Five Years Later…

Belle shut the front door firmly behind her, waiting until she heard Gaston descend the front steps before peering outside again. "Can you imagine?" she muttered to herself as she watched him march down the main street and into a mud puddle. "Me, the wife of that boorish, brainless…"

She picked up a handful of chicken seed and tossed it towards the hens, before dashing down the stairs, towards the meadow behind her cottage.

If there was one day in her life that Belle wished she could undo, it was today. What had started as a routine trip to the town square had ended in her facing scorn and ridicule from her fellow townspeople. First, the headmaster had berated her for teaching a girl how to read in public. Then, he and Clothilde had rallied some villagers to dump all her wet laundry on to the ground. Finally, Gaston had followed her back to her house, trying to persuade her to marry him, even though she'd already told him several times that she wasn't interested. She let out a disgruntled sigh. Could today get any worse?

She was so sick and tired of living in this poor provincial town, where her only options were marrying the village narcissist or spending the rest of her life as an eccentric, book-reading spinster. There was so much more to being a woman than bearing children and keeping house all day! But no one except her father, Père Robert and Professeur Doucet seemed to understand that.

Only out here, surrounded by rolling hills, vibrant green trees and the clear blue sky, could she find her solace. She could be anyone in this place. Not Belle Gagnier; the village "funny girl," but the valiant Joan of Arc or fearsome Artemis from Greek mythology. For as long as Belle could remember, she'd always dreamt of pursuing adventure in the great wide somewhere. And more than that, she had a desire to share that dream with someone who understood her. Whoever they were, she doubted that she'd find them in this small-minded town. Everyone in Villeneuve only clung to what was familiar, living for the present instead of the future. In a world where everyone was so fixed in their ways, she wondered if she'd ever find someone who was willing to be open to possibilities beyond the conventional. If she could find that person, and one who could possibly even share in her interests, that was all she could ever ask for.

Belle waited for Gaston to retreat to the tavern for the afternoon before completing the rest of her errands. At Monsieur Bidault's general store, she bought some dried spices in preparation for her father's return from La Fontaine the next evening. Belle always liked to cook a tasty roast chicken dinner for Maurice when he'd come back from one of his art selling ventures. If he made some good sales, then the food would be to celebrate his success. If he didn't, then they would treat it as comfort food, and talk about what he could improve for next time. Belle's mother had died when she was a baby, and so Maurice was her only family growing up. She was grateful to him—not only for raising her, but for loving her unconditionally and never forcing her to follow society's expectations. If there were more people like her father in the world then she was sure that it would be a much better place.

Upon exiting Monsieur Bidault's shop, Belle heard someone call her name. She looked up to see Mr. and Mrs. Potts waving to her from the opposite side of the street. She smiled at them and waved back.

The Potts were the only family in Villeneuve that didn't think that Belle and Maurice were eccentrics. They were a friendly, middle-aged couple who served the Prince at the Château de la Rose, less than an hour's ride away. They also had a nine-year-old son named Chip, who worked as a castle kitchenhand under his mother's supervision. The poor boy had recently contracted a nasty bout of chickenpox, which had left him bedridden for the past several days. Belle had promised to visit him once he was over the worst of it.

Presently, Belle crossed the street and greeted the Potts family with another warm smile. "Bonsoir, Mr. and Mrs. Potts! How's Chip doing?"

"He's still blistering up a storm, but in good spirits," Mrs. Potts replied optimistically. "Docteur Quentin, bless his heart, offered to watch over him so John and I could run some last-minute errands. I heard what happened to you in the square, by the way. I'm so sorry that you had to go through such a humiliating ordeal! Why, if I were there, I'd have given Clothilde and the headmaster a good piece of my mind, I would have."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potts," Belle said graciously. "I just can't believe that the headmaster would create that much of a ruckus, all because I wanted to teach one child how to read! Céleste is such a bright girl and a fast learner. If she could attend school with the other boys in the village, I guarantee she'd be at the top of her class already."

"I don't doubt it, dearie," Mrs. Potts said with a sympathetic smile. "But I'm afraid that's just not how things work around here. Boys go to school to learn the skills needed to manage their businesses and finances. Girls stay at home to learn how to run a household. There's no sense in knowing how to read and write when you'll have a husband to do those things for you. I agree with you truly, but that's just the way it's always been."

"Then it's time somebody changed that rule because it's rubbish," Belle proclaimed. "As far as I can tell, any girl in this town can learn what the boys in that schoolhouse can. It would be a far better use of their time than cooking, cleaning, and fawning after empty-headed suitors all day. They should have the right to go to school here just as much as the boys."

"You know, she might be on to something there, Beatrice," Mr. Potts said, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "Why… this might be an idea she could discuss with the Prince."

