WHEW! Ok! It's finally done! This is my longest chapter yet and it felt like a monster! But I'm really happy with it and I hope you guys like it! I hope you'll be able to tell that is flashes back and forth between the bast and the present. Also! You'll notice another little Disney crossover, I've re-watched a recent franchise with a certain captain and thought it would be fun to sneak something in, savvy?

Oh and I used some french words from google translate so if they butchered, you know why. And the play that Belle is reading is Macbeth, I think I mentioned in another chapter that it was one of Adam's favorites

Hope y'all enjoy the chapter!

"And then Lumière mentioned that there is cursed Aztec gold!"

A light laugh echoed through the colonnade, the sunlight warm on his skin as he grinned up at his mother. The last remnants of winter were finally fading away, the chill that hung in the air so often gradually growing into warmth. With the warm air brought the the small hints of the gardens blooming, the grass shiney like it never could in the winter months.

It was Adam's favorite time of year. Being able to run outside and roll around in the grass, not having to be cooped up for long hours during the days. The sun stayed out longer which allowed him to explore more. More often than not, he would run outside with a new book and hide away in the maze that was the gardens. Those were the few times that he could get away from his studies without having to meet the disapproving gaze of his father.

Spring also meant that the flowers were beginning to bloom, which was another thing the young boy loved. That meant that his mother would begin to tend to them and he knew how much she loved her flowers. Especially the roses, she adored them beyond any other flower the gardens held.

Her warm eyes found his and he couldn't help but break into a boyish smile, "It's true maman! Lumière told me all about the curse! He said he heard that a ship with black sails roams the...the…," the young boy stuttered, trying to think back to the name. Why did he forget the name?

"The Caribbean, darling?" his mother answered playfully, the thin smile on her face growing as she held back another laugh, "Lumière does have a way with stories doesn't he?"

"But it's true maman, he told me himself! Last time he went to port with some of the other staff, some of the sailors were talking about it!" he declared, "It's one of the fastest ships on the sea!"

A hand, small but powerful, ruffled his hair and Adam grumbled under his breath. His mother loved to tease him when he go overly excited about a story, but he couldn't help himself! She loved the stories just as much as he did. Who else would he share them with?

"Tell me more darling," she urged him, her hand trailing lightly along the edges of the petals of the white roses, "This Black Pearl sounds like a ship not to be messed with…"

The white roses. Against all of the greenier within the gardens, those were always the flower that stood out the most to him. They always caught his eye, something so delicate but also powerful enough to pull his attention away. It was the flower in the garden that his mother paid the most attention to, though she would try and deny it.

They reminded Adam of his mother. Elegant, but with a hidden power to them.

As he sat on the bench, he found himself lost in the story of the ship that could terrorize the sea. It had caught his attention immediately when Lumière came back from his trip. Adventure, the high sea's, those were things Adam thought he would never get to experience for himself. Only fantasies that he would find in books, places where he didn't have to worry about real life. Where he didn't have to worry about one day becoming a king.

"And then Lumière mentioned that the crew would start to become…"

His eyes widened as he watched the rose drop from his mother's hand. It landed softly on the ground and he felt his body begin to shake when he saw something on the petals. Red droplets coated the one side of the once pure white rose and his eyes quickly shot up to his mother.

Jumping up from the bench, he caught his mother as best he could as she fell forward. It was like holding dead weight and he slowly sank to ground with her in his arms.

"Maman?!" he cried, resting her head in his lap. Her skin was almost as white as the rose, her chin covered slightly in blood, and her eyes were closed, "Maman, are you alright?!"

His heart was racing, like it would beat out of his chest. Breathing ragged, in a panic, Adam could do nothing but look down at his mother. Tears, which he hadn't noticed before, begun to roll down his cheeks. What was happening to her, his beloved mother?

"Someone!" he cried, his voice hoarse, "Someone please help! Is there anyone?!"

The white rose sat on the ground a few feet away from them. As the servants heard his cries, they rushed towards them and, without a thought, crushed the flower. They ushered him away from his mother and he stood to the side, hugging himself as his body shook.

