Author's Note: Before I begin, I want to give a special thanks to everyone who encouraged me to finish this story. It's because if you all that I even tried. I wanna cry, because, as the title of the chapter states, it truly IS the end of a three-year journey. I'll bet some of you can even drink now! It's so weird to look back on everything and think, 'Wow. I wrote that." I'm proud of myself, and I hope you guys are too. Enjoy the last chapter of Enhchantment's Lament.

Chapter Eleven: End of an Era

The daunting silhouette of the castle shimmered within the thickening forest fog. Undeterred, Belle gently pulled Phillipe to a soft trot. Lumiere lifted the flap of the satchel and got a whiff of singed material. Glancing downward, his soul lurched. At first glance, the silken powder blanket could be mistaken for snow on the ground, but it was ash that draped the graveyard.

"We're back," Lumiere declared as they stopped at the tall cruel gate. He stared at the towers, conflicted. Before the invasion, the familiarity of home would have trumped his unease, but now nothing could quell his nerves.

"We have to hurry," Belle urged, dismounting from the saddle. "If Gaston finds out where we are—" she stopped quickly as her feet landed, sending a cloud of ash into the air. Lumiere looked on, sickened; the ash could have belonged to any number of his friends. Belle tried not to vomit and did the sign of the cross, swinging the satchel with Lumiere over her shoulder. After tying Phillipe to one of the thick steel bars, she forced open the gate and stepped inside.

"All right, before we work with the rose, what else have you tried to break this spell?" Belle queried Lumiere when they reached the doors. Stepping carefully over the rubble, she got inside and held him out to light up the room.

He let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, what haven't we tried? Incantations, prayers, pleads for—" He stopped suddenly, glancing warily away. He didn't have any intention to reveal what WOULD'VE reversed the spell. Such a revelation would cause her to take more blame, more than the goose eggs she deserved. "—for a chance at redemption," he amended. "Mind that we've been here for a decade to do naught but serve the master. I'd never spent so much time in that library as I did searching for clues."

Belle thought hard. "Have you tried communicating with the enchantress?"

"Oui." Lumiere glared, reminiscing. "Many a time."

"And she never answered? What did you do exactly?"

"We left her letters, wooden signs, prayers—anything we could think of anywhere we could reach. Nobody has seen her since the night of the party," Lumiere grumbled, and Belle could see that he was particularly put out. "The chances of her returning NOW after all this misery is, well..."

"Less than nothing," Belle finished, coming to a swift stop at the base of the grand staircase. "In that case, we need to find another way." On she walked. With the absence of sound, the castle had never felt so empty. Belle shivered. It was even worse when she had first arrived to rescue her father.

"Not a hair of evidence that she had ever come at all," Lumiere went on with a heavier manner. "Well, except for—"

Belle jolted. "The rose!" She doubled her grip around his base and bounded up the stairs.

"You think-?" Lumiere gasped and held onto her fists for dear life, careful not to burn her. "I know it's the last we have of her, but it's dead Mademoiselle! No color, nor magic; it's gone!"

Belle pondered over that. "Dead or alive, it's still a trace of magic, and we have a chance to harness it."

Lumiere was uncertain. Since the discovery of the rose ten years back, nobody had dared touch it, lest a petal fall by accident. The Master himself had been most adamant about banishing those who dared defy him on the matter.

"It's worth a try," Belle insisted, jogging down one of many corridors it would take to reach the West Wing. "If we try and it works, viola! If not, it won't hang over our heads."

Lumiere sighed. It was true. Plus, who was he to talk? He had no other ideas.

At last, they reached the stairs to the West Wing. Belle took a deep breath and bounded up to the destroyed space that once belonged to the Master. Lumiere's eyes darted down to the devastated furniture and appliances and swallowed hard. He'd always hated this room.

Further in they traveled, stepping on and over splinters of wood and shards of glass until the balcony came into view, looking just as how it did when it was abandoned. Down to the blood staining the area like an omen. Belle's stomach churned but she kept focus.

There it was. The stone table and glass dome both stood strong and unscathed, but the decrepit rose itself was another story. The fallen brown stem was barren and dry, the shriveled petals scattered about, just as useless as Lumiere had predicted. His wax lip curled in disdain at the sight. He wanted to turn back and say it was too late, even if that made him sound like a pessimistic Cogsworth. However, seeing Belle's hopeful expression placated his protests for the present.

Belle carefully set Lumiere on the table. Centered was the glass dome housing the dead rose.

It took some effort for him to look away and settle his sparks. He'd never wanted to set the monstrosity aflame so badly.

Belle lifted the glass dome, cool and flawless against her fingertips, and carefully set it aside. Turning back to the rose, she clapped her hands together. "Okay," she said to herself. "Okay. The rose served as an hourglass; that we know. What else could it do?"

Lumiere shrugged. "Supply pastel lighting?" he supplied, half-joking. "Ambience, perhaps?"

Belle gave him a tired look.

"No, Mademoiselle," he admitted.

"And what about the English engraving?" Belle pressed, gesturing to the glass dome.

Lumiere jolted. "Engraving?" He repeated, incredulous. "What engraving?"

After a moment of silence, the young woman picked up the dome and pointedly traced her forefinger over the glass, struggling to translate the foreign language to French aloud.

"No…b-befouled, again… again unbidden, through the …hex …something," she stumbled. Giving Lumiere a strange look, she brought the dome closer to him so he could see for himself. "You haven't seen this?" She queried with confusion.

The candelabra squinted hard at the glass, but the surface was unblemished as it always had been. "I see nothing," he replied with a helpless shrug.

"It's right here!" Belle insisted excitedly, rotating the dome to show the elegant inscription. "See? A clue, or a riddle!"

"That only YOU can see? In English as well? Of course, the enchantress would do this," Lumiere snorted, trying to sound annoyed, but in truth could not mask his excitement. "English sw-"

"I only know the English Papa taught me," Belle cut in, "so if push comes to shove, I'll find a dictionary in the library to figure this out." With that, she traced the fair inscription with her fingertips, slowly and deliberately to herself, searching for the answer. Lumiere gazed at her fondly. He was the first to claim she was the girl to break the spell, but he hadn't anticipated coming this far—not after the invasion and certainly not after the last petal fell.

After Belle raced to the library and brought back an English-French dictionary, Lumiere helped her translate as she wrote down the English engraving. All the while, he tried his best to shove down his hope and prepare himself for the moment Belle realized their tries were futile and together come up with another plan, but if he had a heart, it would be pounding with anticipation.

"Wait." She reread the translated engraving, thinking carefully about the last choice of words. Lumiere tilted his wax head and watched her expression blossom from confusion to clarity. "I think I've got it!" She whispered to him, frozen with shock at the realization.

"You have?" He jumped before he could stop himself. "What? What've you figured out?"

"No more befouled, again unbound, again unbidden, through the shadow-less shall hex be overridden," she read aloud in their native language.

"And?" Lumiere pressed.

"This last part, if my grammar serves: through the shadow-less shall hex be overridden," she repeated. "So, what exists without a shadow?"

"Light?" Lumiere took a start. "Oh—Fire!"

"That's the key to breaking the spell. Burning it away." Lifting the dome, Belle carefully swept the dead petals and stem into a pile, her heart pounding. "Through the shadow-less—" she beckoned him over and gestured to the shriveled rose, "shall hex be overridden," she recited. "The hex is the curse, the shadow-less is the fire—this must be it!"

Lumiere stood still. He was still uncertain and feared to let false-hope be their downfall. However, his rekindling optimism buzzed excitedly beneath the layers of despair. He would do what she said because even if it was all for naught, they could say that they did everything they could and then some. He thought of the children, his friends, his family who'd all suffered under this curse. They deserved the chance, no matter how slim.

With a deep breath, Lumiere moved over to the rose, rekindled his flames, and paused. The last bit of uncertainty melted away when Belle nodded at him with encouragement. He smiled and set fire to the nearest dried up petal. In truth, whether or not this would break the spell, the destruction of this plant gave him immense satisfaction.

Belle inhaled deeply, clasped her hands together, and squeezed her eyes shut in deep concentration. "S'il te plaît, mon Dieu," she prayed as it caught flame. "Laissez cela fonctionne."

After performing the sign of the cross, Belle watched the rose petals and stem burn in a methodically consuming fire. It was more colorful than any fire had the right to be, and the way each vein within the plant curled and burst to spread into its very core was oddly beautiful. No ash was left behind. Every element sparked and flickered like a firefly as it disappeared into the cloudy sky, leaving the table bare.

A minute passed. Then two. Belle's quickened heart rate becalmed along with her hope, which was replaced with undeniable dismay. Her eyes flickered over to Lumiere, who still hadn't opened his eyes, and whose form had remained unchanged.

It didn't work. Belle clenched her fists and stomped to the edge of the balcony. As if to emphasize their misery, a great bout of thunder rumbled from above, and heavy rain began to patter around them. She took no notice. She trembled, tight-lipped and pale.

"Who were you to pass judgment on them?" came her dangerously soft question. She let her fingers dig into the railing. She hoped the enchantress, wherever that heathen may be, could hear her woeful whispers. Beneath the cascade of rain droplets, she tipped her head back to glare at the gloomy skies. What hope was there that her friends would ever be human again?

She tried. She tried so hard to make things all right, but her efforts had all been in vain. She turned, preparing to apologize when a bolt of lightning struck between herself and Lumiere with a sharp crackle. She screamed, threw herself backward…

…and tumbled over the railing. Quick as a bullet, her hands shot out and grabbed onto a ridge, which provided only an inch of space. She couldn't hold on for long. Throat clenching and teeth grinding, she hung there dumbly. When she looked down and saw the hundreds of feet of space between her and the stone ground, she began to hyperventilate.

"BELLE!"

She gasped wetly, her heart soaring. She was sure that the lightning strike would be more than enough to end Lumiere's life, but she was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong!

"I-I fell!" she cried, readjusting her aching fingers. She was going to lose her grip. "I'm so sorry!" she sobbed, clinging desperately to the ridge and blinking her waterlogged eyes. "Make haste! Take care of everyone! Tell my father I love him! And Mrs. Potts—Cogsworth! Chip and you! Please! Lumiere! Get away and don't ever lose hope!"

She shut her eyes and her fingers fell away.

As she began her descent, her shell-shocked mind cried out for the angels to save her.

"…"

"…"

"…"

SLAM.

Belle dizzily opened her eyes to discover that she wasn't falling anymore. A rough, calloused hand had caught her own and she'd smacked into the wall.

Gaston.

No. NO! Panicked, she wriggled her fingers in the death grip, despair settling over her to such a degree that she would rather fall than face this man again. She lost all sense of time as she was pulled back over the edge. She fell to her arms and knees, shaken and defeated, while the muffled voice tried to get her attention.

No.

She peered. The table that once held the dome and her small friend had fallen over with a giant crash, parts melted and smoking in the rain from the lightning bolt that had struck it. She shuddered and rubbed her waterlogged eyes. She called for Lumiere, wiping away the last of the rain from her eyes.

"Monsieur?" Her blurry eyes scanned the area for the golden candelabra but instead landed on a lean young man sitting awkwardly on the ground before her, looking quite shocked and shaky.

There was a strong silence.

Belle tenses. She was terrified at first, under the impression that Gaston must have followed her here and sent in one of his followers to fetch her.

"Are you okay, mon chérie?" The young man gasped.

She froze, blinking rapidly. "Lumiere?" she whispered. His brown eyes snapped up to her, and she knew.

It was him.

Shocked himself, Lumiere heaved in disbelief and barked out a hoarse laugh of hysteria.

It was him!

He'd thrown himself against the railing, she realized—which had made that slam—and saved her life! Lumiere was already tearing up as Belle brought her hands to her mouth.

"Belle-"

She dove, nearly tripping over her own feet before she wrapped her arms around his human form for the first time. She was giddy, laughing hysterically as she clutched his shirt.

He wasn't a figment of her imagination, nor a trick of the light. The curse was broken and he was free! If HE was free, the others back in the village must be free as well! Lumiere's arms only remained at his sides for a few moments-it'd been ten years since he'd put them to use, after all-before clutching her in return. It'd been nothing short of a miracle that he'd managed to catch her before she fell. Perhaps some primal part of him knew what to do all along.

There was nothing but unrelenting joy for Belle in his heart—the one who'd broken the curse. She'd done it, this angel had done it.

"We did it! We really did it!" she cried, pulling back to get a good look at him. She shook her head with disbelief. "Oh, if this is a dream, I'll toss myself over again!" she half-joked and buried her face in his chest.

"N-No!" Lumiere cried, a flurry of emotions overtaking him. "This—This isn't a dream! I keep pinching myself to make sure," he laughed, borderline hysterical as he held up his shaky hands for her to see. "You see?! I couldn't have done that before!" He clumsily got his feet and took her in his arms, swinging her about jovially. "Merci! Merci! Merci, Mademoiselle!"

"We broke the spell!" she cheered, and he stopped to give her two big kisses of thanks on her cheeks. "Look at you," she repeated, astounded as she stepped back to observe him. "I never imagined you'd look—"

"This dashing?" he cut in, half-joking. "I'd forgotten what I looked like…and I hadn't commissioned any portraits-" he stopped and beamed at her. "Je vous remercie du fond de mon cœur."

They embraced once more, sinking to the stone floor with unlimited relief and awe.

…

The villagers, under LeFou's direction, had gathered the enchanted beings and organized them onto a large display in the center of the village. They were more than ready to start the wedding, especially an infuriated Gaston, who stood at the altar of the church.

"Where IS she?" He hissed to his groomsmen, who shrugged sorrowfully. Gaston groaned and adjusted his weskit. "I know ladies can be fashionably late, but…" he trailed, eyeing the skinned Beast beneath his feet, "…this is beginning to worsen." The audience members chatted quietly amongst themselves, slowly realizing the absence of one Belle. The group of women who were supposed to dress her was causing quite a commotion in the back.

The priest, a little old man with a squint, asked, "Do we have a runaway bride on our hands?" He let out a wheezy laugh. "Oh, Sonny, you're in trouble."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Gaston inhaled sharply, but he could not argue with the priest. "Father John, I'm sure she's just running a little late."

Then, the commotion in the back grew to such an extent that Gaston had to see for himself what was going on. He watched people standing outside the doors whispering furiously amongst themselves, pointing at the fancy table that had been set up for auction.

What he saw was nothing short of astounding. The enchanted objects were gone. In their place was an unfamiliar group of people pressed up against one another, looking just as dumbfounded as the townsfolk.

"They were people?" a man whispered from behind a box. Gaston blanched.

Chip clutched his mother's hand, eying the small-town children. There was a long, agonizing silence, no person on either side willing to speak, either too afraid or too shocked.

Gaston remained tall and sturdy but felt sick. Eyeing his small army, he recognized a flicker of realization amongst the mass of confusion and—most dastardly of all—regret. This was bad. He may not have been a strong book reader, but he could read people like a charm. He knew that this very well may tip his throne and leave him sprawling. What he could say to diffuse this was far from his mind. How could he now defend the pillaging? The kidnapping? The…murders?

LeFou knew it too. "Oh boy," he mumbled, eyeing a hefty Cogsworth straightening his formal jacket.

The silence continued. Then, one of Chip's sister gave a twirl in her frilly dress, a big smile blooming across her face. "Mama!" she cried. "We're human again!" The mood changed, just like that, from shock and fear to relief and joy. The townsfolk watched in shock as the group of what used to be materials began to cry and cheer and hug each other.

A few confused souls who had no idea what was going on slowly began to clap. One man asked his friend, "Oi, what'd I miss, the whole wedding?"

Gaston swallowed his pride and thought hard. He needed to be careful. People were fickle; they could turn against him in an instant. "Oh, you poor creatures," he cried, moving towards them with his arms spread. The former accursed backed away with their newly regained vessels, instinct prevailing even though they were normal-sized.

"To think you were trapped against your will, unable to live as humans. How unforgivable. I," he held a hand against his chest, feigning humble regret, "am deeply sorry for all that we've done."

It was dawning on everyone. One villager was panicking. He'd thrown an entire bookshelf of screaming people into a bonfire. Practically dribbling with guilt, he desperately squeaked, "A-At least you've had some respite, yah? Coming here must've forced the curse to wear off." The crowd mumbled, shaky and nervous.

The ladies who'd dressed Belle spoke. "Perhaps Mademoiselle Belle did something back at the castle."

Gaston's hackles raised and he whirled around. "Back at the castle? What are you saying?"

The ladies faltered and looked at each other with confusion. It was evident that they thought he'd known. "Why, she left a good hour ago to fetch your wedding present! You didn't know?"

Gaston called over his horse and mounted it without a second thought, rage burning his insides. To the ladies, he asked, "Did she have anyone with her?"

They shook their heads no.

"What about a candelabra?"

To that, the poor ladies shifted uneasily. They just couldn't understand why he was so angry. Sure, Belle was late, but it wasn't the end of the world. Perhaps he was just worried.

The man's nostrils flared. He knew exactly what she'd done.

LeFou waddled to his side. "Wait! Wait!" he squeaked. "Don't leave me here!"

Gaston ignored his pitiful lackey and rode off with murder in his eyes.

…

The rain poured harder than ever, but it couldn't stop Gaston from reaching the castle.

He stormed in. "Belle!" His deep, guttural voice bouncing off the walls of the space. He slammed the doors behind him and grabbed a nearby beam to blockade the handles.

Upstairs, the guilty party froze, their hearts dropping in unison as the dreadful villain made himself known. As if on cue, a flash of lightning struck a nearby pine and set it aflame. They jumped. Belle clutched at her apron.

"It's him," she exhaled, feeling a wave of anxiety shoot up her spine. "He's going to…oh, God. This will never end, will it? He's going to kill us, isn't he? He—He—!" She choked on her words, her breath quickening.

In the span of three seconds, Lumiere gazed at her face and made a momentous decision. He grabbed her shoulders and guided her to a more slanted slope of the castle walls. "Can you climb?"

Belle nodded, dazed. "Yes?" She whispered.

Lumiere tried to smile. "When you reach the bottom, find Phillipe and escape."

The young woman stiffened and jerked away from his hold. "Oh, don't you pull that!" She hissed, dread overtaking her being when she realized what Lumiere was planning to do. "You aren't staying here; not if I can help it."

"Gaston doesn't know you're here—" Lumiere began.

"But he must," she insisted. "He called out to me! I'm doomed whether or not he finds me here." But the man shook his head.

"He may be a scoundrel, but he will not lay a finger on you. Not if he is to uphold his reputation in the village. I can hold him off and give you enough time to get back to your father. He will do you no harm when he returns home and sees you there."

"And when he sees you here?" She choked, clutching his face. "What if he recognizes you?"

The young man looked down and Belle wanted to scream. "Don't throw yourself away for me, Lumiere! Be sensible! Come with me!" Even as she said it, she knew what would happen. Gaston would find them. No matter where she went, the hunter would stalk his prey. At the same time, she would fight. She would fight for her freedom forever. That, she promised.

"I know this place," Lumiere assured. "There are so many places for me to hide, many secret passages I can tunnel to escape. When I lose him, I'll join you back at the village. He will not catch me, Belle."

The young woman bit her bottom lip and laughed weakly. "You are a terrible liar, Lumiere." He took her hand in his and stroked it gently. "If you won't climb down with me, I'll wait for you at the bottom. I will look for you, and I won't ever stop until you're found."

Lumiere opened his mouth to object, but Belle held firm. "If I can't stop you from staying, you can't stop me from staying," she declared, putting her foot down. He gazed at her for a moment and then gave her one last hug. Belle clutched at him, trying to memorize everything. With what she knew, this would be the last time they'd embrace.

"Ride home, mon amour. I'll try to see you soon," Lumiere promised, lifting her hand in his own and kissing it tenderly. Belle squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. "Believe in your strength and remember everyone you love believes in you too."

With that, his grip fell and he bowed respectfully before entering back into the west wing to meet his adversary.

Belle held back a sob and waited to see if he would return. When he didn't, she maneuvered herself over the balcony and began her dangerous climb down.

…

It didn't take long for Gaston to find the other man. In the front foyer, he stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase. At the peak of the steps stood Lumiere, a little wobbly on his newly recovered legs, but determined.

"Welcome!" Lumiere greeted, his voice thin and pleasant. "Have you lost your way in the woods, Monsieur?"

Unfortunately, Gaston recognized his voice immediately. Not wasting any time, he bellowed, "Tell me where she is!"

"She?" Lumiere feigned confusion to buy time, though it must be confessed that his heart was beating like a hammer. He needed to contain himself. Belle was going to be okay. She was probably on Phillipe already. "Ah. You've lost control."

It was a statement, not a question, and Gaston was in no mood for taunts. Without warning, he brandished his rifle and aimed. Lumiere only had a moment to dodge before the hunter fired it at him, the deafening BANG echoing off the walls. Gaston grinned terribly and pulled the trigger again, only to remember that in his fit of rage, he'd left town without bringing more ammo. His smile twitched. That was all right. He liked close-range hunts. Drawing his sword from its sheath, he vowed to make the other man's death as painful as possible.

On his hands and knees, Lumiere gasped and clutched at his heart. The bullet had struck a pillar inches away from where'd he been standing, scattering wood chips everywhere. "S-Sacre bleu!" he stuttered, shaken by the attack. Lifting his head, he saw Gaston storming up the many stairs, so he quickly got to his feet and took off in the opposite direction of the West Wing. "Run, Mademoiselle! Run!" He cried, pretending that Belle was just ahead of him.

Gaston snarled and followed. "Come back to me, Belle!" he bellowed, his voice reaching incredible heights that could chill even the heart of an executioner. "You are mine!"

'He's gone mad!' Lumiere panted as he continued his trek, dizzied by the ability to run so fast and so far in this short amount of time.

Gaston, who was far superior in build, was quickly gaining on him. Lumiere hastily rounded a corner and entered a random room. Slamming the door shut and locking it, he wheezed and leaned against the frame—only for the blade of Gaston's sword to stab through the wood and slice the side of his neck. A nearly fatal hit. Lumiere blanched and held back a yelp. It felt like he was moving in slow motion as he forced his wobbly legs to take him away from the door and head for the window.

"Come out!" Gaston shouted from the other side of the door as he took another stab. His voice was deafening, even muffled as it was.

Lumiere stumbled to the window and forced it open, his fingers shaking with the latch until it gave way. A torrent of rain poured in and drenched everything within a matter of seconds. Lumiere pressed his trembling fingers against the wound at his throat as he took a deep breath and stole out of the room.

'Another terrible idea,' Lumiere silently chided himself. His human body was still not familiar with the exertion, and it didn't help that the surface of the castle had gone slick from the rain. He almost slipped on a narrow ledge as he rounded the slight curve of the building and pulled himself onto the roof.

Gaston's large hand shot out the window and latched onto his shoe. Lumiere shrieked and clutched a gargoyle, almost falling to his death, but the rainwater managed to slick the leather of his footwear to dislodge the hand. Freed from the death grip, he hoisted himself fully onto the roof and hobbled aimlessly, unsure where to go next.

Blinking rainwater out of his eyes, he tried to catch his breath, leaning over and panting haggardly. His legs were about to give way, they were that exhausted. He hadn't even been running for that long a distance; how was he meant to escape?

He scanned the area. This part of the roof was flat and isolated from the other towers. The only way he could think of getting away was if he crossed the stone beams to a steep drop, and from there he could probably survive the jump to the balcony below. He fell to his wobbly knees, about to collapse from fatigue, wondering if he could even make it.

Before he could ponder over that further, he heard the grunts of the other man as he finally reached the summit to join him on the roof.

Lumiere closed his eyes, resigned. He needed to stall Gaston as long as possible, so with great effort, he stood up as straight as he could and turned to confront him.

"M-Monsieur," he began, freezing at the murderous glint in the other man's eyes. Despite how frightening that was, he tried to remain calm. "W-We've reached the end of the line. You...You've caught me."

Gaston stopped fast, looking about the roof. "Where. Is. She?" He snarled, his hackles rising.

Lumiere bit his lip and shuffled, pretending to think about it. Snapping, Gaston swung his weapon and sliced deeply into the other man's right forearm. He yelped, staggering backward and clutching the wound as Gaston made to push him off the roof.

He held back screams of pain as he plunged down the steep part of the level, coming to a painful stop at the bottom next to a large line of beastly-looking statues. He gasped, eyes popping open as he lay there immobilized on his back, staring at the dark silhouette of Gaston against the stormy skies.

Thinking fast, he applied as much pressure as he could to his wound and crawled to rest behind one of the statues. He sat there, quite disheveled, blood dripping down his arm. His chest heaved as he heard Gaston land just yards away from where he hid.

"Come out and fight!" the hunter bellowed, followed by a clap of thunder as if to emphasize his command. Lumiere wasn't a fool; he knew he was no match for his strength. He stayed right where he was, holding his wounded arm against his waist so that the blood wouldn't drip onto the water-logged ground and flow into the other man's line of sight.

Gaston studied the area, waiting impatiently for the former candelabra to make an appearance. He gritted his teeth and smoothed his soaked hair back. "You can't hide her here forever!" he growled, and then added with a terrible grimace, "Haven't you and your people done enough of that?"

No answer. In a fit of rage, Gaston swung his sword and sliced a gargoyle's head clean off its shoulders. It landed with a crunch, sending sharp pieces of stone everywhere.