"The Prince?" Belle looked to Mr. Potts in surprise. "Why would he bother seeing me? I'm just a farm girl. I'm of no importance to him."

"Nonsense!" Mr. Potts persisted. "A well-spoken, confident young lady like yourself—I don't see why he'd say no! Besides, he's always open to hearing suggestions from his subjects. People come to the castle all the time to share their concerns with him."

"It's true," Mrs. Potts concurred. "Why, just last week I brought him some tea while he was talking with a blacksmith from Corneille. It seems that he'll speak with anyone, regardless of who they are, peerage or not."

"Exactly." Mr. Potts nodded. "I'll be going to the castle to start my shift in about an hour. If you like Belle, I'd be happy to take you with me."

"Oh. Well…" Belle hesitated. The offer was certainly last minute, but she couldn't think of many reasons to refuse. Her father wouldn't be back tonight, so there was no rush for her to get home to make dinner or help him unload the wagon. And… as she heard raucous laughter coming from the tavern behind her, she suddenly thought of another very good excuse to go. With her father out of town, the last thing she wanted was for Gaston to try proposing to her again, this time when he was piss drunk and had the whole tavern gathered outside her door. Suddenly, the idea of visiting the Prince had grown ten times more appealing.

"All right then," she decided.

"Excellent!" Mr. Potts smiled. "I'll pick you up at your house around… quarter past five, then?"

When she got home, Belle put away her purchases and searched her wardrobe for something suitable to wear for her meeting with Prince Adam. It would be pointless to hide her commoner status from him, but that didn't mean that she couldn't try to make a good first impression. The trouble was, her selection of formal dresses was woefully limited to what she wore to church and town socials (on the rare occasion that she and her father were invited to one). Madame Fayette, the town seamstress, often offered to make Belle something pretty for a discounted price, but she had always refused. While Madame Fayette had taken a shining to Belle, her Gaston-obsessed daughters, Marie-Éliane, Marie-Élise and Marie-Éloïse, had not. Belle may have prided herself on being thick-skinned, but even she knew when it was better to keep her distance from someone who didn't appreciate her company.

After a great deal of deliberation, Belle settled for a blue cotton gown with white ruffled sleeves and a simple floral pattern. She changed into the dress, washed her face, brushed the knots out of her hair and tied it into a presentable half-ponytail. Then, she practised a few curtsies in front of the full-length mirror by the stairs until she saw Mr. Potts's wagon arrive.

It was only after watching Villeneuve disappear into the horizon behind her that Belle felt her nerves kick in. What was she thinking, agreeing to meet with Prince Adam on such short notice? She had no idea how to present herself to him, or what she'd say to him once they met. What if he didn't want to listen to her concerns, or laughed at her the second she opened her mouth? It didn't help that she knew very little about her local prince, apart from what she'd heard from the villagers. Their descriptions of him were very peculiar, to say the least.

Five years ago, Prince Adam had not been a popular leader amongst his subjects. He was a cold, materialistic despot who'd taxed his people mercilessly, all in the interest of hosting the most extravagant parties at his castle. These parties were always by private invitation—only the most beautiful nobility from around the world were permitted to attend.

But one summer night, after hosting what was meant to be his most exquisite party of all, everything came crashing to a startling halt. The Prince didn't dance with a single guest that night. He'd acted strangely distant and jumpy all throughout dinner. Then, the next morning, he'd instructed his staff to clear his estate of all needless furniture, paintings and mirrors and sell them to the highest bidder. Nobody understood his reasons, though many had their theories. Some said that the Emperor of France had threatened to strip his title if he didn't put an end to his compulsive spending habits. Others said that a pretty young maiden had snubbed him earlier that night, causing him to lose interest in his partying ways altogether. A third crowd suggested that the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi had appeared to him in a vision, warning him that a terrible future would befall upon him if he didn't repent from his sinful behaviour.

Whatever the reason, everyone agreed that the Prince's change of character had benefited the kingdom immensely. In the years following the end of his tax-raising regime, he'd focused all his efforts on building almshouses, orphanages and improving the infrastructure of the settlements in his kingdom. The larger cities had seen the biggest changes, but that didn't mean that Villeneuve hadn't undergone its share of developments as well. Since Belle and her father had moved here two years ago, the town had received new street lanterns on all the main roads, and an expansion to the marketplace that included a coffee house and a bookshop. The bookshop had easily become one of Belle's favourite places in town to visit; not only for its wide selection of books, but for the man who sold them. Professeur Dion Doucet was a retired literature professor from the University of Paris. He'd chosen to live out his remaining years in the countryside while taking up bookselling as a casual pastime. For Belle, it was positively delightful to talk with somebody who was well-versed in both Parisian culture and literary criticism. The fact that he let her borrow the books in his shop for free was a huge bonus.

Yet, for all the things Belle knew about Prince Adam, he was still very much an enigma. He'd made no public appearances in Villeneuve in all the years she'd lived here. He was unmarried, and had no children, although he was at the right age for both. For a man with such a private and secluded life, Belle couldn't help but wonder if he had something to hide from the rest of the world.

Belle and Mr. Potts continued their journey through the woods, stopping only when they reached an iron gate on the outskirts of the castle. Two guards opened the way for them and Belle's jaw dropped.

An immense, gravity-defying structure stood before her, with countless towers and turrets that seemed to challenge the very laws of physics. Its walls were made of white stone, cut to look as though the castle had grown straight out of the ground. The sight was nothing short of breathtaking. She could only imagine the time and craftsmanship needed to build such a stunning piece of architecture.

As they approached the castle, another mesmerizing sight caught Belle's attention: the grounds were filled with hedges, many of which had red roses in full bloom. It was easily one of the most beautiful rose gardens she'd ever laid eyes on, and it reminded her of the earlier request she'd made to her father. Roses had always been Belle's favourite flower, ever since she was a little girl. Perhaps Prince Adam had a fondness for them, too?

Mr. Potts made a right through the gardens and stopped at an entrance on the South side of the castle. He explained to Belle on the way that this was the entrance that all staff had to report to at the start of their shifts. Belle dismounted the wagon and followed him through the doors, past a small but decorous-looking atrium and down a corridor.

She was about to ask Mr. Potts where he was leading her when her attention turned to two men in powdered wigs heading in their direction. One of them appeared to be in his thirties or forties. He had a kind-looking face that was coated with copious amounts of blush. The second man was Henry Cogsworth, another townsperson Belle knew from Villeneuve. According to Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth was married to Clothilde—the village gossiper who often walked around town with a sour expression on her face. Belle couldn't understand why they had married, given that there was nothing in their personalities to indicate that they were compatible. Cogsworth was obsessed with manners and propriety, while Clothilde was loudmouthed and obnoxious. They were just another oddity in her village that she was never meant to understand.

"Ah, good evening, Lumière, Cogsworth!" Mr. Potts called to the two men as they walked past them.

"Bonsoir, Jean," the younger servant replied, stopping and greeting Mr. Potts with a congenial smile. "Starting your shift for the evening, I see?"

"And with Mademoiselle Gagnier," Cogsworth added, eyeing the young woman suspiciously. "Does she have business here I was not made aware of?"

"Well..." Mr. Potts lowered his gaze uncomfortably. "Cogsworth… I was wondering if you could help Miss Belle get a private audience with the Master. She's hoping to talk to him about some concerns she has about the running of the school in our village—some of which I personally think are worth looking into."

"Hmm. Well, I suppose she can speak with him," Cogsworth agreed. "But she needs to arrange an appointment with his secretary first. The Master is a busy man you know. He doesn't let anyone stroll into his bureau unannounced."

"Oh, Cogsworth have a heart," Lumière cut in, giving Belle a compassionate glance. "Surely the Master wouldn't mind making an exception for a belle gentille femme like herself?"

Cogsworth narrowed his eyes at him. "Why would he?"

Lumière eyed his co-worker like it was obvious and lowered his voice in an attempt to be discreet, except Belle still heard every word. "You know how gloomy he's been acting since he heard about his cousin's engagement. Perhaps the company of a girl his age is exactly what he needs to get himself out of his depressive rut."

Belle felt her ears glow warmly, flustered by Lumière's forward comment. She was about to insist that she wasn't here to be the Prince's "plaything," but Cogsworth beat her to it.

"Mademoiselle Gagnier is a respectable young lady, Lumière!" he retorted. "Not some kept girl for the Master to fool around with at his fancy."

Lumière's eyes widened at his own folly. "Oh, mais oui. I was meaning to suggest—" He cleared his throat and, wearing a humble, yet charming smile, inclined his head to Belle. "My sincerest apologies, mademoiselle," he said before turning to Cogsworth. "All I meant to say was the presence of a lovely girl can improve the mood of any man, even one as reclusive as our master. Wouldn't you agree?"

Cogsworth scoffed, clearly annoyed by his colleague's impertinent remark. "I don't like this," he admitted. "But she has come all this way." Turning back to Belle, he said, "Very well, mademoiselle. If you'd kindly follow me upstairs, I'll help you arrange an appointment to see the Prince. Perhaps he may well be feeling generous with his time this evening."

"Thank you, Cogsworth."

Belle bid farewell to Mr. Potts, who would be leaving to start his work for the night and followed Cogsworth down the remaining stretch of corridor. From there, they continued up a flight of stairs and down several hallways decorated with paintings of idyllic landscapes and portraits of nobility. Belle made a mental note to tell her father about these pieces when he returned from La Fontaine. As an artist himself, she knew he'd be examining them for hours if he were here.

She couldn't help but wonder if what Lumière had said about Prince Adam was true. It was strange to her that a man with so much wealth and influence could prefer solitude to entertaining and mingling with other dignitaries. Maybe she wasn't the only one who liked to get away from a crowd every once in a while.

At last, Cogsworth brought Belle to their final destination: a spacious waiting room filled with lavish seats and tables. Sitting at a desk at the center of the room was a gangly man with a pointy nose. He looked up from his paperwork as Belle and Cogsworth approached him. "Ah, bonjour, Monsieur Cogsworth!" he said with a friendly smile. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Good evening, LePlume," Cogsworth replied. "Do you know if the Master has any more room for appointments tonight? I have a young lady here who would be very interested in speaking with him."

"Bien sûr!" The man named LePlume nodded vigorously. "He finished his last meeting only a half-hour ago. He's taking dinner late tonight so he can finish some writing in his bureau. Go right in!"

Cogsworth thanked the secretary and led Belle to a door behind his desk. "Wait here just one minute," he urged her. He stepped into the bureau, leaving Belle alone in the waiting room. Unable to contain her curiosity, she pressed her ear up against the door. Inside, Cogsworth cleared his throat nervously.

"Ahem, good evening, sire."

"Cogsworth," a curt voice responded.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt. But there's a young lady here who would like an audience with you. Her name is Belle Gagnier."

Belle heard a chair creak, followed by a heavy pause. "What did you say her name was?"

"Belle Gagnier, sire," Cogsworth repeated. "She's the daughter of an artisan from Villeneuve. She came here with John Potts to speak with you… something about concerns regarding her local education system?"

There was more silence. Belle held her breath nervously, though she didn't understand why. It wasn't the end of the world if Prince Adam refused to see her. She'd just return to Villeneuve, continue to go through the motions of her provincial life, maybe keep her nose down until her father made enough money to move them to a new village…

"Ahem." Cogsworth finally cut through the silence, if awkwardly. "Shall I bring her in to you, sire? I know that you're very busy. I can ask LePlume to make an appointment with her if now's not a good time."

"No-no. Of course not," stammered the Prince. "She's come all this way to speak with me. Why shouldn't I see her? Where is she?"

"Outside, sir."

"Oh." He paused. "Well then, send her in, please."

Belle stepped away from the door, just in time for Cogsworth to peer outside and motion for her to follow him back into the bureau.

"Mademoiselle Gagnier," he announced. "May I present His Royal Highness, Prince Adam de Bauffremont. Your Highness, this is Mademoiselle Belle Gagnier of Villeneuve."

Belle stepped into the room where her gaze was instantly drawn to the man standing behind the desk across from her. Her breath hitched in her throat. Of all the stories she'd heard in Villeneuve, none of them had mentioned exactly how dashing their local prince was. Prince Adam appeared to be in his mid to late twenties—barely a few years older than herself. His strawberry blond hair was tied into a neat queue, and his face was clean-shaven and symmetrical. It was a pleasant-looking face, and it embarrassed Belle to admit that she enjoyed looking at it. His blue silk jacket, grey breeches and ironed cravat helped to emphasize his already regal bearing. But the one part of the Prince's appearance that appealed to Belle the most was his greenish-blue eyes, which were blinking at her in pure astonishment. Either that or he had a bit of dust trapped in his eyes. She had never been very good at reading people in that regard.

"Um, good evening, Your Highness," she said, addressing her host with a rigid curtsy.

"Good evening, mademoiselle," Prince Adam replied, continuing to stare at her with the same awestruck expression. "I'm uh… very pleased to meet your acquaintance."

He took a step forward and slammed his knee against the side of his desk. "Ow!"

"Sire!" Cogsworth exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

"Of course." The Prince nodded, staggering backwards as his cheeks turned a dull shade of red. "My legs are asleep from sitting down for so long, that's all!"

Belle had to fight back the urge to giggle. She'd never seen a prince in person before, much less a clumsy one.

"Perhaps you ought to take walks every so often," Cogsworth continued, pursing his lips in concern. "Shutting yourself up in this bureau all day will do you no good. Especially in this heat."

"I appreciate the suggestion, Cogsworth," Prince Adam assuaged. "But as you know, these documents aren't going to write themselves. Anyway, thank you for the introductions. I'll take things from here. Mademoiselle, please"—he gestured to the chair in front of his desk—"have a seat."

Belle obediently sat down in the chair opposite the Prince's desk, taking a moment to fan out her skirt in the ladylike manner her father had shown her when she was younger. Now she badly wished that she'd accepted Madame Fayette's offer to make her a fancier dress when she still had the chance. Against the Prince's well-tailored clothes, she felt woefully underdressed. That, and she was almost certain that the chair she was sitting in was worth the price of Philippe, if not more.

