Hello readers! I'm Wolf, this is my first real story on this site (if you don't count my Batman OneShot). Thanks you for your attention, and enjoy!

…And they all lived happily ever after.

Odd it seems that fairy tales end there, and do not show any of the joy shared by the charming prince relieved of his spell and the beautiful princess, his happy wife. But the story of the Beauty and the Beast had only begun where their storybooks ended. Belle and Prince Vincent, now free of his horrible curse, spent two wonderful years together, and were ecstatic when it was discovered that Belle was carrying a child. The birth of that child, however, brought great disquiet back into their household…

Belle saw her husband look eagerly towards the new baby, giddy and excited as a school child to see if it was the boy he so wanted. She beamed back to him, until she saw his face fall, first to sadness and then the usual rage, when he saw the child. He turned swiftly away from it and pounded a dent into the wall, roaring so loudly in his grief that he almost sounded like his former self. Then he left the room, slamming the door behind him, a bit of the ceiling falling to the floor, shaken loose by the force of his anger. Belle panicked and demanded to see her baby, at which the flustered and upset Mrs. Pots hurried to her side and assured her that the baby was alive and seemed healthy.

"Tis a boy, miss," she said awkwardly, handing over the small bundle to his confused mother.

"Oh," said Belle, who was startled but not afraid what she saw when she looked at her son, "Now I understand."

Vincent stormed into his rooms and immediately began to throw his furniture into the walls with shattering results, for though the curse was lifted he still carried with him a somewhat severe temper when provoked and many of his old habits from his days as the Beast. He collapsed onto his favorite chair, which had somehow managed to survive his former self and his more rare fits of temper afterwards. Why was this happening when the spell had been broken, when he no longer carried the weight of the Beast's fur on his back? He had learned his lesson and broken his curse, so how could his child have been born with his beastly appearance? He began to pace his room, tracing his steps of many other days and nights of anguish or unease on his worn carpet. He had to think of something, some way in which he could remove the spell from his child so that the poor boy would not have to grow up a monster.

"Perhaps if I find that witch and kill her," he mused aloud to himself, "Perhaps then the effects of the spell would dissolve leaving a healthy and happy child behind them. Yes, that's what I must do. But how? How do I find a woman who can change her appearance at a whim and surely has more than the two disguises which I have seen? There's no chance, not even with all of my best soldiers searching for her, that I could even come close! I've sentenced my son to exile and abuse just as I sentenced myself!"

Vincent again collapsed into his chair and was close to tears with rage, guilt, and sorrow when an idea struck him. He could use the mirror!

"Ha!" he exclaimed, jumping up and racing for the table where he kept the stem of the magic rose and his magic mirror, "That witch should not have been so conceited! Mirror," he said, addressing the mirror now in his hand, "Show me how to find the witch!"

In response to his demand the mirror did not show him an image of a map or of some faraway castle where the witch abided, as he had hoped, but instead revealed the face of the witch herself, a soft smile hovering at her lips.

"Did you really expect me to be such a fool Beast?" she asked sweetly, "I do prefer the term enchantress over witch you know. The word witch implies a haggard old woman bent over a cauldron, which is only the form I take if I am so inclined and not my real appearance."

Vincent did not bother to correct her mistake in calling him Beast, for he had much more important things to say to the woman, but inwardly he lashed out at her, screaming that he had a name and that the name of Beast no longer suited him. He doubted that she would ever see him as anything accept the Beast she had made him into.

"But a witch is what you are," Vincent replied through bared teeth, hardly able to contain his temper, "What else would you call a woman who uses magic to torment impertinent children and sentences men to live their lives hidden in the shadows? But I am no longer the Beast. I have learned the lesson that you so desired to teach me and the spell was broken. Is it not enough that I suffered for my sins for ten years before my curse was lifted? Why do you punish my son, who is innocent?"

"Consider it a family trait Beast," the witch replied, her smile growing slightly, "Who is to say that he will not grow to be as terribly mannered as yourself?"