He lingered behind the servants as they rushed his mother indoors, kneeling down to the rose. His eyes didn't leave the crumpled flower. Carefully, he cradled it in his hands. Such a beautiful thing, how quickly it was destroyed. Bringing the petals to his chest, his leaned forward and prayed that his mother would be alright. That it was just a fluke, that the world wouldn't take her away from him so quickly.

His prayers went unanswered.

It was dark. Had it always been this dark? It was like being lost at sea with no light to guide him. Everything seem muddled. What had happened?

The small village flashed in his mind, but went away as quickly as it came. He had a trip, for what reason he couldn't remember. He was with someone, two people maybe? But his mind couldn't place it, the faces hidden behind the shadows. It all blurred together, the colors interwoven with the black murkiness he now found himself in.

Something echoed, bouncing off the hidden walls this black prison seemed to have. Like a voice, but it sounded far away. He couldn't make out who was saying it, or what they were saying. Another echo joined the first but it sounded like it was closer. It's tone was warm, familiar. Like he heard it before in a scenario like this one yet he couldn't remember.

A light pressure lingered on his forehead. It was warm, but not the kind of warmth that he felt in this dark sea. A healthy warmth, caring. The hand is small and again it's familiar. Smooth. Who is it? An image ripples across the dark waters, a flash of blue and gold. His mind screamed for him to know who it is, to catch a glimpse of this person. To escape this wretched place.

Light blinded him as his eyes cracked open. It's too much to bear, too painful, and they quickly close again. Slowly, he finds himself fading back to the dark murky waters. Nothing felt like it could reach him here. He was alone.

The faint voices fade away with the tide and he slowly sinks into the water, letting it roll over him. He was so tired, his body weak, and he just wished it would go away.

The room smelt like sickness. It was heavy, dark, like there was no hope. They had given up on her. The doctors, different one's almost every week since she fainted, filed in and out of that room. Each time they brought no news. Or no news Adam wanted to hear.

When they would look at him, their eyes would be filed with regret. A sadness, like they tried to understand how he felt. They didn't know, how could they know? How could they know what it felt like to have the light of your life torn from you? To have the center of your world fade before your eyes?

The doctors forbidden him from going into the room, concerned that he would contract the same illness that had befallen his mother. Each time they would shuffle him away, promising that in the next few days he could go in.

A few days became a week. And the week after that.

Today he wouldn't be denied. He felt it the moment he woke up, the pulling desire to see his mother. A feeling at the pit of his stomach told him he had to before it was too late. She wouldn't be here for long, not with how long she had been sick for. It was only a matter of time and his heart clenched at the thought of a world without her.

Rushing down to the garden where it all begun, he carefully plucked one of the white roses from the vine. He examined it in his hand, mindful of the thorns. She would want this to be by her side.

Watching the doctors leave the room, Adam skillfully snuck through the opened door before slowly closing it. He knew his time would be short, the doctors were never gone long, and he turned.

She was worse than he could have imagined. Slowly, quiet not to disturb her, he walked towards the large bed. Propped up on numerous pillows and buried under blankets, his mother looked like a ghost compared to the woman laughing at his story weeks ago. His hand trembled as he reached out to grasp her's and he hiccuped, holding back the tears he felt well up in his eyes.

"Mother…," he whispered, his voice cracking, "Mother please…."

A light squeeze of his hand almost made him jump, his heart was racing, and his eyes met his mother's. They were cracked open slightly, the blue that used to shine clouded with a haze. The edge of her lips were tugged up in what he thought was a smile, but it was almost unnoticeable.

"Adam...oh darling…," her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment but he watched her fight to keep them open, focusing on him. Quickly, a feeling of dread washing over him, Adam brought up the white rose and lightly placed it in her hand.

"I brought this for you mother," he said as he tried to fight back the tears, his voice soft, "I kno-know how much you love them and I thought…"

A faint laugh escaped her lips, her eyes trailing over the petals and then back up to him, "Oh darling...thank you," she replied, her voice weak, "you always did know...how to cheer me up."