"Thank you for seeing me under such short notice, Your Highness," she said, in a half-hearted attempt at distracting him from her homely appearance. "You must be very busy."

"I am," he agreed, taking his own seat after ushering Cogsworth out of the bureau. "But it's refreshing to look at something other than my royal documents for a change. I mean, you're a distraction, but a good distraction! Not to say that you're a…" His face turned red again. "My majordomo mentioned that you've come to me with a concern. So please. Enlighten me."

"Well," Belle began, twisting her hands together nervously. "You see, Your Highness, I come from a village where a girl's skills in the kitchen are valued over her ability to read and write. When a girl does show an interest in reading, she often faces ridicule from the more educated men in our town. As a literate girl myself, I don't think that's right or fair. And so… I was wondering if—I mean, if it were possible…" She exhaled nervously. "Could you rewrite the law to permit the girls in our village to attend school with the boys?"

The Prince pinched his bottom lip, evidently surprised by Belle's forward question. "Well, that's a very bold proposition, mademoiselle," he answered after a moment's pause. "But it's not without its flaws, I'm afraid. Letting boys and girls attend school together would mean spending more money on books, desks and schoolmasters to accommodate them all. Not to mention that many men depend on the women in their households to take care of their cooking and cleaning. Tell me, how can the girls in your village keep house for their families if they're required to attend school five days a week?"

"I understand that it would be a big investment, Your Highness," Belle acknowledged. "But personally, I think that with a proper education, girls could find a way to make their housework obsolete, or at least speed up the process."

"Hmm." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, that's certainly an interesting supposition. Do you have any evidence to support this claim?"

"I do." She nodded, confidence growing as she explained her reasoning. "I admit I've never had a formal education myself, but my father showed me how to read when I was growing up. When I was ten, he bought me an inventor's almanac containing some of the most fascinating machines I'd ever read about. I'd spend hours studying its diagrams, trying to understand how everything worked. Since then, I've been crafting my own machines to help me with my chores around the house. Recently, I built an invention that can wash your clothes for you without tiring out your arms or getting your hands wet. I call it a laverie."

"Intriguing," said the Prince. "And how exactly does this 'laverie' work?"

Belle quirked her brows, surprised that Prince Adam wanted to hear about such a mundane part of her provincial life. Even her fellow townsfolk would rather watch the crops grow than listen to her ramble on about her homemade inventions. Still, she agreed to indulge him, going into the details of how her machine worked and how she'd come up with the design for it. Prince Adam listened with rapt interest, which was a far better reception than what she'd received from the people in her village.

"So you're saying that if we send girls to school to learn how to read, they'll learn to create things like your... what did you call it again?" he said once she had finished.

"A laverie," she emphasized. "But it's not only that, Your Highness. I strongly believe that if girls learned how to read, they could hone their skills in many other disciplines, like gardening, cooking and sewing. I'm almost certain that they could advance society for the better if they were given the same education rights as boys."

Prince Adam placed a hand on his chin, a pensive look on his face. His expression unsettled Belle. Maybe he wasn't going to approve of her idea after all. And why would he? Letting girls go to school was a pretty ridiculous proposal, not to mention costly. Surely the Prince had more important issues to worry about?

There was a sudden knock on the door. "Bonsoir, Maître," Lumière said, peering his head into the bureau. "I just wanted to remind you that dinner will be ready in about ten minutes."

"I should go," Belle said, already sensing that she'd overstayed her welcome. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Your Highness. This was obviously a bad idea. I—"

"No, wait!" the Prince exclaimed, halting her as she got to her feet. "Lumière... set the dining room for two, please."

"Two, Master?" Lumière blinked at him. His eyes only glanced at Belle and something seemed to dawn on him. Still, he innocently prompted, "I didn't know we were expecting a guest."

"Yes, well"—Prince Adam's face turned red again—"there's been a change of plans. Mademoiselle Gagnier will be joining us tonight."

"Vraiment?" Lumière surveyed Belle with a surprised, yet pleasant expression. "Mais… what's the occasion?"

"I'll explain later," he hissed. "Now tell Chef Cuisinier to prepare another meal for our visitor."

"Avec plaisir, mon prince," Lumière obliged with a bow. Before he disappeared behind the doors, Belle could see a hint of a smirk on his face.

She looked back at Prince Adam in confusion. "You want me to join you for dinner, Your Highness?"

"I know it seems rather sudden, but yes," he said, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. "Forgive me. It's just… it's been a long time since I've had a conversation with somebody who can present her thoughts in such a logical and articulate way. It's quite inspiring, as a matter of fact."

Belle smiled, caught off-guard by the Prince's unexpected compliment. "So then, does that mean you'll follow through with my suggestion?"

His face fell. "Well... not exactly. While I do agree with your points, I don't have the authority to rewrite the law to allow boys and girls to attend school together. That power rests with the Emperor of France only. And while I've tried to convince him of the merits of co-educational learning, my plea continues to fall on deaf ears. He simply has no interest in changing a law that will only benefit a small part of the French populace. But you might just be the person I need to make him see reason." He stared at Belle intently. "I'd like to interview you over dinner if you're willing. Just to gather some information to share with the Emperor the next time I meet with him. Would that be alright with you? I mean, have you eaten yet? Are you hungry?" He tilted his head, expression anxious and expectant.

"I haven't," Belle replied. It wasn't a lie. In her haste to prepare for the Prince's meeting, she hadn't even had the chance to prepare dinner for herself for when she returned home. Now she was feeling rather peckish, though she didn't feel comfortable admitting that out loud.

It seemed that she didn't have to though, as Prince Adam lowered his shoulders and sighed in relief. "You'll stay for dinner, then?" he asked her hopefully. "I promise I won't keep you long. I'll even send you home in my carriage after."

"Oh, well…" Belle pursed her lips and considered his offer. On the one hand, it was highly unconventional for a girl of her standing to dine with a prince. On the other hand, if she said yes, then she could improve her chances of helping the girls in her village learn how to read and write. It was better to get off on the right foot with Prince Adam, especially if he was her best way of making her dream of equal education a reality. "If you insist," she said decisively.

Prince Adam looked as though she had just given him the deepest of compliments.

Twenty minutes later, Belle sat at a long dining room table, overwhelmed by the assortment of spoons, knives and forks in front of her. She'd read a book on table etiquette once, but even so, she was drawing a blank on what she was supposed to do exactly. Which utensils were meant to be used for which foods? Did she work her way in or out? What if this was a test, and the Prince intended to kick her out of his castle for having undignified eating habits?

Don't be silly, she told herself as she braved a look back up at her host. Prince Adam smiled at her encouragingly, which briefly stilled her nerves. Surely he wouldn't have invited her to eat with him if he thought her table manners would be an issue?

The servants brought in the first course of the evening: a delicious cheese and tomato salad, and she soon realized that her assumption was correct.

The interview was surprisingly pleasant for two people who'd only just met each other. Prince Adam asked Belle several questions about her life as a farm girl, which were awkward to answer at first, but got easier as time passed. She told him about her father and her childhood spent on the road, moving from one town to the next. She'd had very little friends growing up, not only because her father liked to move around so much, but because other children often teased her for reading books instead of engaging in more "socially appropriate" pastimes. Eventually, she learned to accept that girls who liked to read books were doomed to live lonely lives.

Prince Adam listened to her answers with pity and surprise. According to him, he had no idea that literate women faced so much stigma in the lower class. In the upper class and the church, all women knew how to read in some capacity. He agreed with Belle's assertion that literacy could do just as much good for a housewife as it could for a nun or noblewoman. Reading was an invaluable skill for anyone, not a meaningless hobby.

"You're obviously quite well-read for a commoner, but what exactly are your favourite books?" he asked her as they proceeded to their second course of the evening: roast duck with a side of potatoes. "I presume that your library includes more than just the Bible and inventor almanacs."

"Well"—Belle bit her lip shyly—"Romeo and Juliet is actually one of my favourite plays."

Prince Adam considered her confession with a thoughtful expression. Then he recited, as though in a trance:

"These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately. Long love doth so.
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow."

Belle looked at the Prince in wide-eyed amazement. "You know Shakespeare?"

"Well, I had an expensive education," he admitted sheepishly. "When I was younger, my tutor would make me memorize his verses word for word. And in English for that matter." He made a face at the unpleasant memory.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she observed.

"Yes, well you'd feel the same if you were stuck in a stuffy room all day, forced to study the deeper nuances of the English language. I do like Shakespeare, I'm just not too fond of his love stories. All that heartache and pining—it's all so... nauseating and predictable. I'd much rather read one of his darker tragedies, like Macbeth or Hamlet."

"I like those too, actually," Belle conceded. "It's so intriguing to see how far someone can fall when they're consumed by greed and paranoia."

"I think Shakespeare's tragedies are a warning, personally," said the Prince. "Don't want to die young? Then don't listen to the words of ghosts and witches. And most importantly, don't let your obsession with power and revenge blind you from seeing what's best for your peers and subjects."

By now, Belle wasn't even trying to hold back her enthusiasm. Next to Professeur Doucet, she'd never met anyone who thought about Shakespeare's plays the same way she did. "I agree completely," she told him, eager to share more of her opinions on the subject.

Once the interview was over and the servants had cleared away the dessert plates, Prince Adam arranged for one of his drivers to take Belle back to the village. They both waited outside the front steps for his carriage, which Belle found to be a little unnecessary, though she didn't protest the matter. By now, there was something about the Prince's presence that she found trusting and strangely… familiar. It was only a feeling—she couldn't explain why she felt it, or where it had come from.

"Something on your mind, mademoiselle?" the Prince asked, startling her from her thoughts.

Belle looked from the setting sun, to the Prince's greenish-blue eyes, which were staring at her with mild concern. She felt her face burn, embarrassed she'd let her mind wander. "Oh, it's nothing. I only, well... May I speak openly with you, Your Highness?"

He nodded. "You may."

"It's just…" She took a deep breath. "You're not exactly who I expected you to be."

He furrowed his brows, seemingly puzzled by this comment. "Pray tell, what did you expect me to be?"

"Oh, I don't know." She shrugged. "The people in my village like to talk, and I've heard them mention a lot of... interesting things about you. They said you were a selfish man who raised taxes, threw expensive parties and were obsessed with collecting beautiful, material things. But now that I've gotten to know you personally... I don't see those qualities in you at all."

"Hmm. Maybe that's because I'm not that same man," he suggested coyly.

"That's an awful lot of change to undergo in such a short time."

"Perhaps. Does that surprise you, mademoiselle?"

She bit her lip as she thought of her answer. "Personally, I don't believe that anyone can change that much," she admitted. "Take the people in my village, for example. They all follow the same boring routine every day, never thinking about how their lives could be different. Especially Gaston... this one man who keeps trying to court me, even though I've told him several times that I'm not interested. Since the first day I met him, I could tell that he only wanted me for my looks and not my personality. He keeps claiming he's changed since then, but I know it's all a ruse. Deep down, he's just as arrogant and self-interested as he was before. The only difference is that he tries to flatter me with gifts and compliments, thinking it will be enough to make me change my mind about him. But it isn't."

"This Gaston certainly sounds like an irritating fellow," Prince Adam sympathized. "I'd be happy to write him a restraining order if you like."

Belle laughed. "Oh no, that won't be necessary, Your Highness. I know how to keep my distance from him. What I mean to say is that people don't really change. They only act like they do in the interest of getting what they want."

The Prince was silent for a moment. Turning his gaze towards the sky, he said, "There is… some truth in what your village says about me. I used to be spoiled, selfish and unkind. My father taught me to believe that I was above everyone, so I never stopped to question if my behaviour was wrong, or unethical. Until I met this girl..." he paused. "She came to work for me at my castle for a time. And she made me realize that all those parties I hosted, and all that money I spent… it never gave me any real satisfaction. But performing small acts of kindness for others—especially those less fortunate than myself—did. And so, I've strived to put my time into helping those types of people ever since."

"Where is this girl now?" Belle said curiously.

"I'm not sure." He shrugged. "Out seeing the world, I imagine. She was never one to settle in one place for too long. Once her contract with me was up, I let her go with no obligation to return or stay in touch with me." He lowered his gaze, and Belle thought she could see a hint of remorse in his eyes. Whoever this mysterious woman was, she must have meant a great deal to him.

"Could I ask you another question, Your Highness?" she asked.

"Certainly."

"Do you believe that our choices determine our fate? Or is our destiny already laid out for us?"

Prince Adam seemed a little taken aback by her words. He took a moment to contemplate them before saying, "That is a... profound question, mademoiselle. May I ask what prompted you to wonder about it?"

Belle winced. It suddenly occurred to her that her question was quite personal, and she should have been more tactful in asking it. Thankfully, the Prince wasn't offended; only curious. "Well... I just finished reading Romeo and Juliet... for the seventh time," she explained abjectly. "In it, Romeo is often tormented by the idea of fate and freewill. For most of the play, he lets 'fortune' control his destiny, instead of holding himself accountable for his actions. But once he hears about Juliet's death, he decides to defy fate by ending his life. Only… the play's prologue suggests that he and Juliet were destined to kill themselves from the very beginning." She looked back at the Prince. "I don't necessarily like the idea of us being reduced to puppets on strings, but... I don't know. What do you think?"

"In my opinion, all our actions are determined by us, and us alone," Prince Adam replied firmly. "If a man makes a wrong decision and suffers for it, then he has no one to blame but himself. If he blames all his bad luck on fate, then he's just as foolish as a calf wearing a blindfold."

"I see," Belle concurred. "What about true love, then?"

"What about it?"

"Do you believe that two people can be destined to meet each other? Or see each other and know in an instant that they're meant to be together?"

"I think we all have a choice in who we love, mademoiselle. Love isn't just something that magically happens to someone one day. That sort of superficiality only exists in fiction and children's stories."

"You must see the world from a very unimaginative perspective, then," she teased.

"Not unimaginative. Just... cautious."

His expression became guarded again. Belle dropped her playful façade, sensing that she'd overstepped her boundaries. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I didn't mean to make fun of you. I just—"

"Oh, we hardly know each other well enough for that," he interrupted. "But perhaps one day, we will."

He reached down and kissed her gently on the hand. Belle felt another dull warmth creep into her cheeks as she held his gaze, which was full of unexpected tenderness and another emotion that she couldn't identify. This wasn't the same puppy dog look of Gaston, but a look that was intense and solicitous, as though he was staring into all of her. She should have found this unsettling or invasive. But she didn't.

The carriage arrived and stopped beside the castle's front steps. Prince Adam released Belle's hand to open the door for her. "Bon voyage, mademoiselle," he said with another smile. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

"Likewise, Your Highness," Belle said with a curtsy. "Thank you again for listening to my concerns. And for the lovely dinner."

Belle spent the ride back to Villeneuve processing the evening's events. It was funny how she'd first assumed that her meeting with Prince Adam would be a complete waste of time and at best, an easy way to avoid Gaston for a few hours. The reception she'd received from him was far more than what she'd bargained for. He'd listened to her concerns and treated her with respect and dignity. At no point had she felt that he wanted to take advantage of her, even though it was well within his power as a nobleman to do so. He was familiar with Shakespeare's works and seemed to have read several other forms of high literature, based on what he'd mentioned to her at dinner. He was good-natured and remarkably easy to talk to. Indeed, even Belle was surprised by how much she'd shared with him tonight, and how she didn't feel ashamed or uncomfortable for doing so. She couldn't shake off the uncanny feeling that she'd spoken to him before...

He'd made no direct promises to meet with her again. With a schedule as tight as his, and all the duties he had to commit to in one day, it made sense. But would he? Belle couldn't help but wonder.

A friendship between a prince and a peasant wasn't only unorthodox; it was practically unheard of. Yet she couldn't deny that she'd felt a startling connection to him, and she was pretty sure that he'd felt it too. She couldn't get over the irony of it all. Just a few hours earlier, she'd run into the meadow behind her house, mourning the ignorance of her townspeople and yearning to find someone who understood her dreams. Perhaps that somebody wasn't so far away after all.

The End

A/N: Sorry for the wait! Shortly after New Year's, I got thrown headfirst into a new full-time job, which has been taking up a lot of my time and energy these past few months. I'm currently on leave due to the coronavirus outbreak, which has given me a convenient, albeit slightly unfortunate opportunity to sit down and finish writing this story.

Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone who's stuck with me during this 3 years in the making story/character study thing. This fic hasn't got nearly as much attention as my older multi-chapter works, which I'm a little bummed about, but I guess it's to be expected, given this fandom's sharp decline in activity in recent years and the fact that I'm lousy at sticking to any sort of update schedule. I also sense that this work may not have met expectations from early reviewers, who were expecting it to become an all human rom com with Belle and the Prince. I knew early on that this was not a direction I wanted to go in with this story, primarily because so many people were writing fics with that premise after the live action film came out, and I wanted to try something different. I guess you can say that after being in this fandom for almost 10 years, I like to force myself to write stories that go against the status quo, even if I lose some readers in the process.

I knew from the beginning that I wanted the end of this story to be ambiguous. This largely stemmed from my cynicism towards the 2017 film, and the lack of acting chemistry between Dan Stevens and Emma Watson, which convinced me that they weren't really meant for each other, and that their relationship would be a passing fling that would only last for a few months at best. This was an idea that stuck with me throughout the making of this story. However, I didn't want to leave die hard "Adelle" shippers empty-handed, which is why I decided to leave it up to readers to decide whether or not their relationship would continue after this epilogue. Some readers also expressed an interest in seeing Belle's memories restored in this final timeline, which was not something I'd planned for initially, though I could see some ways that it could happen. If I ever expanded on that idea, it would be treated as an extra epilogue or a mini sequel (but that probably won't happen for a while, if ever. I am a much busier person now than I was back in 2017).

I'd like to extend a special thanks to my beta readers, TrudiRose, LovelyLadyAllie and CarolNJoy, the latter of whom helped me a lot with developing the events of this last reality and getting into 2017 Belle's head. Writing Belle posed a particular challenge, as I did not like Emma Watson's portrayal of Belle in the new film, and found it hard to balance her cold, brash attitude with the more emotionally vulnerable person she needed to be in the last few chapters. But I think I pulled it off decently with her help. A final thank you goes out to the members of the Bittersweet and Strange forum, my reviewers and my followers on Tumblr and Discord for their on-going support with this story over the years.

I can't say for certain if I'll have any new works to share here in the near future. But you'll know where to find me if I do!

Until then,

The Green Archer, over and out!