After watching the 2017 movie, I was absolutely smitten by everything about it. So I spent about a month drafting a plot, and now, you can have my potential storyline of a sequel. What I'm aiming for here is longer chapters but fewer updates, since this story would have less than fifteen chapters. Before we actually go on, I need to establish some stuff because of the lack of explanation in both the 1991 and 2017 versions of the film when it came to the curse. But this is all speculation over the most logical thing that could happen.

First, the logistics. Adam would be immortal if he could not find someone to break the curse. I will assume that he was turned into a beast at age twenty-seven (presumably, I don't know), but is actually thirty-seven, biologically speaking. He will only continue to age after the curse is broken, so he still looks like a twenty-seven year old.

Second, the rose. The rose has a time limit of ten years; meaning if Adam could not find anyone to love/anyone who would love him in return within ten years, then he would become a beast forever. That means that Belle was only a kid when he was cursed (about ten years old), and she was twenty years old when she broke the curse over the castle.

Third, the servants. The objects are the only people allowed to age; a more specific version of this would be the existence of Chip. Assuming that he was a baby or something by the time the curse rolled around, then he would be about ten years old by the time the curse ends. So the Enchantress cursed a baby.

The rest of the confusing canon stuff will be explained throughout.

This story is set approximately two months after the curse is broken, in the month of November. This is assuming that since the movie starts in June, and Belle is locked up for about three months, meaning the curse is broken in September, and two months pass, so we start November. For this chapter, I tried doing as much research on wedding etiquette and titles during the late 18th century. So if you know more about this topic, please feel free to share your knowledge in a comment.

Sorry about this leviathan of a first chapter. I was willing to split it into two, but then it wouldn't be as free-flowing.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Beauty and the Beast; it is strictly the property of Disney.

Up to the months leading to the first day of snow, the temperature around the province was cold. The chimneys of Villeneuve burned all through the chilly days, and the castle's fireplaces were alight during the frozen nights. The trees in the forest had shed all their green leaves until they were bare, their crooked branches reaching up to heaven, and the horses and carriages trotting up to the Prince's residence crushed the hues of red, orange, and yellow on the forest floor.

The first snowfall was discovered on a crispy mid-November morning, when the castle staff awoke to sheets of white coating the hectares of gardens surrounding the Prince's estate. The winter season was a reminder to them of just how permanent the snowfall could have been, if a blessing from God by the name of Belle hadn't come and rescued them from inanimate servitude, potentially forever. And the moment they saw the snow, they felt nothing but relief that soon after it would be spring.

Adam looked outside his bedroom window, the weather blanketing the landscape outside, the glass of his windows freezing to the touch against the human skin of his fingers. The day had barely begun, so the sun was just a little bit over the horizon, bringing a little bit of warmth over the view. He remembered that not so long ago, in a winter much like this one—albeit it was one that came from a curse, he stood out there in the snow, his fur enough to keep the cold at bay, petting Philippe with a monstrous paw. Then as he looked up, the sharp but playful sting of a snowball hit him square in the jaw. And he looked up to see her, laughing at him from the stairwell.

A knock resounded from the door to bring him out of his thoughts.

"Come in," he replied.

The door opened with a creak, and a cart rolled in, followed by a woman with greying hair but a maternal glint in her eyes. It was almost a relief to see her staring back at him with her arms pushing the cart instead of it moving on its own, and to see that the tea set had no faces or talking mouths.

"Good morning, Master," Mrs. Potts said, smiling at him. "It's quite the chilly day, isn't it?"

He nodded at her. "The snow's arrived, finally. I've been waiting for it to come."

Mrs. Potts stared at him as she poured a cup of tea. "Really? I thought that you would have grown tired of seeing the snow. After all: it's the only thing you saw out the windows for nearly ten years."

What she said was true, however. There had been a part of him that dreaded the first snow before it came, because he feared it would bring back memories of his beastly, monstrous self looking down from one of the spires, during one of many and many a lonely night. But luckily, some of those miserable times were flooded with joyful moments with a brown-haired, bright-eyed bibliophile of a funny girl. He was grateful that at least he wouldn't have to suffer a winter season with those events coming back to haunt him.

The silence that he gave Mrs. Potts was enough for her not to continue the conversation.

"I tried knocking on the dear thing's door," Mrs. Potts went on, going into a subject that she knew Adam would indulge in more. "She's fast asleep! Probably took one of those books from her library to her bedroom and read until she dropped."

Adam couldn't help but chuckle a little at that. Every morning, he visited the library and he could almost feel like some of its parts were missing and tucked away under her pillow in her bedroom. Sometimes there were mountains of books on the tables, open in some pages, bookmarked in many, and there was a number of them set to one side with notes and pieces of paper inserted into the leaves. It was growing messier and neater at the same time; every time he passed by the shelves she was done sorting, they were all neatly arranged: by author, title, and year published. It was almost incredible, how she managed to do it, when he used to have little to no patience for remembering where he placed a book in that behemoth of a library.

"Sometimes I feel like that library is no longer mine," he joked, smiling like an idiot. "But it would have been such a waste if it was never put to good use. I'm glad she's making the most out of it."

From the corner of her mouth, Mrs. Potts' mouth lifted up in a tiny grin as she put in two spoons sugar. "It's been two months, Master."

And the joy immediately disappeared from his face as fast as it came, revealing an expression of discouragement. "I know."

"And you're running out of time."

He breathed a sigh of exasperation. "I know."

"Has Lumière harassed you about it this morning yet, or have I beaten him to it?"

"No; you were here first." He walked over to her as she handed him his hot tea, and he took it carefully, as if the teacup was still the young boy Chip, and drank a few sips from it. Then he stared at the beverage, drunken halfway, before putting it back on the tray. "Every morning, I say I'm going to do it. And every night, I go to bed, reprimanding the coward that I am."

Mrs. Potts' teasing face melted away to reveal a maternal one. "Don't say that. Being afraid of her reaction or denial is something normal. Courtship isn't a walk in the park, Master; it's strategy, and kind gestures done every moment of every day."

"And I have been doing those things, ever since…then," he gestured to the side instead of saying the dreaded word. "The library, the dance, even letting her go to see her father and all the things in between…those don't count?"

"Of course they do. And that's why she's still here, that's why she still loves you. But it takes a little bit more than that. Believe me, Master, it seems that there's always more to sacrifice."

He put a hand to his face and sighed into it, tired. The touch of flesh against his visage was something he was still getting used to, even two months after everything.

Mrs. Potts smiled, the edges of her eyes crinkling like they always did. "The staff's pressuring you because we believe it's the right time. Besides, do you have anything to lose?"

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then lost it right as it reached the edge of his tongue. Like many mothers, Mrs. Potts was right about things he previously thought was wrong, and was even more right on things that he thought was more wrong.

"What makes you hesitate?" Mrs. Potts asked again.

"She's always been the adventurous type," Adam spat out without thinking twice. "What if she feels that it will chain her down? Or if she isn't ready for it?"

Mrs. Potts waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, posh tosh. You're too busy thinking about all these possibilities when you've never even tried."

He sighed as he thought about it, then stroked his beard; ever since she had teased him about growing stubble during that celebratory ball after the curse, he had never cut his facial hair, and it grew into a fuzz that ate at the skin of his face. There was silence in his room until he gave a defeated sigh.

"Alright, tonight…" he said finally. "I'll try again tonight."

"You've said that so many times, I'm wondering if you've gotten those exact words in memory," Mrs. Potts gave off a chuckle. "I just hope this attempt goes well on this round."

For a moment, his blue eyes shone with a little light of determination. "I hope so too."

The clock in the hallway chimed at nine in the evening, and Cogsworth jumped in shock at the first chime, still fearing that the sound might have come from inside him. Lumière couldn't help but chuckle a bit into the sleeve of his shirt for Cogsworth's antics, but the latter shot him a look and suddenly the maître d' was silent and rigid. Mrs. Potts shushed them both, and all three of them watched as Adam paced back and forth nervously in front of a bedroom door, wringing his hands and constantly tugging on the sleeves of his banyan. His eyes darted everywhere and he constantly licked his lips, mumbling to himself like a madman.

"Master, just relax!" Lumière smiled his debonair smile. "I'm sure the mademoiselle would not mind that you would want to talk to her."

"I rather thinks she enjoys your company, actually," Cogsworth added.

But Adam ignored them and simply exhaled nervously, still prowling around like an anxious wreck.

"Come, pull yourself together," Mrs. Potts encouraged him. "You said earlier this morning that you could do this."

"I said that earlier this morning," Adam snapped his head at them and said his part quickly before going back to his restless state.

Throughout the whole day, he found witty and funny things to say to her, and plotted in which way the conversation would go to get it to where he wanted it to be. But standing in front of the trial now made his knees tremble and the words slip out of his memory little by little. Only by murmuring them to himself repeatedly was he able to at least retain some of their coherence. Lumière, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts all exchanged concerned glances.

"Alright, here we go," Adam breathed quietly, stood in front of the door, and raised a knuckle, closing his eyes as if he was ready for a guillotine blade to come down upon his throat with a sickening chop.

But he heard two women's chatter come to a halt as he stood close to the door, and his acute hearing could pinpoint that one of them had already stood up in attention. His fingers began to shake and the three staff members behind him frantically shook in alarm.

"Go!" Cogsworth pushed Lumière down the hall so that they could all begin running. "Go, go, go!"

Lumière barely could get on his feet, but Cogsworth continued to shove him and Mrs. Potts picked up her skirts and ran down to follow them as fast as her legs could carry her, until all three of them vanished from sight. That should have been one burden lifted off his shoulders, but he heard a voice from inside the doors that made him freeze in place.

"I could have sworn I heard Cogsworth out there," a young lady's voice echoed through the doors. "Hold on, Madame, I'll see what's going on."

Adam's thoughts went immediately to running after Lumière, Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts, away from the situation, as he heard the footsteps approach him, spared from shame and every other embarrassing emotion. But the moment the doors to the bedroom opened, his feet were anchored in place and he sighed as he clenched his fists, praying to the heavens that the already worst night of his life (apart from all those other nights as a hideous monster) wouldn't get even more disastrous.

Then a voice he was both relieved and terrified to hear spoke up clearly. "Cogsworth?"

A fair face came through the open door, followed by a swirl of a simple blue dress, up until the figure of what he had come to know was his entire life filled one half of the doorway. But upon seeing him stand there, her eyes perked up in surprise and her face went red. Then she smoothened out her shirt and tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, smiling at him bashfully (as if she needed to look more beautiful than she already did). His heart melted and a sigh left his lips without his knowledge, and just like that, every single witty saying he embedded into his memory vanished, and he was suddenly a fool again.

"Oh! Adam," she greeted, bowing her head a bit. He could hear from the way that she said his name that she still wasn't quite used to it yet, as she had a habit of calling him titles such as 'Your Highness' in the past. "Good evening. I thought I heard Cogsworth out here; what a surprise that it's you."

"Hello, Belle, I…" he started, but if the way her lovely voice said his name didn't turn his mind to mush, then her beautiful eyes definitely did the trick. "I…I came here to…"

She laughed quaintly, and he swore to God that he was willing to pluck the stars down from heaven and they still couldn't compare to the brightness of her smile and the mirth in her giggle. The heat came back to his face and burned his cheeks; he could only chuckle with her to attempt to lessen his embarrassment.

"I'm guessing you want to try and form a complete sentence?" she finally said after she was done.

"I just…came here to…" and he began to bail, running a hand through his long hair; come on, think of something, think of something— "…to tell you how lovely your room is. It's gorgeous."

Her brows furrowed, but she smiled just the same. "Well, you should thank yourself; it's your castle, after all."

Oh. A worried laugh left him. "R-Right…a-and it's a lovely castle, isn't it?"

She crossed her arms; he was wrong to let her play the fool. "Adam, what are you really here for?"

"I…" with a sigh, he gave up, shaking violently. "Belle, I just…I wanted to…God, I-I can't even say it."

Her smile faded away and she took a hand, pressing a hand to Adam's cheek as she took a step forward. Her touch was always sent a pleasant feeling glowing through his body, and it felt newer and more magical every time she reached out to him. It was like the first time she held him, when she was clothed in gold and he was still a monster, dancing across the ballroom and looking into his eyes as intently as she did now.

"Then collect yourself and say what you have to, slowly," she said, enunciating every syllable with care.

He wet his lips and felt her soft skin trace through the makings of his beard, reaching up to stroke his nape. Her face was not too far from his own. "I just…" What should he even say? That he loved her? That seeing her so enthusiastic about the library made his spirits soar? That he was standing there, like a fool in front of her door, to say from the very bottom of his being: 'Belle, would you marry me?'

But that didn't come out.

"I wanted to see you."

Wow, that was extremely pathetic, you 'debonair' prince.

The moment the first word left his mouth, he knew he was going to regret it. He could practically hear Cogsworth hit his palm on his face and Lumière cringe in second-hand chagrin. The Prince shut his eyes for a long while and wished that the world would stop existing for a moment, or at least until the burning sensation of shame left his body.

To make it worse, she giggled. Then laughed. Then guffawed loud enough for the entire castle to hear, probably. He felt himself blush as she threw her head back; yes, the sound of her joy was alluring, but he couldn't help but feel she was gaining happiness from his mistakes. But then her bright eyes locked with his and, for the thousandth time, he fell in love with her, like he did all those lonely months ago. She took his face in her hands and planted a soft kiss on his lips; and though it was brief, the taste of her was something so familiar and yet something he craved for constantly, that feeling it back into his system reinvigorated him somehow.

"You are adorable, and you simply must know that," Belle hugged him tight and whispered into his shirt. "Do you know how grateful I am to have you in my life?"

He couldn't say anything to return the flowery nature of her words, to reply in a compliment that was just as lovely as her. But the first thing that came naturally to his mind as he wrapped his arms around her was: "I love you."

"And I love you," she replied, taking his hands in hers as they broke from each other. Her touch was soft, delicate and beautiful, almost like the roses that the gardeners maintained, and that would bloom devoutly in the spring.

"Well," he slipped his hands carefully from her touch and gave a short bow. "Since that's over, I think we should part ways for the night. I have other business to conduct."

She gave a wide smile. "Then goodnight, Adam."

And for a moment, the smile he returned to her was genuine as well. "Goodnight, my love."

Before any of them could say another word, she disappeared as the doors to her room closed behind her with a loud thud, a sound that reverberated through the empty hallway, leaving Adam standing there, alone, with nothing but the ghost of her lips on his. For once, he felt rather satisfied with himself, until the hard and painful truth hit him on the back like a frying pan to his cranium.

From around the corner of the hall, Lumière, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts emerged, looking frightful and anxiously eyeing the Prince as he stared out at Belle's door, motionless, while his staff swirled around him like excited children at a fair stall.

"Master, what happened?" Lumière inquired quickly. "Did she say yes? Did she say no? Did she tell you to wait?"

"Did she reject you?" Cogsworth asked. "Was she already engaged to another man?"

"I heard her laughing; was it good laughter?" Mrs. Potts followed. "Or did she laugh at you for something else?"

As they waited for their answers, Adam opened his mouth, and they held their breath in anticipation until the answer came down on them like a crashing wave on a dry shore.

"I am the most idiotic prince to ever walk the face of the earth."

Belle walked back into her room and sighed, spinning around before settling down on her bed to pick up her copy of The Canterbury Tales to tuck under her pillow as Madame de Garedobe watched her, sitting on a stool. The young lady flopped back on her bed in delight and sniffed at the sheets, smiling, blushing furiously as if in a euphoric daydream. Her radiant expression of joy and bliss was brightened by the many candles and chandelier that lit the room well.

"You're looking rather pleased with yourself," the Madame commented, a sly smile growing on her lips. "Was it Cogsworth at the door?"

"No, it was the Prince," Belle swooned, opening her eyes and gazing at her intricately detailed ceiling.

At the name of her master, the lady-in-waiting covered her mouth with her hands and gave off a delighted gasp, as if her husband had suddenly asked to marry her again. "Oh my, well isn't that a surprise? Whatever was he here for?"

"He just…" Belle got up and sat on her bed, running a hand through her hair as her face flushed. His stuttering words and nervous disposition was something that was more than lovable, and thinking about it made her stomach flutter and her head spin. "He wanted to see me."

Madame de Garderobe squealed in delight and stood up, dancing about the room. "What poise, what affections! What a man indeed! Oh, isn't he romantic?"

Belle gave off a little giggle as Madame de Garderobe went about and exaggerated her movements. Her theatrical personality really did make her one of the more entertaining castle staff to chat with.

"You know," and the singer sat down on her chair, "you're incredibly lucky that he's generous, benevolent, and caring now that he loves you." The Madame paused for a while and looked out the window, where the snow began to fall. "It was…different before."

Belle's smile faded a little as she followed her gaze to see flecks of white descend from the heavens. It was perhaps the only remnant of the weather the servants were all used to seeing for ten years. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, darling, I'm sure the other staff have told you stories. Of how the Master was like back before the curse transformed him, both inside and out."

Belle nodded solemnly. "They told me he was 'spoiled, selfish, and unkind.'" At those last words, she pitched her speech down as if to emulate the Beast's low voice, to which the Madame gave off a little laugh; it did sound silly when it wasn't her master's. "Though you all still seem so in shock that he's changed so much. I believe anyone can change if they put their heart to it. It may have been hard for him, but it isn't impossible."

"But to us, for a moment, it did seem impossible…" Madame de Garderobe thought awhile on how she was to say it. "He really was another person, my dear. He was—as Mrs. Potts used to put it—still a monster before he truly became one."

Now that was something that Belle herself had to pause to think of. The servants treated the Prince with respect, there was no denying it, and they would die if it meant his life would be spared. But to hear them speak about him like that of his past self was truly something that alarmed Belle.

"I want to ask him," she said, "but I feel like it'll be something too personal for him to talk about."

Madame de Garderobe looked uneasy.

"Can you…" Belle hesitated, "can you tell me a story about him? From before?"

The Madame pondered for a while, then fixed how she sat on the stool as she told her tale. "Well, I do have one. A romantic tale, if you will.

"A few years before the curse was cast," she began, "the Master was quite the sybarite, and I believe you're aware; overindulging in wine, women, and other worldly things. So it wasn't a surprise to us all at the castle to discover that he was the subject of gossip for all the young maidens in Villeneuve, especially since he was seeing a trio of young ladies girls there. How my memory fails me! I forgot what they were called…Dimbettes? Trimletts?"

"Ah," Belle recalled, "the Bimbettes."

Belle remembered those three brunettes she often saw gawking and swooning at Gaston every time he was at least a few feet within the area. How odd was it that the Prince had an encounter with them once? Belle tried to deny the jealousy that brewed in her stomach; after all, he was hers, and she was his. They lived in their own happily ever after, so why was she beginning to grow upset?

The Madame snapped both her fingers suddenly, making Belle jump a bit. "That's it, the Bimbettes! So anyway, he visited them every night, and he'd have them draped around his arms at a local tavern, as they sighed at his handsome good looks at roguish charm." The singer tapped Belle's nose lightly, with a bounce in her movements. "And you thought you were the only one who could love a beast!"

"If he was as handsome as you say he was," Belle argued, hiding a grin, "I think most women might have disregarded the fact that he was a pompous snob."

Madame de Garderobe threw her head back chortling. "Oh, dearest, how you make me laugh! But apparently, they used to be the fawners of a lad named Gaston—I believe he was the fellow that lead the mob up here? The dreadful man!"

Belle nodded. And here she thought that all memories of that brute of a human were in the past.

The Madame continued. "I think the Gaston lad was a young man then, no older than twenty, perhaps. And one night, he entered the tavern, and seeing the Master showered with his own women drove him furious! There was screaming and shoving and wine spilled, and I remember there was even a threat of a sword duel! Bless our lucky stars it never pushed through!"

Belle's eyes widened. She could only imagine in her wildest dreams her dear Adam picking up a sword and brandishing it carefully before an opponent. Of course, like he always said, he had an 'expensive education' and there was no doubt that combat was something he had to be prolific in, but her apprehension still lingered there. She never had to worry about him defending himself as a beast (with the exception of that fight with Gaston on the turrets of the castle), but he was much more vulnerable as a human.

"What the Master did, instead was something…" Madame de Garderobe tried to find a way to put it, but it all ended in vain, and she threw away with a shake of the head. "He wrote a letter to the military requesting that Gaston be stationed in the far south for the war. And he would be stationed there for years, could you believe, only going home when the war ended. That way, he would have stayed out of the Master's hair for enough time to enjoy the Bimbettes until he was tired of them."

Belle looked at her hands, hands that had held a once fiendish man close to her. How could the man she loved, the Beast and the Prince, do something that horrible in his old life? How could a human being be capable of doing something so cruel? True, Gaston should deserve the misfortunes coming to him, but to even provoke someone as bad as Gaston was…

"And, as we expected, he lost interest in those girls early on," Madame de Garderobe's tone had a tint of regret. "A few months later and he broke their hearts as quickly as he stole them. Luckily, when the curse was cast and everyone forgot us, that included Gaston and the Bimbettes. And when that Gaston returned from the war, he went back to…well, doing whatever he was doing before."

Belle rolled her eyes. "You mean courting me."

"Well, maybe he didn't forget this castle completely!" the Madame shrugged. "After all, he came with that mob to kill the Master." And the singer shivered with the thought.

Belle flopped down on her bed and tried to trace another pattern in her ceiling using her imagination. "But…I still can't believe Adam would do something like that. I know, Gaston can be quite irritable and could annoy someone to death, but I never thought that they knew each other before, and that Adam could…"

She couldn't finish that sentence and bit her lip instead, remembering that she kissed the very mouth that had probably challenged the man she hated to a duel, where either of them could have died. The taste of him was still there on her lips, and she could still feel the ghost of his arms wrapped around her shoulders.

And yet, she still loved him, Beast or no Beast, Prince or no Prince. Just learning how much he's changed—either for the curse or for her—really made her see him in a whole new light. Madame de Garderobe wasn't the only person she had inquired for stories of the Prince's past: she had asked Lumière, Cogswoth, Mrs. Potts, Plumette, even Cadenza about what he was like before the Enchantress altered his life forever. The servants revealed little, but they revealed enough for her to conclude that if she had met him before he had been cursed, then she would have detested him more than she used to detest Gaston. And it was incredible, how completely he had turned around. To love someone whom everyone thought was unlovable. It was a feat she had to be proud of, it was a feat that he loved her for doing.

"We felt that way before too," Madame de Garderobe soothed her troubled thoughts. "But he's a new man now, and it's all thanks to your love." She ran a hand through Belle's hair and gave her a motherly smile. "How lucky we are that the lady who grew to love our master wasn't a Bimbette: a lover of beauty and only beauty."

"You didn't have to worry at all, Madame," Belle's eyes brightened as she took the singer's other hand in hers. "I fell in love with him from the moment he said that he hated Romeo and Juliet."

As he expected, after that incident, Adam couldn't bear to face Belle again. The night after, he passed her room, only cringing at what he had done as he recalled her kiss, the reprimands of Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth, and the flamboyant but utterly useless advice from Lumière on how to be a gentleman. But he dismissed them all and went into bed screaming into his pillow and hitting it out of rage, so much so that he wasn't surprised to see feathers littered all over his mattress the next morning.

It was Lumière who had came to give him his morning soup to his bedroom, and they both kept quiet as he finished his bowl. Then when he handed the dish over to maître d', he would have expected that his chatty and debonair personality would have commented something about the events that had unfolded, but he left without a word. It was disturbing for the both of them, and that much Adam knew.

As a Prince, Adam knew everything there was to know about etiquette and how to approach an unmarried woman, but doing it without the assistance of his lavish lifestyle and good looks was a challenge. Most women swarmed to him before because of his riches, handsome face, title, or all three, and Belle was perhaps the only person in the world who was able to see past all of that, because she saw him at his most vulnerable, deprived from all the things he used to hold dear. And he was thankful that there was someone who loved him for who he really was: a human being in need of true affection.

That night, sitting in his room as he heard the clock from down the hall chime eleven times, he flipped through one of his favourite books, The Castle of Otranto, and began to read under the lighting of the candelabras around his room.

"Your behaviour is above your seeming," said Manfred, viewing him with surprise and admiration – "hereafter I will reward your bravery – but now," continued he with a sigh, "I am so circumstanced, that I dare trust no eyes but my own. However, I give you leave to accompany me."

Manfred, when he first followed Isabella from the gallery, had gone directly to the apartment of his wife, concluding the Princess had retired thither. Hippolita, who knew his step, rose with anxious fondness to meet her Lord, whom she had not seen since the death of their son. She would have flown in a transport mixed of joy and grief to his bosom, but he pushed her rudely off, and said –

"Where is Isabella?"

"Isabella! my Lord!" said the astonished Hippolita.

"Yes, Isabella," cried Manfred imperiously; "I want Isabella."

"My Lord," replied Matilda, who perceived how much his behaviour had shocked her mother, "she has not been with us since your Highness summoned her to your apartment."

"Tell me where she is," said the Prince; "I do not want to know where she has been."

"My good Lord," says Hippolita, "your daughter tells

He was interrupted by a knock on his door, and as he called "Come in," Chapeau poked his head through the doors to his bedroom and offered a gentle smile.

"Is it a visitor?" Adam asked.

At this, Chapeau nodded.

With a sigh, he put his book back down on the table and donned his banyan, then followed Chapeau through the doors and through the castle. He noticed that the path they were talking was one to the foyer, that most of the servants had vanished from the corridors, and the candles that lit the hallway dimly and eerily, almost reminding him of how dark his abode used to be. As he ran a hand through his long hair, from the adjoining hallway, another figure emerged and began to walk alongside him, and he was a little bit sleepy, because he was not able to recognise who it was immediately.

"Belle?" he yawned. "What are you doing up this late at night?"

"Chapeau told me there was someone at the door," Belle replied. "He asked you to come too? I wonder who the guest is; after all, he asked for both of us."

But they didn't have to wonder long, because the trip through the massive castle was faster through the winding passageways and stairwells. Waiting there in the foyer, by the door, was a cloaked figure, whose guise was hidden by a hood. As Chapeau went down the stairs ahead of them to greet the guest, Adam couldn't help but feel that the way the hooded guest moved was very eerie and familiar, like he encountered someone like this many nights before. Then it dawned on him; he froze in place, eyes wide, gripping the balustrade of the main stairwell until his knuckles whitened. Belle raced down ahead, but stopped and frowned at her Prince when he didn't move.

"Adam?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that he can't greet a returning guest properly," the hooded figure said, with the honeyed and calm voice of a wise lady.

Belle turned around as Chapeau led the guest forward, and a hand emerged from the black cloak to pull back the hood. Out emerged the lovely face of a woman, with beautiful blonde hair and stunning eyes, smiling vibrantly at the two who had come to greet her. A face he never expected he would see walk through those castle doors. It kept him in place and he suddenly forgot how to breathe. From the corner of his eye, he saw Chapeau exit through the left hall after a bow; if only he was given the privilege of an excuse to get out of this one too.

Meanwhile, Belle gasped with joy and ran over to hug the woman, while Adam stood there, paralysed. He didn't know if it was because of her presence that his legs began to shake, his jaw clenched and he didn't feel like moving a single inch. And why, of all things, was Belle so cordial with the woman who could have damned him to an eternity of loneliness and loathing?

"Oh, it's so good to see you, Agathe," Belle broke from the woman and held her hand. "I hope you're not too cold from the snow."

Her name was Agathe?

"I'm fine, my dear, I've had my fair share of staying outside castle doors." And at this statement she smiled at Adam, who only could grimace. Now wasn't the time to be reminded of his past misdeeds.

"Adam, why don't you come down here and greet her?" Belle asked.

He gave off an uncomfortable grin at Belle. "You do know who this woman is, don't you?"

Belle blinked curiously at the Prince, then it came to her that Agathe wasn't exactly a person he'd like seeing again. "Well…yes. She's told me plenty about your life before the curse. And I don't think that an old woman like her is capable of moving from one end to of the plaza to another in the blink of an eye without some tricks up her sleeve."

The Enchantress could only grin at the Prince. Belle knew about everything? He walked down a few steps, stupefied at how his love knew the truth of who this woman was, and yet was friendlier to her than she was to him in her first days of staying in the castle all those months ago.

"Agathe," Adam greeted indifferently once he descended down the stairs, avoiding her eyes and clasping his hands obediently in front of him. "What brings you back here?"

The woman gave off a genuine smile. "I just came to see how our Prince is doing." Then she turned to Belle. "Is he treating you well?"

"Oh, much more than well," Belle said earnestly. "He treats me like…well, a Princess."

Agathe's brows hiked, and she looked at Adam intently. It was almost as if her eyes could convey verbal messages to him without her having to say a word. And as she gazed at him, it was like he could hear her voice echoing in his mind. 'You haven't proposed to her yet?'

Adam shook his head and Agathe gave him a sly smile in return. Ah, there was the feeling of humiliation bubbling down in his stomach. How he hated it.

"That's good to hear," Agathe said aloud. "Don't worry, Your Highness, I'm not here to put a curse on this house again; it seems as if you've learned your lesson well."

He gave a sigh of relief, though he wasn't sure what to feel around her. True, she had condemned him to ten years of suffering and sorrow, but without the curse and without his ghastly appearance back then, he would have never met Belle, and he would have never learned to love her as he did now.

"Then…" Belle frowned a bit, "what are you here for?"

"I came here to simply inform you two," Agathe began, "that I will be departing from Villeneuve. Business calls me up to the north and I must attend to it. It will only be temporary, and I will return soon."

"You're leaving?" Belle frowned, and her voice was a clue that she was upset at her sudden words.

Agathe nodded. "Don't worry, my child. You won't even notice I'm gone. But, in the meantime…" She reached into her long black cloak and brought out a few books, and at the sight of them, Belle's face brightened. "Here, a gift for you. After all, you did always ask about how magical spells worked."

Her hand went over the cover, a beautiful yellow book with the title bound in an iridescent like-colour: The Nature of Spells and Magicks.

"Oh, thank you, Agathe!" she squealed in delight, holding the book close to her chest. "Thank you very much! I'll treasure this for as long as I live."

Adam gave a smile as well; seeing her happy was enough to make him happy as well.

"Ah, and don't think I didn't bring anything for you, Your Highness," Agathe said suddenly, and Adam's brows arched. The Enchantress brought him something? Then when was the sky going to fall?

She reached into her cloak and brought out a basket, and how a basket managed to fit inside her invisible pockets was far beyond a question that Adam wanted to inquire about as he took it gently from her hands. It was a thing of wicker with a lid on top, and it wasn't as heavy as he thought it would be.

"They aren't enchanted, if that's what you're going to ask," Agathe said cautiously to him, with a tinge of mischief in her voice as she walked to the door. "Oh, and in your book, Theodore is Jerome's long lost son."

Adam's brows furrowed, trying to review the plot of Horace Walpole's work. "Theodore is…then that must mean…wait, what?"

Before he could ask her more questions on whether Manfred was to end up mad in The Castle of Otranto, the doors to the Prince's estate opened wide with a wave of Agathe's hand, and a gust of cold winter wind blasted into the foyer and extinguished some of the candles. The Enchantress smiled back at the couple, and as Belle waved goodbye, the doors slammed shut automatically. Adam and Belle stood there in silence for a while to soak in the conversation that had just happened.

"What did she get you?" Belle asked curiously, looking at the basket.

To answer both their questions, Adam lifted the lid off and once he saw what was inside, groaned in exasperation, as Belle threw her head back and laughed both at his reaction and the gift the Enchantress had given him. Inside the basket were about a dozen red, blooming, vibrant roses.

The morning sunlight wafted through the large windows of the library, and the fireplace was just enough to make the huge room a little bit warm. The snow from last night was still falling, and it dotted the windowpanes with curling frosty patterns, blanketing the landscape outside. A quarter of the shelves in the library were fixed neatly, with aligned spines arranged accordingly, but the rest of it was haphazardly disastrous, with books stacked on top of one another, some jammed in the spaces between, and others yet in the wrong place entirely.

Between the areas of order and disorder was the ladder where Belle stood, on one foot at the last tier, with a napkin tied around her head to keep the hair out of her face, while her skirts were hitched up to her belt in order to make hiking up the steps easier. She removed the pencil from her ear as she took out a piece of paper from one of her many pockets, scribbling down the titles of the authors she saw on the spines.

"Milton," she wrote and spoke, "Defoe, Swift, Bunyan, More, Rousseau, Shakespeare, Pascal…wait, Shakespeare?!" Again?

With annoyance, she took out a book wedged between Emile, or On Education and Pensées, and it turned out to be The Winter's Tale by the author that she thought she had finished sorting. With a tired expression, she slid the book down a ramp she had attached to the ladder, a contraption she had invented herself. It transported the book right down on a table below, where it landed with a thud on a pile of books already there. She heard Adam jump in his chair when another addition to the heap was delivered, but ignored him as she began to empty the bookshelf piles at a time.

"Just when I think that I've finished sorting Shakespeare, there's always a Twelfth Night or a Cymbeline hidden here." She huffed, and realised that as she adjusted her makeshift headband that her face and hands were covered in dust. "Next thing I'll discover is that you have twenty copies of King Lear!"

"I've lived here my whole life, and even I'm surprised with what I find in this giant of a room." Adam flipped a page noisily. "Besides, don't you find organising this place fun?"

"I do," Belle replied, genuinely. "It's one of the best things to occupy my mind, as of late."

"'One of' the best things?" Even in the tone of his voice, there was a mock frown. "Then what's the best thing that occupies your mind?"

She hung Memoirs of a Cavalier on the edge of the shelf and tried to hide a smile. The first thing she thought of saying was "You, of course," but then she couldn't say that.

"Well," she shrugged, "the Geoffrey Chaucer I'm reading at the moment is absolutely fascinating."

He scoffed. "So you managed to find my old copy of The Canterbury Tales. That one was rather boring."

"Oh?" she grinned, turning herself around as she walked down the ladder. She was more than ready to battle him out in another contest of who had the best taste in literature. "Then what do you consider not boring, Your Most Royal Eminence?"

"Ha ha," he gave off fake laughter as she jumped down to the floor and walked towards him, and watched as he looked up from his book to glance at the ceiling to think. "Let's see…Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther was a fun one…I also liked Robinson Crusoe…and some of Shakespeare's works are good too, disregarding Romeo and Juliet."

At this, she put her hands on the table and gave him a frown, while he looked up at her with a challenging look in his eyes as he went on, adjusting his sitting position on his comfortable reading chair. She noticed, suddenly, that he was dressed quite simply in the morning; only wearing a plain shirt, with a pair of breeches and a thick banyan as a coat. His long hair was tied up in a ponytail at his nape with a ribbon, keeping out any stray locks away from his gorgeous face. And she couldn't help but tilt her head and stare at him as his eyes narrowed in concentration, and how handsome and roguish he looked like with a thick and mangy stubble. It was no wonder that the Bimbettes—or perhaps every young woman in Villeneuve—found him exquisite.

"What's a good Shakespeare play?" he thought aloud. "I rather am fond of Macbeth, and Othello was fantastic…oh, this one's a play I enjoyed very much, actually." Here he raised the book he was reading: a lovely bound thing, with the title All's Well That Ends Well gilded on the cover in gold.

"Oh," was the only thing she could say. And she was about to comment on her opinions on the play, like how naïve and fluctuating Bertram was in the scenes he appeared in, until she noticed her bookmarks and papers peeking out from the pages…and that they've been moved. She felt the heat rise to her face as she took a step towards him.

"Did you touch any of my bookmarks?" she asked quickly.

When he only grinned in reply, her face flushed and she grew more impatient.

"Did you read my notes?"

"Not necessarily 'read' in that sense of the word," Adam teased with a playful smirk on his face; if he wasn't joking around, he could have been very attractive, with his teeth bared, like he was asking for a challenge. "I just happened to glance over them and catch some of the things you wrote; it wasn't necessarily on purpose. But did I ever mention how charming your handwriting is? It really is a fun little marvel to look at the way your p's curl at their tails."

She raced at the Prince. "Give that to me!"

Belle lunged herself at Adam, but he quickly stood and stretched his arm up, making sure the book was out of her reach. Jump as she might, he was simply too tall, seeing as how her forehead aligned perfectly with his nose. All she could do was try and scramble for the book while he held it up high, as he laughed at her futile efforts. Soon, she grew too tired of hopping and put her hands on her waists, huffing, exhausted as he chuckled.

Then he opened a book to a page where his fingers bookmarked it, much to her shocked face and dismay. She still reached for the book, but he put his hands away from her as he smiled.

"Adam, don't—!"

"Here, I like this note," and he read it aloud as he fought her off. "'Helena is not a character to renounce a cause easily, even though her affections remain unrequited; she is similar to Prince Adam, in a way. Does this mean I am Bertrand? I would not like to think of myself as that callow.'"

Belle blushed furiously as he gave off another laugh before putting the book down on the table. God, how humiliating was it that he found her notes, comparing her own love story to the countless other love stories hidden in the library? Not that her own adventure with the Prince was boring, but she wanted only to see if it could match some of the other moments she loved about romance in literature. It was such a relief that he didn't pick up Romeo and Juliet; now that book was full of things and little notes she didn't want him to see.

"Oh, Belle," his laughter died, but his smile remained, and a hand went over to hold her face so they could lock eyes. "You're anything but."

If there was one thing that she always fell for, every single time, it was his eyes. They were absolutely mesmerizing and beautiful, as blue as the ocean that the sea monster Charybdis from Homer's Odyssey dwelt in, and just as dangerous as she. Belle always got lost in them, identifying what shade of blue they were, examining every detail in them: the way they brightened up when he smiled or shone when he chuckled. They were calm, inviting, and kind, and all she could do in under the influence of their power was either to sigh in longing or to give in to him. His eyes had remained a recognisable trait, whether he was the Beast or the Prince, and she was only lucky that they were a defining attribute that stayed through the transformation, because it was one of the things she loved so dearly about him.

"What is it?" he asked, when she had been silent for too long.

But she was still looking for a reply, and how could she focus if he was staring at her that way?

The silence only multiplied his trepidation, and the smile crumbled away. "If this was because I read your notes without your permission, I ask for forgiveness; it wasn't my intention to hurt your feelings over them. Next time, I'll inform you when I—"

A shocked moan came out of him instead when Belle flung herself towards him, shutting her eyes and sealing his lips with a kiss. And as she gnawed at him, holding the collar of his shirt with her dusty hands and dragging him down towards him, she could taste him, the scent of his virile musk filling her head and making it spin wildly. She could feel him surrendering, his body loosen and uncoil from shock, letting a hand gently caress her face as the other snaked down at the small of her waist, holding her close. His touch was so warm, and the glowing feeling that his fingers left in their wake was unbearable. She moved closer to him until his legs hit the table as their kiss deepened, as his hands flew to her face and pulled towards her. She never really knew how much she needed him until she was given a taste of him, and oh, how she craved it. It was all too much, too much.

Every time she felt his tongue against hers, every time her lip was caught between his teeth, every time the skin of her cheeks were tickled by the texture of his beard, and every time she heard an animalistic growl welling from the bottom of her throat, it all made her dizzy with excitement. Then as she—

A knock on the library door broke them apart and made them shoot their gazes at the entrance, where the butler Chapeau had his gloved hand over the door and a bashful look on his face. Belle immediately took a step away from Adam as they both blushed; the butler must have been there long enough for him to be as embarrassed as he looked. The Prince glanced her way and gave her a nervous laugh before attending to his servant.

"Y-Yes, Chapeau, sorry," Adam, startled at the sudden hoarseness of his voice, scratched his nape and jaw, the places her hands had been. "Sorry about that. Erhm…what is it?"

Chapeau paused for a while, thinking, then gestured down the hallway with a hesitant look. Adam was well-acquainted to his mute mannerisms to understand that there was another person in the castle.

"A guest?" Adam asked. "He's waiting for me?"

Chapeau nodded once.

"There's someone I have to attend to," Adam said back at Belle. "You're free to come with me, if you like."

"Of course," she said.

As Chapeau guided them to the front foyer, Adam walked briskly, with Belle following close behind. And, knowing that there was a guest, she untied the napkin used to pull her hair back and wiped off the dust from her face and hands, then untucked her skirts from her belt so that they fell evenly around her.

"You look lovely; don't try to impress them," Adam chastised, making her blush with the compliment. "Besides, it's morning. Who would try to look good at this hour?"

"You, I recall," she teased. "I think it was Cogsworth who told me that before the curse, you complained one morning that someone misplaced your brand new riding coat, and when they asked you why, you said that you were wearing it down for breakfast. A riding coat…for breakfast!"

The way his face contorted into an ashamed shade of red was very appealing to her. "You know, I'll tell the servants to stop telling you stories, for the sake of my dignity."

At this, Belle covered her mouth to supress a giggle. Even Chapeau tried to hide a smile.

However, their jovial mood would soon die when they reached the foyer, because the balconies and stairwells were populated with every single one of his servants, straight from cooking breakfast, cleaning the banisters in the East Wing, or sweeping snow off the pathways in the garden. They were looking down at the doors to the castle, where in front of them stood about a dozen men wearing red and white uniforms, with swords hanging at their sides and a couple of them holding banners with a coat of arms that Belle couldn't recognize. The most important-looking one of them wore an extravagant coat of the same colour, standing in the middle. He removed his cocked hat, and brought out the scroll that he kept under his arm.

Adam and Belle made their way down the crowded staircase, as his servants made way for him almost automatically. As she ignored Adam's confused expression, he hastily made his way down the stairs, and Belle struggled to catch up, frowning at the servants' whispering and worried behaviour. There were things that she caught in between their conversations.

"I never thought I'd see the day."

"Did we forget so soon?"

"How did they remember all of a sudden?"

"I thought the curse wiped their memory!"

"Oh, if they learn about Belle…"

She turned to her Prince, who look extremely disturbed. His face had contorted into a concentrated blank look, but he was obviously trying to frown. As they reached the end of the stairs, Cogsworth ambushed him, shaking as he struggled to stop his master from advancing further. Behind him were Lumière and Mrs. Potts, both of whom looked with distraught faces at the men in uniform.

"Master, please," Cogsworth struggled to keep Adam from moving forward. "Be gentle."

"Gentle?" Adam reiterated through clenched teeth, and Belle could hear a growl form from the bottom of his throat. "I thought I'd never see them back here, and you're telling me to be—?"

"Master, decorum, just this once," Lumière interrupted him, in a panicked tone unlike himself. "Just this once, and we'll discuss it later."

Adam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then turned heel on them and walked calmly towards the uniformed men, with a worried Belle following his footsteps, knee-deep in dread.

"Adam…" she whispered, "what's going on?"

"I'll explain, Belle, I swear," he said quickly. "For now, just stay behind me."

She did as she was told, and once he stopped walking, Adam was a few strides in front of the uniformed men, with his entire castle staff and Belle watching as he stared at the 'guests' right in the eye. There was silence, and not a cough could be heard as the most important man in the group unrolled his scroll and gazed at Adam with an indifferent expression.

"Are you whom they call the Prince of this castle?" the uniformed man asked. He had the loud voice of a crier, so everyone in the entire foyer could hear him ask the question.

"Yes," Adam replied, and the crier tried to hide a disdainful look as he scanned him head to toe, probably wondering what a Prince without any manners whatsoever was doing greeting his guests in what should have been nightwear.

Belle watched Adam's face. There was no emotion in it.

The crier then cleared his throat as he read from the scroll, and the words began to sink into the servants, into Belle and Adam, who grew more petrified with every single syllable that came from his mouth.

"Addressed to His Royal Highness the Prince Adam Sauvageon Bourdillou, of the Region of Vendôme, France, from the Archduchy of Heilig, Austria:

"On this day, in the year of our Lord 17—, this formal statement is delivered to the Prince of Vendôme directly from the House of Fedovia. As stated during the agreement of which your parents, Prince Louis-Degarè Bourdillou and Countess Madeleine Giselle of Plamondon, signed, the only daughter of the Archduke and Archduchess of the House of Fedovia, Princess Hanneliese Katharina Fedovia von Heilig, was to be united with you in matrimony upon the time when your age reaches five and twenty.

"Following the decade of which your mysterious disappearance took place, the Archduchy of Heilig will now assume you have reached the stated age and commence action into following this covenant. In coordination with this, Princess Hanneliese Fedovia von Heilig shall arrive in a fortnight. Your marriage shall culminate upon the planning that will occur. Many thanks to your senses and to your time to divulge within this statement's contents, and may the grace of God bless your marriage and your lives forthwith.

"Signed: Eldrich Niklaus Fedovia, Archduke of Heilig."

And after the statement was said, the doors opened, the gusty winter winds blew in, and the uniformed men got into a formation then marched out silently, with stern faces. The last one to exit was the crier, who tipped his cocked hat and walked out, the doors closing solemnly behind them.

There was silence.

Belle looked up to Adam's face, and yet, she was met with nothing. But within his eyes, there was a small amount of fear, ready to burst through the surface.

I had to conduct research about the existence and passing on of titles not only in France, but in Austria. I'm assuming that this period is the mid- to late 1700s, so the Hapsburg Monarchy and the Archduchy of Austria still existed. As far as my research is concerned, the children of the Archdukes and Archduchesses were Princes/Princesses, so correct me if I'm wrong there.

The text of the book that Adam reads here actually exists, and it's a brilliant piece of work. If you missed the title in this chapter, it's called The Castle of Otranto by local coolguy Horace Walpole, and it's considered by many literary scholars as the first gothic novel (so it's sure to be good). You can easily read it by getting a PDF on Google.

And, thankfully, Adam here has stubble. Since this is mostly based off the 2017 version of the film, you can imagine Dan Stevens with long hair and a beard. Just picture Adam à la Lancelot from Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb.

EDIT (13th May, 2017): User Child of Dreams pointed out to me that three months after June is September, not August. Thanks for sticking an eye out for me!