly. I looked at her, standing there in the snow, shivering, holding out a rose to me in exchange for a room for the night. I looked at her and I felt . . ."

"Scared?" Belle supplied.

"Disgusted." The prince corrected, looking Belle in the eye, nearly wanting her to judge him, to pull her hands away from his. He felt the familiar pinch of fear that he was unloveable in his heart.

"Why?" Belle asked.

"She was poor, ugly, had nothing to offer me. I turned the old woman away. She begged, but I could not be moved. Just as I went to slam the door on her, she transformed into a beautiful enchantress. She cursed me, and this castle. Only if I could fall in love and earn that person's love in return would the spell be broken."

"And now the spell is broken." Belle remarked softly.

"And now the spell is broken." Adam answered, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth.

"Belle," he began again, "I wanted to tell you something before . . .I . . .tried to but I could see. . .I couldn't tell you when I knew that you were unhappy."

"What did you want to tell me?" Belle said in a voice barely louder than a whisper, feeling hardly able to speak over the thunderous pounding of her heart in her throat.

"I love you." Adam stated. He had never before said those words to someone. He felt like he had been holding his breath for a very long time and could suddenly breathe again. He was so relieved to tell her. He understood, as he watched the tears cling like drops of dew to Belle's long eye lashes, that love broke the spell because it is stronger than any curse could ever be.

She reached up and placed her palm on the side of his face, gently tracing the arc of his cheekbone with her thumb.

"I thought I was too late," she whispered, "I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm here," he responded. He once again caught the searching look in Belle's eyes as she scanned his face. She looked into those blue eyes of his . . .

"It's me." He reassured her again. She continued to trace her fingers lightly over his skin, tears trembling at the rim of her eyes.

"I love you, Adam." She told him. He reached up and grabbed the hand she had been resting on his face and kissed it. Smiling, fighting tears, he tugged on her arm and pulled her into him. He put his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply.