A quick reference for some French I use:

En garde... prêts... allez - On guard... ready... go; mon preux chevalier - my knight in shining armor; petit chenepan - little rascal

Sitting against the broad, old maple on the edge of the forest, Lumière had managed to find a cut of pine wood from a thicker branch to whittle something small. He had considered making a fleur-de-lis as his former master's father had taught him, but had settled on carving a bird. The symphony of melodies they were singing from their perches had admittedly inspired him.

He was just adding the detail for its eyes with careful precision when he heard Chip say, "Lumière! Catch!"

If the maître d' hadn't looked up when he had, he might've received a bruised nose from the long stick that was tossed to him. Baffled, he glanced from the stick to Chip, and saw the boy had one in his hand similar in length and width. Near perfect sparring size, in fact.

With a stiff back and raised chin, Chip ground his stick into the dirt like a well-trained herald and announced, "On behalf of Mademoiselle Babette, newly crowned queen of the forest…"

At the mention of her title, Babette, who stood a safe distance from the pending fight, did an extravagant curtsey, sweeping her arm up, over, and to her waist like a ballerina before raising her head to reveal a mischievous sparkle in her eye. Lumière had to laugh.

"I have been chosen," Chip continued with prestige, "to fight for her honor against you…" He thrusted his stick to point menacingly. "… Monsieur Lumière."

Lumière looked to Babette as though to say, Are you serious? Babette only batted her long lashes and smiled with an adorable innocence that he knew was far beyond her capacity.

"Do you accept this challenge?" Chip demanded. He tried to remain in-character, but a smile wished to pull at the corners of his mouth anyway.

With a show of contemplation, Lumière set aside his pocket knife and project and got to his feet, weighing the sparring stick in his palm. "If I win," he inquired, "would that mean that I shall have mademoiselle's honor… and all that it entails?" He shot her a discreet smirk full of innuendo, which received an eyeroll from Babette in reply, despite her grin.

"Only if Chip does not win yours for me first," she confirmed, mirroring him in tone. "With all that it entails."

To an expectant Chip, Lumière nodded firmly. "I accept." And to Babette, he asked politely, "Would you do us the honor of counting us in? While you still have your own, that is."

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips at his remark, but that irresistible fire burned in her gaze, a sight he lived to behold. "I am not the one you need to taunt, chéri," she reminded in a husky resonance that verged on dangerous.

Neither of them looked away from their silent battle of wills until she called loudly, "En garde!"

The boys poised their defenses in proper fencing stances. At Chip's confident bearing and correct form as he had been taught, Lumière gave him a nod of praise.

"Prêts?"

They both took a slow intake of breath to clear their heads, and it was most ideal where they were; the air couldn't be fresher.

Babette warily watched the two of them before she commanded, "Allez!"

The word barely left her mouth before Chip attacked, lithe and quick. Lumière was a bit taken aback, but couldn't help but be pleased.

The maître d' was smiling as he blocked Chip's incoming blows. "You have improved!"

The boy grinned back without missing a beat on his taps. "I've been practicing!"

Chip took a jab past Lumière's defense, but it was batted away before his teacher took the offensive.

"With the Master?" Lumière checked. Even then, Adam practiced with him to stay in shape.

"Yep!" he answered, successfully holding his own against Lumière's attempted stabs, but not without exerting a grunt or two.

After only a few minutes, the sticks, being thicker than rapiers, were turning to what felt like rods of iron in their hands. Simply because of experience, Lumière's endurance was greater, but Chip was still putting up a good fight. However, his breathing was growing heavier and his reactions slower. His defense had lowered considerably, and Lumière soon saw the opening. He was about to end the duel when Babette suddenly screeched like a little girl.

Out of instinct, Lumière spun his head to see what was wrong, but she was only furiously wiping off her leg as she examined the ground, looking rather peeved. It only took that second for Chip to sneak in and poke him in the ribs.

"Ha ha!" Chip exclaimed, victoriously thrusting his arms into the air.

Assured that Babette was fine, Lumière theatrically clutched at where he had been stabbed and let his wooden saber roll from his fingers. "Alas! My fate squandered by the false cries of my love! What cruel irony…" He made a pointed glance at Babette, who was hiding a big smile behind a hand. Taking one last staggered breath, he gasped, "And now… I die!"

Then à la Shakespeare, he fell to his knees, collapsed to the grass onto his back, and became still.

A steady clap sounded. "Bravo! Both of you!" he heard Babette say, but not without giggling. In a lower volume, she spoke again, but to Chip, "Merci, petit—or I should say, mon preux chevalier."

Lumière would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so determined to remain slain.

"At your service, Your Majesty," Chip happily replied in his dignified voice. "Would there be any more offenders needing vanquishing before I take my leave?"

"Non, chéri. You have served the forest well!" Babette dismissed with pride. "Godspeed!"

During a brief silence, Lumière could assume Chip was giving her a reverent bow before he heard a "Good fight, Lumière!" Then the hurrying of footsteps on the lawn grew further and further away. Soon enough, delicate steps approached him, and he felt her kneel by his side.

She huffed a laugh. "You are so dramatic."

Having to smile, he peeked at her with one eye. "Only in the best of circumstances."

"If only there had been a larger audience," she said with teasing remorse. "They would have wept at such a performance."

In a matter-of-fact manner, he countered, "A lover's betrayal is always guaranteed to cause tears."

Babette gaped at him. "That was not a betrayal!" She paused before saying with more dignity, "I felt a spider on my leg."

She scowled as a few belly laughs escaped him. "Then I have died for something worthwhile!"

Babette slapped him on the shoulder, but a grin tugged at one side of her mouth. "Clearly, you are alive and well, and because I am a fountain of forgiveness," she emphasized, regally clutching her breast, "I will graciously lend you a hand."

She went to stand, but he pulled her back down. "No no no," he murmured, both of his grey eyes keeping her still. "I am afraid I need to be revived."

She raised a knowing eyebrow. "How so?"

He flashed his signature one-sided smirk up at her as he brought her dainty hand to rest on his heart. "What is it that seems to work in fairytales?"

Babette smirked back, and brushed a stray hair back into his coiffure. "Hmm…" she wondered as she bent her head. "Let me think…"

Slow and rich, their lips met. Under her fingertips, she felt the pace of his heart quicken to match her own. Smoothly, he slid her hand up to his collar to wrap around his neck, their embrace deepening. As she began to indulge him, his other arm swept her onto him as he rolled. After a delighted squeal, she found herself staring up at him and his mischief-filled gaze.

She narrowed her eyes, but her smile stayed radiant. "This was your plan all along, was it not? To pin me down?"

He rubbed her arms soothingly, his grin dazzling. "Do not worry, chérie, I will protect you from any pests that dare to crawl and bite you."

"Oui, but who will protect me from you, the biggest pest of all?"

Lumière furrowed his brow, skeptical. "Is that really what you want? From what I recall…" He leaned in to murmur temptingly in her ear, "You rather like the way I bite."

Jaw dropping, Babette craned her neck to check their surroundings, cheeks flushing. Despite wanting to laugh, she turned to him again to hiss, "You have no shame! We are out in the open!"

Second to making her smile and laugh, making her blush was his favorite pastime. Just in case, he briefly glanced at the field and near the lake. Chip was gone, and the Master had taken Belle to the willow by now.

"With it all to ourselves, ma plumette," he assured, beginning to trail his lips along her neck to her mouth."Mon cœur—"

"Mon amour adoré," she mimicked playfully, her voice dropping to match his register.

He met her eye and found himself stifling an oncoming laugh at her impression of him, and Babette joined him.

Once he could speak, he observed over her giggles, "She has me slain, and then mocks me! Who is truly the pest between us now?"

Putting on a tempting pout, she gently tugged on his cravat to bring him closer and offered, "I will be yours if you will be mine."

Just as he came within a hair's breadth of her lips, he delayed her instant gratification to whisper, "I believe we have an accord."

In earnest, her hold on him tightened. Without breaking their embrace, Lumière cradled Babette in his arms and stood, holding off their passion only until they were settled against the great maple tree.

Under the gentle swaying canopy of the willow's branches, Belle and Adam settled on the blanket between two arching roots. The prince had felt his heart beat against his ribcage, but couldn't have told anyone if it was more from the proximity to the water or from the anticipation of Belle's reaction to his book selection.

Luckily, she had been overjoyed when she had seen the cover. "You found a copy!" she exclaimed. "I thought I had scoured every shelf! Where did you find it?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Where all of Shakespeare's plays were."

Not falling for his attempt at downplay, Belle eyed him with high suspicion. "How is that possible?"

Adam had to smile before he explained with lighthearted sensibility, "I noticed Richard III stuck out more than the rest and decided to investigate." Tapping the skull engraved on the cover, he spoke of the book like it was clever child. "Old Hamlet here was caught behind it."

She shivered at the mention of the hunchbacked schemer. "No wonder I never found it myself."

With a sigh of relief, she looked to the aged tome as excitement brightened her features, a sight that always made his heart feel full. He would retrieve the moon to keep the passionate sparkle in her eyes from dimming.

They read the play with vigor, having distributed the parts between them, but they took turns for the titular character, as Belle adored his speeches. Adam was enraptured by the story. The possibility of a "Cain and Abel?" And then the queen married her late husband's brother? Not to mention this Prince of Denmark was quickly becoming one of his all-time favorite characters.

They soon came to the third act, home of his most famous soliloquy. Belle finished her line as Polonius before she looked to her husband. "Why don't you read for him this time?"

Adam only had to glance at the first line of Hamlet's dialogue to recognize it. "But you love this monologue. You've recited it to me before!"

Laughing, she replied, "Yes, but I would love to hear how you read it. Please?" she entreated sweetly.

There was no way he could deny her when she asked so adorably. "All right," he said, taking the book from her hands. He cleared his throat slightly in preparation for the page-long speech.

"To be, or not to be," he began with clear, practiced intonation, "that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing… end them."

He blinked at the text, its meaning just dawning on him. It had always sounded so unassuming when Belle had lovingly recited it.

He licked his lips before reading on. "To die—to sleep… no more; and by sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished."

As the words sunk in, he found he had lost his voice. He heard the lapping of the lake against the small cliff of dirt they were perched on press closely on his ears.

"Adam?"

A guilt that had long been dormant pulsed in his gut, making him feel slightly ill. But he couldn't look away from Hamlet's words.

"What is it?" Belle asked with rising concern, touching his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

He slowly set the book facedown and wrapped his arms around his knees before he answered, "Belle, I have… something to confess."

Belle retracted her hand, but seemed no less eager to comfort. She patiently waited for him to say more.

The mortification he was already feeling stalled his voice, but he pushed on. "I've told you that… my parents died around the same time when I was… rather young."

When she nodded, he continued, "I have never told you… how they died."

He could feel that Belle wanted to assure him he didn't have to, but he was glad she didn't. He might have actually listened, and that wouldn't help to relieve this weight.

The prince enclosed his fist into a vice. "My mother contracted… an incurable illness. Perhaps it had been from her trip to the city—we don't really know for sure. But…"

Adam pursed his lips. "When she died, my father fell ill, but from something different." He dared to glance at Belle for only a second. "They say he died from a broken heart. That my mother's loss had been too great for him to live through."

With a shake of his head, he released a trembling breath. "I… found it… very difficult to cope after that, as much as Mrs. Potts, Lumière, Cogsworth… everyone tried to help. I… couldn't shake this feeling… this urge to… do something about… how I felt."

"Oh, Adam…" Belle murmured, and he knew she had figured it out.

He had to finish though, as much as the shame almost made him stop. "That same year, I tried to… do it by jumping into the lake."

Belle's jaw dropped. "So that's why you…"

Adam grinned despite himself. "You figured that out, too?"

Her shoulders deflated. "I did notice it last year when you looked so… tense near the water."

"I wasn't very discreet," he admitted with a wry smile. He ran fingers agitatedly through his hair. "It was stupid—the whole thing was complete idiocy on my part. I regretted it as soon as I jumped." He huffed a sarcastic laugh. "I can't even swim!"

Belle gripped his hand tightly, becoming stern. "Adam, nothing about that is stupid. You were in pain. If I had been in your position…" She struggled to find adequate words but could only muster, "I can't even imagine!"

Forcing her fingers into his, she clasped it between both hands. "You have been through so much."

Finally able to face her, he covered her hand. "And I'm a better man for it. It's just…" His eyes drifted over the lake. "I've never wanted to admit that I had felt that way, and tried to carry it out, no less." He had to roll his eyes. "What was I thinking?"

