The snow fell in soft petals over the imposing gray castle, an eternal winter that was becoming more comfortable by the day. Sheltered beneath a worn, shingled roof sat two figures, one vastly larger than the other. To a very distant observer, it would have looked like two young people who were courting. But the truth was far more fantastical.

Belle pushed the snow with the tip of her brown leather boot, listening with rapt pleasure as the deep baritone voice beside her resonated throughout her body. Beast sat close to her on the stone bench inside the gazebo reciting Hamlet, his hulking frame radiating pleasant warmth in the small space "This to thine own self be true-"

"What is your name?" Belle interrupted. As much as she wanted to continue the play, this question had been nesting in her head for some time.

Beast's sapphire blue eyes tore themselves from the tome in his lap to stare at her, "What?"

"Well," Belle continued, shrugging her shoulders beneath her cloak, "it doesn't feel proper to call you 'Beast' when that isn't you're name. It's rather rude really."

"Hmpf," he looked thoughtful beside her, "To be quite honest, I haven't heard my true name in a very long time. The servants always refer to me as master. I suppose one just gets used to titles."

"Well," Belle grinned, "shall we play a game then?"

"Oh?" Half of the Beasts mouth quirked up into a smirk, "And what game would that be?"

"I will try and guess your name."

The Beast barked out a laugh. Had Belle not been around him for this long already, the loud sound would have been startling. For a moment, it seemed as though he would refuse, but he only focused his stunningly blue eyes to her brown and said quite seriously, "I could just tell you, you know."

Belle waved a hand flippantly at him, "Please, where is the fun in that? Shall I start now? No hints!"

He chuckled, "Alright, alright. No hints."

She leaned forward, seeming to inspect his face. Her proximity was startling. Deep in his powerful chest, Beast could feel his heart picking up a wild tattoo; dear heavens she smelled nice. Like tea and vanilla.

Belle snapped her fingers, "Your name is Jeàn!"

Beast snorted, "Not even close."

"Hm," Belle's dark eyebrow raised, "Raul then."

"Are you mad? My father was a terrible man, but not that terrible."

"Leon."

"I may have a tail now, but I certainly didn't have one at birth."

"Paul."

"Certainly not."

"Albert."

The Beast made a gagging noise.

"Oh dear," Belle laughed, "I think I may have lied and could possibly need a hint."

How could such a slip of a girl lift his spirits so high? He loved how her voice sounded like chimes. "Oh come now," The Beast insisted, edging closer to her, "try again. I promised no helping."

Sighing, Belle looked skyward. After a moment of silence she said, "You are certainly not a Francois, nor are you a Louis. No, I believe you have a strong name. Like all of the literary heroes."

"You give me far to much credit." The Beast rumbled.

Belle nudged his arm with her shoulder. She was so small compared to him, so seemingly fragile. He took great care to stay still, pleased when she settled against him, "I feel like you give yourself to little credit," she insisted, "perhaps you are in fact named Lancelot."

"Only if you are Guinevere." He said softly. The Beast had believed he'd spoken quietly enough for her to miss it, but the way she stiffened against him caused him mild panic, "I-I am so sorry. That was out of line, that would insinuate-"

"It's alright," she murmured, smiling up at him, "that is a lovely compliment."

The Beast cleared his throat, looking out across the frozen lake, "Well, my name is not Lancelot either. Do you have anymore guesses?"

Belle looked thoughtfully at him again before saying, "Let me think on it a bit. Will you keep reading?"

The book in his lap opened to the page they had left off on, and The Beast began reading again, as he could refuse her nothing.

After a time, he paused and glanced down at her, "Have anymore guesses?"

Belle sighed, stretching her legs out straight in front of her, "I'm afraid to keep guessing. It's more difficult than I thought it would be."

"May I give a hint?"

"Please."

"My name is not originally from our country. My parents were rather fond of other places."

Belle's brown eyes lit with interest, "Go on!"

The Beast chuckled, "It is only four letters."

The wheels in her mind were turning, what on earth could it be?

"Any guesses now?"

After about a minute it was obvious she was becoming frustrated, "I feel quite silly," Belle admitted finally, "I wanted to be able to guess, but I truly have no idea. I feel like any name I say simply would not suit you!"

Shaking his head, Beast rumbled, "Belle, any name you call me I would answer too."

He noticed her cheeks tinged pink at that, "I've been living in your home and I don't even know you're birth name." She said, "It makes me feel quite awful. I run through any name and they fall flat compared to you. I always felt like my name was misgiven, so I would feel simply awful to-"

The Beast felt the hair at the nape of his neck bristle, "What do you mean your name was misgiven?"

"I mean," Belle looked gestured at herself, "look at me. I'm a simple girl from a village where I am called odd at best. I have no fancy clothes or home, I have freckles and eyes are brown. I am thinner than most girls. My boots are always muddy and my hands have callouses. My hair is always a mess so I have to keep it tied back. I am certainly not fair or considered beautiful by society's standards."

The Beast shook his head, trying to quell the anger surging through him. What kind of a backwards hovel was this village she came from? "Belle," he said, voice low and deep like thunder, "your name is pale in comparison to you, so in that way, yes, it does not suit you. There is no name in anyone's language that could perfectly describe how truly beautiful you are. You are NOT odd. It is not that illiterate sty's business to call your brilliance odd; I can guarantee that you are more educated than any teacher at the school. You have no time to fuss with fancy garments as you are busy with things that are meaningful to you, and all they would do anyway is cover you up until you are no longer visible."

She smiled at that, so Beast kept going, "Your freckles are like constellations, I can see the night sky written upon your cheeks and your eyes are the color of earth; those bring me back home and ground me when I feel like floating away. You are built like a nymph, ready to run and fly away in search of adventure at a moments notice. Your boots are muddy because you take care of chores those stuck up cows in the village are afraid to take on themselves, and your hands,"

Felling bold, The Beast reached for her, looking at her first for permission. Belle nodded, offering her hands to him. He held them carefully, bringing them closer to his face. After a moments scrutinizing, he murmured, "Not a callous in sight. They are soft and fair, like silk." He ran his thumbs across her palms, taking care to not scratch her, "these are the hands of a brilliant mind, the hands of a scholar, of an inventor, and a beautiful woman. And you're hair," he released one of her hands, she letting it fall into her lap as The Beast ran the back of his paw down the side of her face, "it is wild yes, but it very much reminds me of you. Even tied back pieces of it refuse to be tamed. That is one of my favorite things about you. You are a lovely looking woman, Belle. Not just the outside, which, to be quite honest is very striking. But it is what is inside that counts the most. Which is why 'winged cupid is painted blind.' I think your name falls flat to be honest. But it shall do until I can think of something worthy enough of you."

His paw was still against her cheek, now cupping it and her dark eyes were burning into his, "Will you please tell me your name?" Belle asked, voice wavering.

The Beast swallowed, then leaned forward, lips almost touching her ear,

"Adam." He whispered.

Pulling back, he was surprised to see her still looking at him, expression very warm.

"It suits you," She smiled, "Adam."

Oh, merciful heaven.

Belle suddenly looked concerned, "Are you alright? You look like you have been wounded."

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat, before managing to say, "Yes, yes I just have not heard that name in a very long time."

"Would you mind very much if I called you that when we are together?"

"I would be honored." He said seriously, watching with pleasure as the constellations of her cheeks leaned into his palm for the briefest of moments, before pulling away. "Come Adam, will you continue reading to me, or shall I take a turn?"

Unable to speak anymore, He handed the book in his lap into Belle's waiting hands. She began to read out loud, her voice sounding very much like the music of chimes and Adam daydreamed of stars.