The tears fell, he couldn't hold it back any longer, "Maman, please don-don't leave...I-I wouldn't know how…"

"Oh my sweet boy…," she whispered, squeezing his hand lightly, "I love you...so much Adam. So much more than you will ever know. B-but don't forget that I do. Always."

"How could I ever forget?" he replied with a crack in his voice, a forced laugh, "I-I don't think I could love anyone more…"

"One day...you'll find someone," she assured, a knowing smile on her lips, "And they will love you….as much as I do. The people here Adam...they love you so much. Don-don't forget that. I love you...so much...your stories...your smile...my sweet...sweet...boy…," her voice trailed off, the grip on his hand slowly unraveling, "my Adam…"

The light that danced in her eyes so often faded and he didn't remember screaming for her. He felt himself shaking, trying to tell her not to close her eyes, but it's too late. Hands, heavy and powerful, rest of his shoulder as he's ripped away from his mother. He cries, desperately trying to get back to her, to see her again as bodies crowd around her.

Everything after that is a blur, his body is shaking, his face coated with tears, and he crumbles into himself the moment he's back in his room.

The pain in his chest was like if someone had clawed their way in and ripped his heart out. It was too much for him and he sobbed, the lasting image of his mother playing in his mind over and over.

It takes him a moment to recognize where he is. Eyes cracked open, the light not as blinding as before, Adam felt sluggish. The murky water and dark world he was in before was gone, replaced with colored blurs. His eyes travelled around the area, trying to put the pieces together as to where he was. Something clicked in his mind, he's unsure as to what, and he realized he was in his bed. Which meant he was back at the castle.

Someone was sitting next to the bed on his side. Slowly he turned his head, his vision swimming slightly. For a moment the person is nothing more than golden blurred lines. He squinted, trying to clear his vision, and suddenly the figure came into focus.

Lumière.

It all raced back to him. The trip to the village with Maurice and Lumière, the sick and sluggish feeling he began to feel during the trip. Arguing with the older man about his wellbeing, fighting back the concern the other man showed. After that, it all was blank.

His hand felt like it was weighted down by rocks but slowly he raised it, reaching for the other man. Instantly, he felt the warmth of another hand in his and he fought back a sigh from his lips.

"Lumière…" he said, his voice sounding rather weak and hoarse, "Where are…?"

"The castle sir," the older man quickly confirmed, gently placing the prince's hand back on bed but not leaving his grasp, "We arrived back a few days ago. Belle is down with Mrs. Potts coming up with a new tea to help this fever pass."

Concern laced Lumière voice and a wave of guilt washed over him. He didn't want to be a burden to them. Why did he deserve their love? For so long he had been nothing but cruel. Uncaring. They had reiterated to him, ever since the curse broke, that they loved him and he wanted to believe that.

There was a voice that lingered in his mind that whispered that none of it was true. That they would grow tired of him and leave.

His eyes lingered on Lumière's face and he thinks how he could have doubted them. This self loathing, which Belle frequently teased him about, had blinded him to the people who cared about him. Who would do anything for him and he had tried to block himself out again. To prevent the pain he had become so numb to.

"Lumière...I...I'm sorry I didn't listen to you," his voice faltered, exhaustion creeping over him, "I was just being…"

"Têtu? Hard headed? Négligent?" he rattled off, a hint of frustration behind his voice, "I could go on my young prince."

Laughing faintly, Adam shook his head gently, "I think I get the idea."

He made a clicking noise with his tongue, "A shame, I had a whole list," his tone was playful but his eyes shined with concern. Adam felt a squeeze on his hand, "Sir I...I would hope there to be no "next time" but...if there is, please just tell me. I don't want to…"

Lumière's voice faded off, his head ducking and Adam was unable to see his face. His tone caught the prince off guard, unsure what to make of it. Lumière was a playful spirit, someone who always oozed positivity as they walked into a room. With the snap of his fingers he could put on a show, entertain a whole group of people, and it was always a secret delight of Adam's to watch. It was rare, as he watched the older man now, to see him so serious and a sense of worry gnawed at Adam.

A ticking of a clock was the only sound in the room as Adam watched the man. He felt himself tense, unsure of what was to come. What had Lumière so worked up, surely it couldn't just be him being sick? There had to be something more.

"I was so worried," it was no more than a whisper, but it made the hair on Adam's neck stand up, "You had flown off the carriage and when Maurice and I got to you...y-you were lying on the grass and weren't moving and I thought…"

His eyes shined with unshed tears, his hand in Adam's trembling, "I told you, many nights ago, that I would be willing to listen, no? That if there was...anything you needed to say, you could tell me. But I should have known that it would not be that simple."

Adam's eyes didn't leave Lumière's, loss for words.

"For so long, mon prince, you have kept things to yourself. You have closed yourself off so that you wouldn't be hurt. Because if you were closed off, you could appear uncaring. To defend yourself from your father…," his voice choked up, "you should not have been alone to face that man.

"Before the curse," he pressed on, "I was going to tell you what I'm going to say now. Je suis désolé. I should have been there to help you, not stand by and watch th-that man be so cruel to you. You should have been comforted, not left alone. When you needed us the most...we were not there."

"Lumière, I-"

"S'il vous plait," he cut off Adam, his voice strong but emotional, "let me finish. I will not let you be alone anymore. No one here will. I beg you, don't bury these things. Let us, let me...help you, unlike before. I won't let you hurt like that again. That's a promise."

Adam sat in stunned silence, staring into the tear filled eyes of the former candelabra. He felt himself shaking, the emotion of the words rocking him. It was all so much to process, to understand and he had grown so tired. His eyelids fluttered, trying to close, but he fought to keep them open. He owed Lumière that much.

His body resisted and he knew it was only a matter of time before he fell back into unconsciousness. His body screamed for rest but his mind and heart screamed to talk to this man whom he has trusted all life.

"I-I don't…" he stuttered, unsure, "Lumière…."

A warm smile spread across the other man's face, "You should rest," he whispered, "I can see you fighting it off. It won't work in the end you know."

Eyelids fluttering again, Adam fought back a yawn. There was so much he wanted to say, he had no time for rest. How could he sleep after something like that was said?

His body refused to listen to his mind and he felt himself lulling back to sleep. Squeezing Lumière's hand, he felt a small tear roll down his cheek, "Thank you…" he whispered.

"Of course mon prince," a soft voice replied as his eyes shut, "now try and get some rest."

Escaping the castle was almost impossible now. As a young man, it was thrust upon him to shoulder more responsibility than he had ever before. The process never made much sense to him and mostly he ignored it. His father was always watching him and many times Adam found himself acting out just to spite the older man. From the lavish parties, the girls he would take to bed, and the nights he would drink himself almost to death. Anything to sneer at his father.

Today though, he was lucky. His father was gone, off to do business with some high lord he didn't care about. It allowed Adam the freedom to do what he wanted and as he gazed upon the clear skies, he felt a tug on his heart he hadn't felt in years.

Walking slowly through the gardens, he tried to hide the small smile that tugged in his lips as he took in the flowers. Flowers of every kind were beginning to blossom, some still buds while other in full bloom. Though they weren't as neatly taken care of as they had been in the past, it was still a sight to behold. He had forgotten how calming this area could be, how fresh and lively it felt compared to the rest of the castle. It felt like a small piece of freedom.

His feet came to a sudden stop as he came upon a familiar structure. The colonnade. Compared to the rest of the gardens, it was overgrown, unkempt. Clearly it had not been touched in years, as if someone made it a point to forget about the entire structure. He felt his teeth clench at the thought, anger swelling in his chest.

His father's doing no doubt.

The man wanted almost nothing within the castle to remind him of his late wife. The portrait in the west wing was one of the only things he kept of her. Adam remembered the day his father gave most of his mother's things away or burned them in the fire within the library. A new level of hatred for his father was born as he watched the letter's turn into embers within the flames.

He loathed the man with almost every fiber of his being.

Adam's steps are slow as he walked toward the structure. His mind skipped back to that day long ago, he can see himself sitting on the bench, swinging his legs as he retold a story from Lumière to his mother. He could hear the playful and light laugh his mother let out as he demonstrated his fake sword fighting skills.

Standing in the middle of the colonnade, his eyes rose up and around as he took it all in. The vines had overgrown it slightly, somehow making there way over top the structure. The bench, which once he so delightful state on, looked as if it would break at any moment. His hand trailed over the stone. Turning, his eyes caught a glimpse of white and he felt himself gasp.

The white roses.

Untouched, perfectly bloomed white roses. Like nothing had changed over the years. Taking a step towards the bush, he can't help but feel in awe of the flowers. The roses were still as stunning to look at so many years later.

Carefully, he felt as if he hand was trembling, Adam slowly grasped one of the stems of the rose. He snapped the stem, mindful of the thorns, and turned it over slowly in his hand as he sat down beside the stone bench.

He examined every detail, every petal of the rose. Pure as the snow that was on the ground during a snowstorm not too long ago. His heart ached as he sat there, his eyes flicking back and forth between the structure and the flower. The last time he had seen a white rose, when he held it in his hand…

"I love you so much Adam…"

His breath hitched, the soft and comforting voice of his mother ringing in his head. How he longed to hear it again, her laugh, to see her smile. Everything about her.

Something within him broke, just a fraction. The emotions he had been holding back for so long after her death, to avoid ridicule from his father, burst out of him. Tears welled up in his eyes and blurred his vision. He laughed through the sobs, the sheer ridiculousness of this situation almost too much. Careful not the crush the delicate rose, Adam laid the rose in front of him, covering his face with his hands. His shoulders shook as memories played out in his mind and he was overwhelmed.

Her voice rung in his head as he curled into himself on the grass, letting the emotions out that he had kept hidden for too many years.

"Give me your favour; my dull brain was wrought with things forgotten," a voice, soft and warm, said from beside him, "Kind gentlemen, your pains, are register'd where every day I turn the leaf to read them. Let us toward the king. Think upon what ha-"

"What hath chanced, and, at more time, the interim having weigh'd it," his broke through, eyes opening an inch to catch a glimpse of brown hair, "let us speak, our hearts free to each other."

Belle held back a laugh, her eyes meeting his over the pages of the book in her hand. Their eyes lingered on each other, Adam taking in the small details of her face. How could he not? Everything about her screamed beauty, even her name, and even the small smudge on her nose from what he assumed was charcoal couldn't take away from it. He lifted his hand, it didn't feel as sluggish as it did before, and gently nudged her nose, a smirk tugging on the side of his face.

"Were you drawing again?"

She did laugh at that, laying his hand back on top of the blankets and closing her book, "What gave me away?" she teased, standing up from the chair. She moved off to the side, leaving his field of vision. A clattering came from the other side of his bed, but he was still tired. It had been so long since he felt this weak.

A warm, minty aroma brought his attention back. Belle was back beside him, holding out a small cup in front of him with a pensive look on her face. He knew it well.

Whispering a small thank you, he took the cup and sipped it. The warmth of it spread through his body quickly and he sighed happily, leaning back into the pillows he sat against, "What is it you would like to say my darling?"

"Why do you think I would have anything to say?"

At her dull tone, he couldn't help but roll his eyes as he took another sip of tea, "Please Belle. You always have many things to say. And I can tell by the look on your face."

She moved her chair closer to his bedside, leaning on the covers of the bed to get close to him, "I'm just trying to come up with an answer as to why you didn't tell my father or Lumière that you weren't feeling well."

The answer everyone wanted to know apparently. His eyes trailed away from her's, trying to find the answer himself.

Playing with the cup in his hand, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, "I didn't want to be a bother to them is all. It didn't feel so bad at the time."

A defeated sigh, "Adam…"

"I just," he stopped, his grip on the small cup tightening, "I don't want them to have to worry about me. They shouldn't. They have so much to do, they've worried about me for too long."

He felt her hand on his cheek, leaning into the touch, and his gaze met her's. Her expression was unreadable, her eyebrows furrowed, but he could sense the frustration coming from her.

"You are a stubborn man when it comes to people who love you," she whispered, her thumb rubbing his cheek, "don't you see that? They will always worry about you Adam. They are your family, even if it not by blood. You not saying anything won't make it better."

As it is most of the time, Belle was right. She could see through him so quickly, it still puzzled him why he even tried to keep things from her. But he knew she was right, he just didn't know how to accept it. Ever since his mother died, he dealt with everything on his own.

Things were different now, of course, but old habits died hard.

"I know," he mumbled, "It's just been so long...I'm so used to having to take care of myself. They couldn't help me then."

Belle's hand trailed through his hair, "Because of your father?"

He hummed in response, the thought of the man sent a chill down his spine still. His father was so unlike Maurice, who was loving and caring towards his child. The complete opposite would be how Adam would describe him, a man who expressed little emotion and little care for his only son.

"He was a cruel man who had little time for me," he admitted quietly, "I think they feel guilty, for not being able to help me. But they shouldn't, it is not there fault."

"So the burden is your own?" she questioned, shaking her head, "Adam, you don't have to do that. You were a child. Mrs. Potts and the other's...they believed they could help you but couldn't. Why do you think Lumière said what he told you?"

His words rang in Adam's mind and that swell of emotion he had from that moment creeped into him, "He didn't have to…"

"But he did," she insisted, taking his face in her hands, "Because he cares about you and wants to make up for what happened. You can't take their guilt and make it your own to deal with. It will crush you, don't you see?

"Accept their help Adam. Let them be there for you, let them worry about you. It is their choice."

Her eyes shined with determination. There was nothing he could say that would change how she felt and he knew she was right. They had chosen to stay here after the curse, even when he offered to allow them to leave. The sharp denials shocked him. He had been so certain that they would want to leave this place, to live their lives in a new way. But they stayed and silently he couldn't have been happier.

It would take getting used to. For so long he feared getting the staff in trouble if he even looked at them, let alone talk to them. There was so much he wanted to say to them. Now, in this new life, he didn't have to worry about be berated.

"As always darling, you are right," he said with a smirk, "how did I live without you for so long?"

She laughed, an eyebrow raised with a playful expression, "I think you managed enough."

"You think so?" he asked, "I did get cursed. Not the best way to live life, I can assure you."

"True," she replied, patting his cheek as she slide her hands away, "but then, we wouldn't have met. So it did so some good in the long run."

He grasped her hand before it got to far away, his lips grazing her knuckles. He could feel her shiver slightly and the smirk on his lips grew. It was the small things he loved the most, the little ways he knew how to get a reaction out of her. Leaning forward slightly, he rested his forehead against her's, his eyelids half open as he looked down in her dark brown eyes.

"If I weren't still sick, I'd be kissing you right now…"

He felt her laughter, her head slightly shaking, "Oh I don't doubt that," she whispered, her breath warm against his face, "It's unfair really, you were already gone for a few days and then you come back sick. How could you make me wait?"

"I do apologize mon amour," his hand slowly ran up her arm, carding through the bottom of her hair, "I promise to make it up to you."

"Of that, I have no doubt," she replied with a smile, pressing her hand against his chest. She pushed him back against the pillows gently, "you should rest though. Your fever for the most part is gone, but Mrs. Potts doesn't want to take any chances."

"Of course," he grumbled, his eyelids becoming heavy as he sunk into the pillows. A wisp of white hair flashed in his mind, an aged face with kind eyes, "Belle, your father...is he alright?"

"Papa? Yes he is fine, don't you worry," she squeezed his hand as she moved away from the bed, "He has been worried about you. Once you're better, you two can talk."

"Of course…," he whispered, closing his eyes, "Do you...do you mind staying? I haven't listened to you read in so long."

He thought he saw her smirk and give a reply, but he couldn't be positive. Before Belle begun the next scene, he was lost in his dreams.

Winter never leaves this place. Almost as if the castle was frozen in time. Every day, not matter how long the sun would stay out, nothing would touch the ground but the snowflakes that fell from the sky. No amount of light could melt it away, not matter how hard he wished it would leave.

That didn't mean that it effected the white roses. Somehow, some way, they lived through the bitter cold. He stood before them now, almost entranced. There wasn't much beauty to look at anymore within the castle walls, each day more and more of it broke away. Like a wilting flower slowly dying.

He wouldn't reach for the flower like he had so often before, afraid that he would cause it to die. The beauty of the flowers was too pure for the creature he had become, who he had always been. That realization had resulted in mirrors being smashed to bits, his hands turned paws littered with little cuts.

It was better this way, him out in the cold and his staff in the castle where they could find some kind of enjoyment in each other's company. The thought of joining them had crossed his mind once or twice, but he knew that it would end badly. They would grow silent, unsure of how he would react, and slowly leave one by one. He couldn't blame them.

Most nights he found himself out in the gardens. It brought him the little bit of peace he could find.

Then someone had the nerve to come into his castle uninvited. He watched the older man from afar, within the gardens. The man was close to leaving when he spotted the roses and a fury grew within the once prince. His eyes were on the older man as he walked into the colonnade, mumbling something about getting a flower for someone named "Belle".

Before the man could snap the stem from the vines, he jumped. Landing on the ground, he towered over the man, who now laid on the ground. His eyes were wide, his body shaking, but didn't care. How dare this man come into his home, eat his food, warm himself by his fire, and then try to take one of the only things he had left of his mother?

Without a second thought, he locked the man away and left him there to rot.

The following day, a girl with brown hair stormed into his castle and demanded her father's freedom. From that moment, his life changed forever.

Freedom was a beautiful thing. Adam took a deep breath, the fresh air feeling like a gift as the wind blew through his hair. He had been trapped in his room for far too long, even though he felt much better these last few days. Anytime he asked if he could leave his bed, Mrs. Potts would shoot him a glare so fierce he would immediately apologize for the idea.

Of course he understood why she wanted him to rest more. But it didn't mean it wasn't driving him mad.

Finally though, he had made his escape. Throwing a simple jacket over his loose shirt, he tugged on a new pair of breeches and slid on his shoes before sneaking out of the room. Living in the west wing for so long, he knew each passageway that could get him to the outside without being caught by one of the staff. It would only be for a bit, just to get some fresh air.

Walking through the gardens, Adam caught something in the corner of his eye. The colonnade, but there was someone inside it. Curious, he quietly walked over towards the structure. As he got closer, more detail on the figure came together.

Maurice was on the bench, hunched over himself slightly, and it takes Adam a moment to realize he is sketch something. Lingering behind one of the pillars, he contemplated leaving the older man. He seemed to be focused on whatever he was working on and Adam didn't want to intrude.

"Adam!" the older man's voice spooked him, spinning around to see Maurice waving for him. Had he been seen so quickly? I'll have to work on my sneaking around…

Walking over to the other man, Adam put a smile on his face as he nodded, "I didn't mean to intrude Maurice…"

"Nonsense, you weren't intruding at all, come now, sit," he suggested, patting the spot next to him on the bench, "I'm just happy to see you up on your feet again."

"If Mrs. Potts had it her way," he sat down on the bench, trying to hold back a grin, "I would still be sitting in bed."

Maurice laughed under his breath and the two fell into a comfortable silence. The scratching of his pencil was soothing to Adam, his eyes trailing over to watch. Maurice's hands moved like a blur, slightly more hectic then how Belle tended to draw. It wasn't hard to tell where she had gotten her skill from. though

"Thank you for helping me Maurice," his voice broke the silence, "I apologize for making you worry, I didn't realize how sick I was. It was foolish not to say anything."

The pencil slowed, Maurice's gaze finding his and the older man smiled at him, "There is no need to apologize Adam," he reassured, pausing for a moment. Something was on his mind, though Adam wasn't sure what. It left him on edge and his eyes didn't leave Maurice, "Apologizing seems to be a thing you do a lot lately...it's not always needed you know."

He felt heat rush to his face and he ducked his head, fighting off the embarrassment, "Bad habit…"

"It's nothing to worry about, just something I noticed," he replied, falling silent for a moment. His lips pursed, his eyebrows furrowed, "Would it be alright if I asked you something?"

Blinking, confused, the young prince nodded, "Of course."

"While I was with you, before Lumière came back, you mentioned something about roses…" his voice trailed off and he turned his head and Adam followed his gaze, already knowing where this conversation was heading.

"I don't remember a lot of that, but it doesn't surprise me," he said, a harsh laugh following his words, "I tend to ramble when I'm sick."

"You did seem rather chatty about certain things."

Sighing, Adam ran his hand through his hair. Of course he would mentioned the roses to Maurice.

"They were my mother's. She took great pride in the garden, but her favorites were the white roses. Every spring we would come out to see them bloom and without fail, they would be here," his voice was muted, his eyes not moving from the roses, "when she was gone...they were all I had left."

Maurice watched him, placing his artistic tools aside, and moved closer to his side, "When I lost my wife, there wasn't much of her that I could take with me. The few things I did take though, I would protect with my life," a low laugh left his mouth, shaking his head, "It's my turn to apologize. For trying to take one of the roses from you."

"Maurice, you don't have t-"

"No, Adam, it was not my place to take what wasn't mine, don-"

"Maurice," Adam's voice froze the older man, a smile creeping onto his face, "You taking the flower turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to me. To the staff. It brought Belle here, desperate to find you.

"When I saw you two, how much she loved you and you in return, the envy I felt," he paused, drumming his fingers in his knee, "to see a father love his child so much. It was something I was so unfamiliar with, something I craved my entire life. My father was nothing like you, the complete opposite actually. Cold...distant….he wanted very little to do with me."

"Adam…"

"When Belle pushed you out of that cell, I couldn't believe it. That she would sacrifice her own life in exchange for your's, it was such a foreign concept. I had thought you nothing more of a thief, but I was so wrong," he shook his head, trying to cover the emotion that swelled in his chest, "You are a kind, caring man Maurice. I can see why Belle loves you so much."

Maurice stared at him, eyes flickering around the prince's face, and for a moment Adam isn't sure what to do. His expression was unreadable. He had poured his heart out unexpectedly to Maurice and he felt embarrassed to dump all this baggage on him. Maybe Mrs. Potts was right, maybe he should have stayed in bed and rested.

Arms wrapped around his neck, shocking him from his thoughts, and Adam found his face in the Maurice's shoulder. His body tensed, the sudden body connection stunning him, and he couldn't hide the gasp that escaped his lips.

Slowly, unsure, Adam wrapped his arm's around the other man. His embrace was comforting, warm, so unlike anything he had felt from his father.

"I'm sure you have heard this a lot since you got up," Maurice's voice rumbled in his ear, "but don't think you have to be alone in this. I understand...that these types of things can be difficult to talk about. But know that I am open anytime if you ever need to talk about anything."

Maurice pulled away from him, looking him in the eye with an expression that reminded Adam of Belle, "No parent should treat their child the way your father treated you."

His heart felt let it could burst out of his chest. There was so much he wanted to say but every time he opened his mouth, nothing would come out. Nothing could describe the emotions he was feeling, no words good enough to describe how much it meant to him.

"I….Maurice," he stuttered, his face flushing, ducking his head, "thank you…"

The rest of the afternoon, Adam sat with Maurice. Occasionally they would make conversation, but a comfortable silence had settled between the two. Adam didn't mind. It allowed him to take in the conversations he had over the past few days. The different people in his life reaching out to him. It was so much more than he deserved.

His gaze fell on the white roses that decorated the colonnade. He could still hear the faint laughter of his mother's. It seemed so long ago when she was here with him. When she died, he thought he had lost his entire world.

That was the furthest thing from the truth now. It felt more like a home then it had in years. Bustling with people chatting excitedly, full of warmth that had long been forgotten. There was nothing more he could want in his life.

His mother would always hold a special place in his heart. He thought he had lost it all when he was cursed. But now, with the small family and the love of his life around him, he knew that life had so much more planned for him.