So long had passed without Beast reading a single book from the castle's grand library with its ceiling-to-wall selections of tomes. With each petal's fall from the rose, he slowly began forgetting the joy of diving into worlds different and familiar, and meeting villains and heroes alike who enthralled readers with their adventures and romances. He near forgot the enchantment of magic and mystery that left a reader spellbound by a lyrical tale with eloquent illustrations painted by a creative hand. He could not remember the last time he had stayed up for hours into the nigh reading just one more chapter. Just one more chapter. One more, and another one or two, until either the sky lightened or the story ended in the small hours of morning.
Until, that is, Belle came along, and with her a deep passion for literature. The open, unapologetic awe in her wide eyes and smile when he had first shown her the library was not lost on him. He could not remember the last time–was this in fact the first time?–he had brought such happiness to another out of selflessness, without expecting anything in return. To be fair, Lumiere had suggested he give her the library, but regardless it was all worth it to see Belle take such delight in the hundreds upon hundreds of tomes available to her anytime she wished.
At first, he didn't expect her to talk to him about much of anything she read–but right away, she asked questions about all the books available in the library, who the authors were, and what they had penned. There were books dating back hundreds of years, some of them with dozens of pages painstakingly hand-written by the hands of those who had long since departed the earth, and there were tomes written in different languages other than French, including German, English, and Italian. Thousands upon thousands of stories and reams upon reams of knowledge waited to be dusted off, opened up, and read once again–if not for the first time in forever.
And again, it was Belle who chattered away with him before the library fireplace, discussing everything she could with him about the stories and knowledge contained within billions of leaves enclosed on the ceiling-high shelves. There was the animation in her hands and the light in her eyes as she predicted what would happen next as she read aloud to him. When he listened, he kept very still and quiet, not wanting to interrupt or disturb such a heavenly voice rising and falling with the cadences of prose, and taking upon the different characters of a book or play–Shakespeare seemed to be a great favourite of hers.
Among all the evenings they spent reading together during the long weeks Belle stayed at the castle, there was one evening that Beast would not soon forget. On this particularly peaceful evening with the rain lilting outside and the fireplace crackling inside, Belle had begun to read, letting him take turns reading aloud too, neither noticing the hours slipping by into the wintry night. Side by side on the couch, barely touching, both engrossed themselves in the world of a tale as old as time, told in lyrical song and rhyme; Beast could tell just how much Belle loved this particular fairytale, and once again, felt that warmth in his heart, knowing he had given her a gift that meant so much to her heart and imagination.
As the hours wore on, neither noticed the night deepening and the stars shifting quietly beyond the frosted windows. The moon and fire created dancing spectacles of light and shadow, cocooning the two companions in a shell of warmth. Neither noticed the hours slipping into midnight, neither voice flagging as they read aloud–one more chapter, Belle promised, and then to bed with them both. But then they were too curious to wait to find out what happened the next chapter. And in the next and the next, until Belle was yawning, the finished book sliding out of her fingers onto the floor, eyes dropping closed as she slumped to one side, her head, shoulder, and arm resting against his arm. He stiffened in surprise at first, just staring down at the sleeping young woman, unsure how to react at first, perhaps a little afraid that if he moved even in the slightest, he might accidentally hurt her. He didn't dare move, stricken by how unafraid she was to just fall asleep against him, eyes closed as she lost herself in a deep slumber after the many hours of reading.
The Beast allowed his eyes to wander from Belle to the windows, surprised to see that the sky had already begun to lighten with the faintest splashes of the oncoming dawn. Little wonder Belle fell asleep almost as soon as she had finished the book! A marvel to imagine how many "one more chapter" moments had passed before the stars started to slowly fade away in the oncoming light of day. He realised now how sleepy he was, and he would have retired to the West Wing, were it not for Belle slumbering against him, deep in sleep, perhaps dreaming about the story they had just read together all through the small hours of night, leading into the first breaths of tomorrow.
But as dawn's first rays began to strengthen the Eastern horizon with gold and scarlet, the Beast allowed himself to relax as dawn lit the library in morning light. Perhaps this wasn't so bad after all, Belle sleeping against him after having read with him all night as the fires burned low. He shifted a little for more comfort, closing his eyes, just for a minute.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was ablaze in late morning sunlight.