She nestled her head into his shoulder, looping an arm into his and re-intertwining their fingers. He leaned his cheek against her hair. Though his heart still pounded, he already felt so much more at ease now that it was in the open between them. She continued to be this ever supportive and understanding presence in his life, and he couldn't be grateful enough that she was there.

"Thank you," she softly spoke, rubbing his arm. "For telling me."

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

She released a contented sigh. "I love you, too."

The sounds of the willow's leaves, and the shifting of the water's surface by the caressing breezes washed over and through them, and the prince heard the beauty in all of it.

These same winds swept the fields and flowers basking in the sunlight along the forest's edge, soothing the heat that the maid and maître d' felt on their cheeks and at their fingertips. They allowed themselves to cool off, and lounged against each other in the shade.

During her attempt to get comfortable, Babette went to move debris from the grass underneath her, and unexpectedly grasped a smoothly carved object. Bringing it out to examine, she saw she had retrieved a small wooden bird. "Did you make this?" she said to Lumière.

Turning his eyes from the view of the château on the sparkling water, he glanced down at what she held. "Do not sound so amazed," he replied with a smirk. "It is not much."

"Non!" she chastised with a nudge of her shoulder. "It's precious! I did not realize you were so skilled with your hands in more ways than one," she quipped with a wry look. "What other talents have you kept hidden from me?"

He swept the hair that had fallen from her bun behind her ear before he kissed her cheek. "None that have proven quite useful, in our case."

Biting her lip to hide her grin, she tucked her legs under her, leaning more into him. "May I keep it?"

"By all means! I had the intention of giving it to you in the first place."

Though she smiled, her expression filled with regret. "But I have made nothing to repay you! Unless you would like my crown," she offered jokingly, fingering the daisies above her ear.

"Oh no, I would never deny you your birthright, mademoiselle!" He straightened the flowers that still sat sweetly on her brow. "It suits you much more. Besides…" His fingers strayed to linger along her jaw. "With your company alone, you have already given me everything I could ever want."

Looking into his eyes, she saw as much love as she felt for him. After so many years, and all their varying ups and downs, from the monumental to the insignificant, that was the one thing in their lives that had remained constant. Her heart skipped a beat as she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Pocketing the little bird, she curled more into his embrace, burrowing her head under his chin.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the swaying stalks and distant running of water accompany her love's breathing. The scents of blooming flowers and soil blended with that of sandalwood embedded in his jacket. His warmth gave her peace and comfort, and after a deep inhale, she began to doze.

Lumière heard her breathing slow and smiled. For years, this hadn't been possible. Now he took it upon himself to hold and cherish her for as long as she would allow. Thankfully, Babette would always insist on falling asleep in his arms; the contact soothed them both.

However, he couldn't be tempted to follow her to dreamland. He stayed alert, his gaze drifting over the fields, cattails, and waterlilies to the château that glimmered on the lake before he would return to look at the garden paths. His mind whirred with potential words, proper phrasing, and tone to properly articulate his feelings, but he tried to stem these thoughts with a calming breath when his heart fluttered in his chest. He knew he shouldn't worry, but the anxiety stayed despite him. This all had to be done right.

In the distance, he saw Chip making his way toward them. Whether he was mentally prepared are not, the time was now.

As soon as Chip could see him, Lumière put his finger to his lips. The boy nodded the affirmative before silently mouthing, The flowers?

Lumière pointed to the spot a few feet from him where Babette had set down her collection after the duel. Remember the plan? he mouthed back.

Chip grinned and gave a salute before tip-toeing to grab the bouquet. Lumière winked at him before leaning his head against the trunk, pretending to be napping. When in position, he motioned to Chip to begin.

"Hey, Babette!"

The maid stirred at Lumière's side, and still groggy with sleep, blinked in the fast descending light of early dusk.

"Thank you for the flowers," Chip continued once he got her attention, waving the batch around. "They will be wonderful compensation for my services!"

Babette immediately straightened, her eyes narrowing. "Don't. You. Dare."

"I will happily return them if 'Your Highness' is fast enough," Chip offered, wearing a smirk he must have learned from the master of mischief himself before hurrying off down the hill.

