His early childhood had been very happy. When he was a little boy he used to love roses, because she loved them. His dear Maman. He couldn't remember her not being surrounded by roses everywhere she went. Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but since it had been so long since she passed away, he didn't even bother to get all the details right anymore. But the truth was, he'd loved her more than anything else in the world. As did his father. His parents had been madly in love, something you didn't see every day among royals. Many of the stiff noble couples he'd met were married for political reasons. His parents, on the other hand, were married solely out of love. When he thought of his parents, he remembered a warm, happy couple. A couple that would go on strolls in the middle of the day, giving a young Cogsworth a stroke almost on a daily basis. A couple that ruled their province justly. A couple that loved their only child as much as they loved each other.

The rose garden had been a gift from his Papa. Maman had called it the most magical place on earth. They had spent many summer days in that garden as a family. Sometimes after Mrs. Potts had put him to bed, he'd look out of his window, and he could see his parents sitting on Maman's favorite bench. The love between them had always been evident, even when he couldn't hear what they were saying to one another.

His Maman passed away when he was just six years old – or six and a half, as he would always exclaim back then. To this day, he could still remember Mrs. Potts's expression as she told him what had happen. Her face would always reflect exactly what mood she was in. not that day though, that cold, snowy night in late December. As she walked into his room, she had no expression on her face. At least not one that he knew of. She looked at him for a long time before she finally spoke. "Dear..," she said, sounding hesitant. "I didn't do it!" was his automatic response. Whatever she was speaking about, it sounded serious. He had been told off plenty of times before, and it wasn't something he particularly liked about Mrs. Potts. However, Mrs. Potts gave him a sad smile, one of those smiles that doesn't reach the eyes. "It's nothing you did, my dear. It's..," she seemed unsure of how to proceed, which surprised him – adults always knew what to say. "Dear, do you remember when Claude died?" Claude was his dog, who he'd loved with all my heart. Claude had died the year before. He nodded, unsure of where this was going. "You said he went to puppy heaven," he told Mrs. Potts. She smiled that fake smile again. "I did. And I told you all about puppy heaven, didn't I?" She had. He remembered how she described this place to him: like the most wonderful summer day, the weather was always perfect. There were puppies everywhere, and all the toys he could think of for them to play with. He told her how much he wanted to go to puppy heaven too, but she told him he couldn't. "It's for puppies only." But it had helped. He still missed Claude a lot, but thinking of him in puppy heaven made him happy, because he was sure Claude was happy. "Well, there is a heaven for people too. When people pass away, they will go to a beautiful place, which is filled with the most beautiful roses, and everything you have ever loved." He stared at Mrs. Potts, unable to understand what she was trying to tell him. She took a deep breath. "Adam, dear, your Maman, she... she lives in heaven now." He continued to stare at Mrs. Potts as the horrible truth dawned on him.

There where roses everywhere during those days leading to the funeral. The people of their province knew how much she had loved roses, and so many of them had sent us roses to let us know they were thinking of them, that they remembered their Queen. Maman's funeral was terrible. Since she was the Queen of a province, a lot of royal and nobles came to pay their respects. Papa was nowhere to be seen during this time. He had never liked it when those stiff people came to our castle, but this time was even worse than usual. It was worse because, all of a sudden, he had become one of the stiff people too. The first few days after the funeral, the young Prince believed this would pass. However, as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, it became clear to him that he had not only lost his mother that fateful Christmas, but his father as well.

That spring, just days before his seventh birthday, he looked out of his bedroom window to see the castle gardeners removing the rose bushes. He ran downstairs in horror. "Mrs. Potts! Why are they removing the rosebushes?! Tell them to stop!" He yelled, as he was running toward his caretaker. He threw himself at her, sobbing uncontrollably into her apron. Under different circumstances he would never have done this. After all, he was almost seven years old, not a little child anymore! But the rosebushes were one of the last reminders of his Maman. "Your Papa ordered to have them removed, dear," she told him, but he could tell that she did not agree with him. "They remind him too much of your Maman." This he did not understand. Yes, the roses reminded him of Maman as well, but wasn't this supposed to be a good thing? Through the roses it felt as though she was still with us, despite the fact that she lived in heaven now. Removing the rose garden was taking away the last part of Maman he had left in this castle. "Please," he sobbed into Mrs. Potts's apron, "make them stop. Please!"

It was the last time he saw a rose in many years. His father forbade any sign of the flowers in the castle. When he died, less than a year after the Queen's death, nobody sent roses. The stiff nobles came to visit the funeral again this time, but he never saw them again after this event. He sat in the front row during the funeral, refusing to cry. After all, he was now seven and a half years old, and due to take over as King of the province in ten years.

Things changed after his father's passing though. The change that had started with Maman's death became worse and worse. His childhood and all its happiness were over. He didn't know if it was out of pity or due to the fact that he was the only royal left in the castle, the servants didn't dare to ignore his wishes. A few of them tried, obviously. Cogsworth, Lumière, and Mrs. Potts where the most stubborn, although this became less as he grew older and more arrogant with each passing day. The only remainder of his happy youth was the huge portrait of the young family. The King and Queen looked very much in love in this painting, as they had when they were still alive. The Queen was carrying a single flower. A rose. Everyday this painting served as a painful reminder of what he had lost.