Lumiere quickly grabbed a stone shard and stowed it in the sleeve of his good arm. He considered sneaking up on Gaston to try and take him out, but chances of success were slim, so for then, he hid and tried not to take the bait.

"Coward," the man hissed, picking up a piece of the ruined statue and chucking it against the wall. "You're nothing! Do you hear me? NOTHING!" He stopped short, cocking his head to the side. Afraid he'd been found, Lumiere scrambled to his feet ready to run until the faint sound of clopping hooves reached his ears. Belle had made it down! Lumiere sagged in relief despite the sorrow in his heart. Gaston seemed to have realized the same thing because he cursed and began to make his way down to catch her.

Lumiere would not allow it, leaping from his hiding place and tackling the villain to the ground. He needed to keep this horrible man away from her for as long as he could. Gaston shouted in surprise, turning over and kicking the smaller man hard in the face. Lumiere fell back, eyes wide as blood spurted from his nose. He'd forgotten about the pain the human body could endure. He'd forgotten about physical limitations as well, because when Gaston made a second attempt to leave, he forced himself to his feet and charged, throwing both of them off the platform and onto a thick stone beam jutting out of the castle wall ten feet below.

The impact knocked the air out of Lumiere's lungs. He lay there reeling in shock. Gaston fumed, his ankle twisted and smarting with pain, but he was still able to recover quite quickly.

"Yuh...You just don't ever stop...do you?" he hurled at the other man, who was just beginning to stir from the shock-induced trance. Careful not to slip, Gaston lunged forward and grabbed Lumiere's collar, hauling him up so that they were practically nose to nose.

"What do you think you are to her?" he snarled. "Some knight in shining armor? You're a weak, pitiful creature-unworthy of someone like her."

Lumiere glared in defiance even when he was hoisted off the ground. He instinctively grabbed at Gaston's large hand to try to loosen his hold but to no avail.

"You were that Beast's accomplice," the hunter accused. "You and your little company all kept poor Belle hostage, didn't you?" He threw Lumiere to the ground and pinned his throat down with his arm. "You still think you're her keeper, is that it?"

Lumiere gasped as the pressure against his throat increased. "W-We...ma-...mistake!" He forced out. Gaston narrowed his eyes.

"What did you DO to make her want that horrible beast?" he interrogated, putting more pressure down. "Did you threaten her?"

"Urk-!" Lumiere couldn't even speak. His uninjured arm shifted, unveiling the sharp stone shard. Gaston drew his sword and held it to the other man's face.

"You ought to be brought to justice," he growled, "for the Hell you put her through."

Shink. Gaston halted and looked down at his side where Lumiere had plunged the shard in deep. With a throaty scream, he removed his arm from Lumiere's throat to dig out the intrusion, allowing him to scramble back toward the end of the beam and gulp air into his lungs.

Gaston ripped out the shard with a pained grunt and tossed it aside as Lumiere got to his feet.

The two men stared each other down, both panting and bleeding. Lumiere resisted the urge to look behind him where the edge led to a thousand-foot drop into the rocky depths below. Jumping would lead to a swift and painless death, he rationalized, but suicide was the coward's way out. He refused to go out like that. He'd die fighting.

"Sooner or later, your people will realize what a monster you are and disregard your leadership," he shot. "They will realize the error of their ways...and help her. She-She's going to get away from you whether you like it or not."

"You want her for yourself!" Gaston growled, surprised when the other man tipped his head back and guffawed.

"I think the last thing she wants in her life," Lumiere panted incredulously, gripping his forearm to stop the blood flow, "is another man."

"You don't know anything," the hunter snarled, stalking forward. "I should've gutted you earlier, but better late than never!"

Lumiere yelped as Gaston slammed into his chest and forced him to the ground under the heavy weight of his heavy boot. His body skidded backward until he was on the very edge of the precipice. A flash of anxiety spread through him as the adrenaline began to wear off. Soon, he was face to face with the end of the man's sword, sharp and ready to mince him to death.

"It's a shame your legacy will be tainted in weakness."

Lumiere struggled at first, twisting and turning under the brutal weight with the animal desire in him to live, even if he had no chance of getting out of this alive. Then, he remembered that Belle had gotten away and he stopped his struggle. She was safe. That was all that mattered. She would get home, tell his friends what was going on, and hopefully all leave town.

"But that's just exactly what cowards like you deserve!"

