At long last, I was free to relax, gently drifting into a state of peaceful slumber. The previous evening, my sleep had been interrupted by Belle's complaints, which soon turned into screams, but now there was new life in the castle, and my wife had spent the day resting.

What a night this was going to be! No waking up multiple times because Belle craved the most unusual combination of foods or felt emotional or had a backache. No having to have both an open window and a roaring fire because Belle couldn't decide whether she was too hot or too cold. No lengthy discussions about things that could go wrong with the baby.

I was finally reunited with two of my best friends: Peace and Quiet. Lying comfortably on my mattress, I allowed my head to sink into the softness of my pillow. I adjusted my blankets and was almost asleep when I heard someone knocking at my door.

"Come in," I murmured, still half asleep.

"Mrs. Potts, sir." She entered the room with a wailing baby. "Your son is hungry."

I sighed. "Can't Belle feed him?"

"She's had a long day, master. It won't hurt to let her rest. In the meantime, you had better give the prince a bottle."

I turned over in my bed. "What do I pay my servants for?"

"Your bond will be closer if you're one of the primary caregivers."

Reluctantly, I carried the squalling infant to the kitchen, prepared a bottle as quickly as possible, and offered it to him.

"He won't take it!" I complained.

"It might be too hot, sir," Mrs. Potts advised.

I tested it on my wrist. "Doesn't seem to be." I frowned. "What's that smell?!"

"He probably just soiled his nappy. He may want changed before he eats."

I do not care to describe the process of changing a soiled nappy, so I will content myself to say it was hardly the most pleasant thing I've ever done, and my son did something that made me send the nearest servant to the West Wing to bring me another shirt.

Sitting in the nearest rocking chair, I offered my son the bottle. This time he latched on and began gulping down the contents. I thought things were going well until he started crying again.

Lifting him to my shoulder, I very gently patted his back. He soon produced a small belch…along with a good reason to change my shirt for the second time in less than half an hour.

He still continued to scream. I was exhausted and at my wits' end.

"He's fighting sleep, sir," Mrs. Potts remarked. "If you'll rock him and sing to him, he'll fall asleep, and you can get some rest. Remember to talk sweetly to him. He's only a baby."

Rolling my eyes at the ceiling, I did my best to make my voice patient and sympathetic. "What is it, Beau? Don't you know your subjects will love their future king more if he lets them sleep? Your little tummy is full. Your nappy is clean. Papa is right here."

He settled down a little, but he was still fussy. Against my will, I began singing as I rocked him. I was too tired to feel silly. After what seemed like hours, he finally fell asleep on my shoulder.

I immediately softened. He was so tiny, so helpless, yet he was fully convinced that I could shield him from the world. He didn't know about regicide or political unrest or wicked hags. In his little world, no evil existed. With his needs met, Prince Beau didn't understand what it meant to worry.

With a light kiss on his forehead, I gently placed my son back in his cradle and began walking back toward the West Wing. I too needed my rest, and…

"Sire?"

I turned to address the speaker. "Yes, Cogsworth?"

"Mrs. Potts said to inform you that your daughter's awake, and if I know anything about Princess Amandine, she'll keep crying until your son wakes as well, so you may want to hurry."

Once upon a time, Prince Charming just let the Big Bad Wolf and his friends kill the peasant woman, so the prince never got married or spent all night and goodness knows how many other nights dealing with newborn twins, and he lived happily ever after as a bachelor because being a beast wasn't really so bad when you consider the alternative. The end.