Then came that fatal Christmas. Of course it happened during Christmas. Ever since his mother passed away, he had disliked Christmas, it reminded him of what he used to have when Maman was still alive. That one Christmas was worse than the other years. He had been fourteen years old at the time, and, as the servants would whisper among themselves, a tyrannical monster. Nothing pleased the young Prince anymore, he had become cruel, spoiled, and extremely unkind. That Christmas, his servants had collected some money to buy him a present. Mrs. Potts had selected a beautiful illustrated book with fairytales. However, the first thing he noticed as he unwrapped the present, was the large picture of a rose on the front cover. He despised it at once. "A book?" He sneered at the gift. He was a Prince! Surely they could have given him something more worthy! Just then, somebody knocked on the door. Usually, he'd let one of the servants open it, but after this Christmas gift fiasco, he was convinced they'd screw up even the easiest task.

He yanked the door open to find an old woman holding a rose. "What do you want?" he demanded. "Please," her voice was barely more than a whisper, "won't you help an old woman in need? I'd like to have place to rest for the night. In return I will give you this beautiful rose, the only possession I have." For a moment he was taken aback; did she actually dared to knock on his door, ask to spend the night, and in return give him a rose? Didn't she know who he was? He snorted. "Do you actually think I'd let a filthy old hag like you stay in my castle? Please! Get away from me!" The old woman looked directly at him, which slightly unnerved him, though he couldn't tell exactly why. "Please do not be deceived by appearances, Prince Adam," - so she did know who he was! – "for beauty is found within." He snorted again. "Do you truly believe your stories will make me change my mind? Get out, before I call my guards!" With that, he turned to close the door. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he saw something that made his heart stop beating.

A rose. Of course she's given him a rose. It was cruel really. She must have known how he felt about roses. She seemed to know everything. He sighed as he stared at this enchanted rose, shining bright, though it had already begun to wilt. The old hag – no, the enchantress, she was an enchantress – had given him ten years to change. Now, well over nine years later, he had begun to lose hope. Although there were no mirrors left in his castle – not ones that were still in one piece, that is – he knew what he looked like. A monster. A horrible, terrible Beast. It was cruel, what she had done to him. Unfair, too. He was only fourteen at the time. How could he have known? And now, with less than a year left to break the curse, he was certain he would stay like this forever. For who could ever learn to love a Beast?

The first time he laid eyes on her, she reminded him of his mother. Not because they looked alike, not at all. But the girl obviously loved her father very much. Such love and devotion he had seen only once. She was brave too, as his mother had been. The servants told him her name was Belle. It suits her, he decided. She was beautiful there was no doubt about that. All he had to do now was make her fall in love with him, and the spell would be broken. This turned out to be harder than he initially thought it would be. At some point, one of the servants – he didn't even bother to see who – mumbled something about roses. He gave a loud roar and stormed out of the room to disappear into his West Wing. It was hopeless! She was so beautiful, and he was… well. A Beast. Which he would remain until the day he died, of that he was sure.

Something changed though. Somewhere along the way, they started behaving politely to one another. This politeness changed into a friendship. At some point that winter he stood on his balcony with Lumière and Cogsworth. The three of them were watching Belle, who was walking in the snow with her horse. He couldn't deny that he felt something for this girl. He admitted this to his two loyal servants, who seemed ecstatic. When he mentioned he wanted to do something for her, it was Cogsworth who almost mentioned roses again. Strangely, it didn't bother him as much as it used to. Perhaps he had actually moved past it.

That night after the dance, he was ready to confess his love to this beautiful girl. In a cruel twist of faith, however, he ended up letting her go. She needed her father more than she needed him, of that he was sure. He stared at his enchanted rose, the one he had despised for so long now. Strangely, he didn't feel that way anymore. Without this rose, he would never have met Belle. Even though she wasn't the one for him, he was glad to know what it felt like to love somebody. For a moment he considered removing the last two petals of the rose himself, so he could end this seemingly endless wait. However, he found he couldn't do it. As long as there was still hope, he would hold on to that, if only for his loyal servants.

She came back to him. Against all odds, he got to see her again. It hardly mattered that this would be the last time he ever saw her. He was dying, of that he was certain. He almost looked forward to this, to see his dear Maman again. Almost. If it hadn't meant leaving her behind. Belle. She still reminded him of his mother, beautiful and strong. A strong love of books and, of course, roses. Had he been brave enough to tell her how he felt, and had she been brave enough to love him back, he would have restored the rose garden to its former glory. She would have loved it, of that he was sure. If only he had been brave enough to deserve her.

That summer, he took his beautiful Belle to the rose garden for the first time. As he'd suspected, she loved it. "Oh, Adam! It's so beautiful!" He took her to the bench. It was a new one, but it looked exactly the same as the one his Maman had loved so much. It was even in the same spot. There, on that bench, he proposed to Belle. Surrounded by roses, she agreed to be his wife. He had found his love for the flower again, this time through the other woman he loved so much. He was sure the rest of his life would be as happy as his childhood had been, thanks to his beautiful, brave Belle.

Hi guys! So I've been meaning to continue my other fic, What If?, for ages, but nothing came. And then POOF! This came to mind. I hope you like it! Reviews make me happy!