Even though this was the end of his time, Lumiere was relieved he hadn't died knowing that he'd never be human, that he'd never given his goodbyes to his dearest friends, that he hadn't given Belle enough time to make her escape. His death at the hands of this madman would not be in vain. Still, he would have loved to see them all one last time before entering God's kingdom. Fifi and his family would be there, ready to welcome him, so...it wasn't all bad.

Lumiere spread his arms out in invitation, resigned but triumphant. He even smiled.

Gaston sneered and poised the sword high above the other man's chest. Lumiere gazed to the side to look at the mountains in the distance, determined to latch onto something beautiful in his last moments alive.

The hunter scowled and started to bring the sword down, but then a small hand shot up from out of nowhere and grabbed the hem of his boot. Gaston faltered-his foot was slipping! He grunted, panicked. Picking up on the struggle, Lumiere made a last-ditch effort to antagonize the man by twisting underneath his boot. He hadn't expected him to completely lose his balance and tumble off the beam, but he did.

Lumiere lay there shocked as Gaston fell out of sight. He didn't see him plummet to the balcony below, but he did hear the body impale onto his sword and perish in a matter of seconds. Lumiere blinked. It had happened so fast that his brain was struggling to register what happened. But then, he heard her sweet voice.

"Lumiere!"

Bless the young woman; she'd never climbed down! Lumiere let out a small laugh in disbelief as Belle gently hoisted him to his feet and helped him limp toward the safer part of the roof: a flat plateau just yards away from where she had come from to rescue him. With a groan, she lowered him to rest against the wall and inspected his bloodied arm. With great care, she ripped a strip of fabric from her apron and wrapped it up.

"Belle-"

"Hush." He noticed her face was streaked with tears and rainwater as she made sure the makeshift bandage was secured. With a haggard sigh, she collapsed beside him. It was beginning to sink in, what had just happened.

"You saved me."

Belle shook her head, and Lumiere realized she was still been upset from when he gave himself up as a distraction earlier. Still, they were safe now. It was hard to imagine.

"But-"

"Shut up."

He laughed exasperatedly and nudged her with his shoulder. "You shut up!"

"Lumiere!"

"Belle!"

Unsteady from what had just occurred, he snickered at the angry expression on her face but grew solemn when her bottom lip trembled, and he realized how disturbed she was.

He took her hand, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, careful around the coagulated wound there. For a while, there was no speaking, just pure embrace between them. Lumiere hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head as she listened to his heartbeat for the first time.

The rain was unforgiving, but they hardly noticed. After a long while, they slowly pulled back. He gazed at her, the emotions he'd guilty bottled up for the last few days come exploding back like a firework. Still, he smiled respectfully and held back. The situation was too damaging, her pain was still fresh-

Belle kissed him regardless of these assumptions, and for the first time in his life, Lumiere was the one who pulled back, eyes wide. He opened his mouth to confirm, to ask if it was okay, but she just put a finger to her lips, which spread into a knowing smile as a light blush dusted her face. Lumiere was beside himself, a million questions swirling about in his mind, but when she leaned in again to press her lips and against his, they all evaporated.

Things were not going to be perfect. Gaston's evil hand had stretched far into the hearts of his victims and the lamenting would last a long while. Perhaps forever. The dark could swallow up a broken heart, but it could mend in crooked ways. Lumiere stroked Belle's cheek and rested his forehead against hers. They huddled together there on the roof for a long time, even as the rain continued to pour.

He was an optimist. Despite the horrid fight, he was ecstatic to get home and reunite with his friends, who were no doubt enjoying their transformations.

"Shall we go?" he asked softly. Belle nodded.

They took great care to leave the castle undisturbed, like exiting a tomb. Lumiere was uncertain if he and the staff would ever return to live here, but when Belle whispered reassurance, he figured that whatever happened, they would all take care of each other.

As the blood of Gaston began to wash away, so did the chance of an unhappy ending.

The End

Author's Note: I want to personally thank every single one of my readers for sticking with me on this long hard journey. Sometimes, I thought about giving up, but you have never given up on me, and for that, I am so grateful. Everyone in the fandom has been more than kind, cheering me on when I felt like I couldn't write anymore, and helping me find mistakes when I failed to.

If it isn't too much trouble, I'd love to hear what you guys thought about the story as a whole. I love feedback, so don't be shy!

Thank you all. God bless.