"I say it!" Vincent replied, no longer able to keep his voice down, "I was an orphan, with no mother or father to teach me my place and only servants in their station, whom I could freely order. My son will be a better man than I am, because I will be there to show him how!"

"Show him how to, say, lose his temper?" the witch replied, her smile softening again with lack of interest.

"Why do you punish an innocent child for the sins of his father?" Vincent cried out in anguish, "Release him of the curse, for he has done you no wrong!"

"I am truly sorry, Beast," the witch replied in a tone that stated she truly was not, "I am afraid all of my curses are irrevocable, unless the original conditions I set down are met. Your son will just have to do as you have done and find a woman who can love him as he is. Oh, I almost forgot something!"

At this the witch waved her hand and the stem of the rose, which had been dead and shriveled, suddenly became alive again, floating as it once had, and on its end a small bud appeared.

"That should make everything the same as it was for you in your confinement," she said with surprising venom beneath her crooning voice, before it softened to her previous tone, "But in honor of your heartfelt plea on his behalf I will change one condition for your son."

At this Vincent, who had begun to turn away from the mirror because of the old hopelessness stirring newly in his heart, looked up, taking some consolation that his son could still have an easier time in this curse than he had. Then he saw the smile on the witch's face dissolve into a grimace of utter rage, distorting her lovely features in its pure hatred.

"Your son may have until his twentieth birthday to solve his dilemma, lest he remain the Beast for all his days!" she screeched.

Then, before Vincent had a chance to reply to her comment in any way but the shock his face betrayed, the witch vanished from the mirror to leave him looking at his own reflection. Disgusted with the face he saw reflected, he turned the mirror over and laid it on the table gently, for fear of harming the young rose. He then went to the closet on the other side of the room and removed the glass casing which had once protected his own magic rose. He walked over to the table and carefully placed it over the new bud, shielding it from dirt or dust that could make its petals fall prematurely. He would protect this rose better than he had ever protected his own, for now it was his son's life at stake.

He then fell into his chair and was near despair when Mrs. Pots knocked timidly at the door.

"Master?" she said uncertainly, opening the door a crack to peek in, "The Mistress wishes for you to come back to the nursery."

"Why?" Vincent asked morosely.

"She wants you to meet your son, sir," said Mrs. Pots, with just a hint of disapproval in her tone of voice for his temperamental reply.

Vincent sighed.

"Very well then," he replied, and he let Mrs. Pots guided him back to the room.

Belle looked up with a warm motherly smile as Vincent walked back into the room, pulled along by Mrs. Pots. He stared back at her, his face surprised, as if he had been expecting her to be weeping.

"Come here, Vincent," she said gently, "Meet our son."

Vincent came forward slowly, as if he feared that his son would be doubly cursed if he was seen. Or perhaps it was hesitation in the face of his own fears, for he had hated the face that this child now carried more than anything. Vincent finally looked down to the child, the grief already evident on his face.

"Give me your hand," Belle said, firmly but gently enough that he didn't think she was trying to order him around.

Vincent did as she said and she pulled his hand toward the baby, thinking that touch might help him to connect with the child, to be sure that he was really there. He did not pull back and so Bell continued to guide his hand until it touched the baby's chest. The little one woke immediately when he was touched, but did not cry. Instead he cooed and grabbed his father's fingers as though he was already aware of his relation to the person they belonged. Just as Belle had hoped, Vincent did seem to relax a bit when he touched the child, and now he wore a sort of reluctant fatherly smile which she knew had to be a good sign. He began to stroke the baby's hand and seemed delighted when the child put the affectionate finger into his mouth for a more thorough examination.

"What should we call him?" she asked, seeing that it was safe to move on to the subject.

"Well," he began, but was interrupted when little Henri, Lumier's eldest son of only three years old, pushed past Mrs. Pots and demanded to see his new little master.

The King and Queen both smiled and nodded to Mrs. Pots to let him through, but upon seeing the baby Henri proclaimed in surprised delight that the Mistress of the house must have decided to get the puppy he had been asking for rather than a new baby. Some of the maids giggled in the background, and some, like Vincent, took a grave look. Belle just laughed.