"Chip! Why you…!" Babette jumped to her feet, all her drowsiness having vanished. Though she was poised to race, she took a moment to give a convincingly surprised Lumière an apologetic kiss. "I'm sorry, amour, I will not lose my hard work! Wait here for me."

She didn't give him time to respond before sprinting after Chip, the hurried pounding of her laced work boots in the dirt proving her perseverance.

Grinning all the while, Lumière dutifully followed after them, careful to watch for stray branches and other treacherous obstacles in the growing darkness that could impede his chase.

Holding one side of the book as Adam held the other, Belle clutched at her cheek and cried, "Ah, my good lord, what have I seen tonight!"

"What, Gertrude," he replied in kind, establishing a very kingly bass timbre, "how does Hamlet?"

"Mad as the sea and wind when both contend which is mightier!" she proclaimed in distress. "In his lawless fit, behind the arras hearing something stir, whips out his rapier, cries—"

"Petit chenapan, get back here!"

Both perked up from their immersion at the shout and glanced at each other in confusion.

"That couldn't be…" Belle thought aloud, but she stood to investigate.

Running down the field and heading for the garden paths was Chip followed by a furious-looking Babette while Lumière trailed behind. One by one, they flew past the willow's little cliff like their lives depended on it.

Belle looked to Adam, who had turned back around with a small grin on his face. "Do you know what that was about?"

His eyes flitted to hers before he shrugged. "I couldn't say. It looked like…" He raised a humored eyebrow. "Chip stole Babette's flowers."

"Hmm…" She pursed her lips in thought. When Chip carried out tricks and taunts like that, he was normally instigated by Lumière.

Adam chuckled. "I don't think I've ever seen her or Lumière run that fast."

She turned and smirked at him, though her mind still wondered about them.

Hoping he was really getting away with revealing the truth, he picked up the play again and held it out for her. "You were saying, my queen? I believe it was at, 'he cried, Petit chenapan, get back here!'"

Belle snorted as his voice jumped to a girlish octave. His character inflections had become very good, she had to admit. He was expressive and articulate when he read, and bore such a modest confidence for this newly acquired skill that she found infinitely attractive. But his female characters definitely needed some work.

Looking to him, she noted how his eyes were eagerly scanning the next page. "Are you enjoying it so far?"

His smile widened, uttering with absolution, "Yes! This is… one of the best we've read, if not the best. I'm so glad I managed to find it!"

She beamed at his enthusiasm. Ever since she reintroduced the joy of reading to him, she felt such a thrill when he showed how invested he was in the story. No one else had done as much for her before, save for her father and on occasion, the kindly bookseller, Monsieur Marchand. But Adam never made her feel like he was doing her a favor. She felt and knew he loved reading as much as she did.

Books had been how she had explored the world. Now she had someone to join her with vigor on her adventures through them.

"Just wait until you read the ending," Belle hinted with mischievous delight.

As she went back to speaking her lines, Adam released a quick breath of relief at having kept Lumière's plans to himself, and silently hoped they went well.

Chip led Babette through the flowerbeds and parterres, hurtling over low ones to deter her, but Babette was not discouraged. She hopped over them in pursuit, and Lumière, though he was thrilled to see her in such activity, was forced to do the same just to keep up.

As instructed, Chip headed for the colonnade, which seemed to glow from the sunset, and made it there seconds before Babette. He set the bouquet on the middle of the stone bench and hid behind a pillar as she arrived. Though she stopped to catch her breath, she found it more due to the sight before her.

It was not the sunset that caused the colonnade to glow, but dozens of lit candelabra arranged on the ground, on the dais at its center, and sitting on every pillars' mantel. The warm flickering gleam of each candle reflected off the roses and their leaves in colorful collages of emerald, scarlet, fuchsia, and ivory.

As she registered her bouquet on the bench, a breathless Lumière strode into the light. She turned to see him clasp arms with Chip.

"Well done, mon fils!" he whispered proudly. "Tell your mother you have deserved a generous slice of chocolate torte."

Babette stared as the boy fled to retrieve his prize, and Lumière slowly approached her. His infamous one-sided smirk was on display as his eyes swept over the colonnade and gave an approving nod to its appearance.

She cocked an eyebrow at him as she gestured to the candelabra. "What is all this?"

He gently took her hand and led her to the bench as he said, "My attempt at a more… romantic atmosphere." He offered her the flowers she had spent all afternoon diligently plucking from the field.