"This is no dog, Henri," she scolded lightheartedly, "This is your new prince. We were just about to decide what to name him, so it seems that you're just in time."

"Really?" squealed Henri, "I can help name him?"

"I don't see why not," said Belle, giving Vincent a sharp look to snap him out of his grouchy mood.

"Of course," Vincent said, seeming to understand her meaning, "We need all the good ideas you can think of."

"Could we name him Fido?" asked Henri innocently.

"That is no name for a little boy Henri," Belle said gently, "I was thinking that we would call him Emile."

"But Madame," said Henri, trying his best to copy her gently scolding tone, "That is not a proper name for a puppy."

"Mrs. Pots," Belle said, half laughing, "I think it's time that this young hoodlum be returned to his mother."

Mrs. Pots agreed with a matriarchal smile and began to lead Henri out of the nursery and to the library, where his mother was most likely dusting. Belle looked back to Vincent, smiling and hoping that his face would not be too severe. And his expression was not an angry one, but one of sadness. He quickly smiled back to her, not wanting to worry her.

"Emile?" he said, changing the subject.

"Emile it is," she replied, smiling down at her baby.

But for all her attempts to hide it, fear and worry for her child were ever present in Belle, especially when they discovered that any child born after Emile withing the boundaries of the castle transformed into a utensil or knick-knack just as the servants had when the curse was first laid upon the castle. The first was Cogsworths's son, born when Emile was three. The child took the form of one of the thousands of strange inventions which Belle's father had provided the castle with, an alarm clock. There were several other children born to the gardeners who transformed into shears, rakes, and a shrub. And then there was Lucy, Lumier's little daughter. She turned into a candle and soon grew to be Emile's greatest fan, one might say, and had taken to following him around the castle. Belle hoped and prayed that there would be an answer, that he could somehow overcome the curse which had distanced him from those who so dearly loved him.

Once upon a time…

All of the good stories seemed to start that way, and then they went into tales of unlikely romance and impossible loves. Rhonwen's parents had one of those stories behind them, and even though they had been married for over twenty years she could still see they glitter of new love behind their eyes when they looked at one another. Yes, they could still recall their first meetings with great clarity, how the queen, then just steadfast Rapunzel, had confronted the king, then the infamous thief Flynn Rider, with the tail end of a skillet on first sight of him. Then, of course, they had gone on a great adventure in which false names were shed and everything changed so much for both of them that they soon found themselves King Eugene and Queen Rapunzel, rulers of the entire kingdom.

Currently they found themselves in a huge, richly decorated, and luxuriously supplied royal carriage with their daughter, on the way to the kingdom to the southeast of her's for another of those boring annual Conference of Kingdoms meetings (whoever named it that needed to be taught a lesson in grammar with a scourge!). It was the first time in her lifetime that any of the other kingdoms were invited here, and she had enjoyed seeing the beautiful countryside. Yet when one sits in the same place for too long a time, as Rhonwen had, even blue velvet seat cushions filled with goose down could be uncomfortable. Rhonwen sighed and looked out the window, pressing her fingers against the cool glass. Why could she not be a part of one of those fairy tales herself? She had everything she needed to be part of a fairy tale; she had incredibly long magical glowing hair that could heal any wound or illness, and she had the necessary adventurous spirit, which was aided by her father's teachings in "adventurous behavior." A soft smile played at Rhonwen's lips when she thought of her father teaching her the best ways to sneak into a guarded room or insisting she be taught to use a sword (and a skillet). Her father may have been a king and had no further reason to steal but he was still a ruffian at heart.