Warily accepting them back, her gaze was still full of inquiry as she took a seat beside him. His hands trembled and there was a nervousness in his expression that she was completely unaccustomed to seeing, but his eyes were determined and steadfast.

He licked his lips before speaking again. "Babette, mon amour, do you remember the promise I made to you the day the curse was cast?"

She blinked at the question, but replied tentatively, "That… you would see us through until it was over, no matter how it ended." Covering his hand, she smiled. "I would say you kept your word."

He mirrored her grin and gesture, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs, before he glanced down and softly said, "Well, chérie… I have a confession to make."

The gravity of his tone was causing her brain to run amuck with curiosity, but she sealed her lips tight.

He took a deep breath before he dived in, his gaze flickering from her eyes as he spoke slow and even. "In truth, as… optimistic as I tried to be at every turn… there were times when I had wished for a peaceful end. I would often ask myself what hope there could be when, after years, not even a ghost would pass our gates."

Though he was trying to hide it, Babette could see how vulnerable this made him feel. Setting her flowers aside, she slid closer to him and arranged her fingers to intertwine with his. He looked up at her, the hope in his expression morphing into adoration as they bowed their heads together.

"But then, every time… I would think of you, ma chère Babette," he breathed her name, smiling like no other word gave him more pleasure, and then continued with growing passion, "You were the one who kept my flames burning, who kept in me the want to survive what felt like an eternity apart from life itself. I knew long before then you were the woman who would forever have a hold on my heart, but during the curse, I realized that life mattered most to me when you were there by my side. Now…"

He swallowed as he straightened, his voice just above a whisper. "I dare to hope that you would wish for me to remain by yours as well… until death do us part."

Babette's eyes widened, her heart beginning to pound feverishly at what she thought she was hearing. It couldn't be… could it?

Then he flashed her that irresistible smirk of his. "Ma plumette." She grinned at her endearing nickname before he pressed on with more tenderness, "Light of my life." His powerful stare held her in place, even when her breath caught a second time, as he got down on one knee before her, his tone painfully ardent. "Will you give the happiest of men the highest honor and privilege… of becoming your lawfully wedded husband?"

Her eyes shining, she knelt to be level with him, unable to contain her joy. "Only if that man is you."

She waited the entire span of a second for him to register her response before kissing him full on the mouth, and even that had seemed too long to wait. When it came to expressing how much she loved him, she never hesitated, not for a moment. But this time, it had been worth it to see the adorable disbelief on his face.

His body relaxed instantly under her influence. Taking her arms, he helped her rise to their feet before pulling her close. The euphoria that bubbled in his chest as her acceptance sunk in caused him to laugh against her lips. Tightening his hold, a peal of her giggles sounded as he spun her around.

Their eyes met again as her feet returned to the ground, though it hardly felt that way to her. For all she knew, she was floating on air.

"Now tell me honestly," she began with that familiar inquisitiveness, though it stalled Lumière from giving her neck and cheeks the affection he longed to bestow. "Had you believed, even for the briefest glimpse of a moment, that I would deny you?"

His smile, despite how he feigned a nonchalant shrug, turned bashful, another rarity on his part. "Despite how sure I was that you wouldn't, I had to prepare myself for the worst. We have done well for ourselves without needing to exchange vows, after all. Besides," he added, his expression attempting innocence, "you know how, for ages, I used to boast of my confirmed bachelorhood. Habits are very hard to break."

Smirking, Babette cocked an eyebrow and reminded, "You are not the only one who feared marriage, remember?"

"What a befitting couple we make," he teased, watching her smile widen. "If I may say so, chérie, my proposal is long overdue. It is only too fortunate another man hadn't come along to snatch you away before I took the chance!"

"As if any other man could keep me so entertained," she purred.

Her beguiling blue eyes, aflame from the candlelight, entranced him beyond reckoning. Those eyes that belonged to the woman whom he credited his survival to, whom he would soon call his wife… Never had he thought the prospect of matrimony would excite him, and so profoundly. Only because of her was that possible.

Beckoning with her eyes, she lured him in for another kiss, one as amorous as any before, yet their jubilation again took over. Babette stood on her toes to deepen their embrace, breathless and ecstatic in the thought of marrying him. To have grown to be so willing and open to the idea…

Well, in all honesty, she might have said yes to him long ago had he asked. There had been no turning back when she had decided all those years ago that she irrevocably, unabashedly loved him.

The puffy clouds that hung overhead soon came to look as though they were spun from sugar. Violet shadows followed their voluminous forms as they drifted towards the darkening horizon.

With the sun rapidly setting, Belle and Adam's light source had become too dim to finish the last act. They hurried through the garden paths to return inside, as Adam was anxious to know how it concluded. Plus, since she had hinted at a duel occurring, he had half a mind to try and act it out. He had thought about offering to teach Belle the basics of fencing anyway, even if only for the sake of reenacting fine literature.

The prince had taken the lead back to the castle, but the glow from the colonnade made both of them take pause. Its light spread from between the pillars, creating spokes of shadow on the surrounding parterres and flowerbeds. Nearby trees half-glowed from the mix of darkness and light, providing even more contrast to the leaves on their branches. It was a rather stunning effect.

Adam grinned as he remembered what Lumière had accounted to him of his intentions. It hadn't seemed grand by his broad though enthusiastic description, but its execution far exceeded expectations.

Squinting her eyes from the distance, Belle could make out the silhouettes of whom were undoubtedly the maître d' and the maid he adored thoroughly wrapped in their own world.

She glanced with curiosity at Adam, hesitating. "Was this… planned?"

He brought her hand to the crook of his elbow before he resumed their walk, his smile broadening. "You know, when Lumière told me his idea, I had my doubts. But from the looks of everything, it seems to have gone… very well."

Belle's eyes widened as it struck her, and she peeked over her shoulder to confirm her thoughts. "Did he—Did Lumière propose?"

His laugh at her awe was as good as a nod to her, and Belle clutched his arm with excitement, her dimples on full display. "That's wonderful! Oh, I'm so happy for them!" But then she turned on him, brow furrowing with teasing offense. "And you knew? How could you not tell me?"

He raised an open palm in surrender. "I promised not to tell a soul until it had happened," he admitted. "With my luck, Babette would have heard my whispers on the wind."

Belle consented to his excuse with humored sympathy. "I hope they will let us help with the ceremony. Especially after everything they did to make ours so memorable."

With a calm certainty, Adam assured, "I think you would be saving them the trouble of asking."

A reminiscent smile tugged on her lips, leaning more onto her husband's arm. "Now I keep thinking back to our own wedding."

"It was memorable," he agreed. "I would say it was the happiest day of my life… next to the curse breaking."

With that option presented, she murmured, "Oh, you're right…" She gave him an impish sidelong glance before saying with mock seriousness, "There are so many pros to each—I just can't decide which one made me happier!"

Adam smirked but played along. "You know, my dear," he reminded astutely, "there is nothing wrong with having two happiest days… despite it being a grammatical impossibility."

Belle's melodious laugh flew above the crickets' calls and trickling fountains as they neared the garden's gate. He had taken to reading with more scrutiny than she had realized! "Well, sir, in that case… I would have to say that I have no favorite."

With a cue from his skeptical expression, she continued sweetly, all joking aside, "Every day with you has felt like the happiest one."

Though the sunset was well behind the forest's trees, its light still sparkled off her hazel eyes. At her open sincerity, he felt the dams in his heart burst forth. What had he done to deserve the love and respect of this bright, strong, and spirited mademoiselle?

He tried to keep his sudden outpouring of love maintained under his shy smile as he stepped in front of her to open the gate. His throat tight with feeling, he politely bowed for her to proceed.

Her watchful study of him must have perceived how he felt. She went to oblige him, but as she walked passed, she suddenly felt his tight hold on her hand. With a single glance at his cerulean blue eyes, she could make out his quiet earnestness before his warm arms enveloped her and her lips were gently brought to his. The heat rising to her cheeks, she tilted her head to welcome his kiss with enthusiasm.

Now that they were married, Adam was grateful in times like these: When words utterly failed him, he could still express them. Even better was the fact that nothing got lost in translation. Belle understood him completely.

Writing this was certainly a nice change-of-pace from the craziness of my life. Some fluff every now and then is medicating, for sure! I hope it had a similar effect for you as well. If anything, I hope, if you live with snow in the winter, this helped you feel warmer - even by just a little!