Rhonwen idly started to play with the end of her braid and began to think about her hair. Of course her parents and the entire kingdom had been overjoyed when one of the royal twins, Rhonwen, had been born with the same magical hair that her mother had lost in her adventure. And she couldn't complain when she saw the people she helped every other morning when the poor were brought into a special room in the castle and she spread out her hair and sang her song to heal them. So many people had been healed from terrible ailments by her hair and for that she would always rejoice. If only it wasn't so heavy the rest of the time. She had to have a few servant girls help her brush it out and braid it every day, she needed help reaching it all when she bathed, her brother, Rufus, was constantly pulling at it whenever he wanted to irritate her, and worst of all she could never go swimming in the pool in the palace garden because the weight of her hair would pull her down. She had begun to pout slightly when her father pulled her out of her thoughts to start a conversion; none of the people in this carriage liked too much silence.

"So, Rhoni, are you looking forward to seeing some of the young royals?" Eugene asked.

"As long as none of the princes propose to me, I'll be fine," she replied sarcastically.

"Well, I can't blame them," her father remarked, "Such a pretty girl right in front of me and I'd probably propose too."

"Ha Ha, you're so funny," she retorted, "I may already be eighteen but I don't think I'm to the point of accepting marriage offers from men I hardly know. I can't be that desperate."

"Honey, you know most of them are probably good boys," Rapunzel chimed in, "You should give them a chance. You never know, one might be nice."

"That's the problem mother," Rhonwen said despairingly, "I never know. I never really know who these men are, just that they're princes or noblemen and that they want to marry a royal. I'm not saying that I don't like princes, I'm sure that some of them are great guys, but it just seems awkward to agree to marry someone by mail, or meet them for the first time when they propose to you over tea."

Eugene and Rapunzel knew each other better than anyone else knew them when they agreed to be married, so they must have seen the humor in such situations themselves from time to time. Rhonwen continued, sure of her parents' approval.

"I'm not saying that I won't marry a prince, or even that I won't allow a diplomatic marriage, but the guy has to show some interest in knowing me as a person and not just the rank of a princess. And I would prefer it if he did so before he asked me to marry him," she said.

"I agree with you, of course, dear," Rapunzel began when she finished in her short burst of laughter at Rhonwen's last comment, "My only hesitation is that you might wait for too long and not ever find a husband who suits your ideal. Most of the other princesses were betrothed years ago, but few are married. The couples took time to get to know one another. If a prince begins with a proposal, you always have my permission to say no, but try to make it clear that it isn't a complete rejection, just a 'not yet.'"

"Yes mother, I'll be sure to remember that," replied Rhonwen happily, "and if any of them choose to continue then you'll be the first to know."

"While we're on the subject," entered Eugene, "I heard that this King Vincent…"

Here Rapunzel interrupted him before he could continue. He had been having an argument with King Vincent since the day they had met about the way Vincent's name was pronounced and it had gotten to the point of being irritating for Vincent. Rapunzel and Belle both tried their very best to keep their respective husbands from fighting, but whenever they met there was an ongoing battle of wits.

"Eugene," she said admonishingly, "Don't pronounce his name wrong! You know how he reacted last year. It's Vaun-SÁN not VIN-Sent."

"Whatever," Eugene replied tiredly, for they had been through this before, "I hear Vin-SONG has a son, and one is about your age. He hasn't tried to propose yet, maybe you should try him first."

Both Rhonwen and Rapunzel rolled their eyes as he deliberately mispronounced the name again, but neither of them bothered to interrupt him. In some things Eugene was just incorrigible.

"Maybe, father, if he's nice," she replied, smirking, "But have you considered that he could already be promised or have a sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I know, just an idea that's all," Eugene said, and then suddenly, "Rhoni, I hope you know how much I appreciate you coming with us. I have to have some entertainment at these sleepy affairs, and I know you technically come to learn diplomacy, but if I was in a room surrounded by haughty royals I wouldn't have the control not to use some 'undiplomatic' language without you there."

Rhonwen laughed as Rapunzel gasped in mock astonishment and slapped her husband gently on the shoulder.

"You call me a stuffy royal?" Rapunzel asked, laughter already dancing in her eyes.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation and they both began to laugh in earnest.

"You'd better watch out," Rapunzel said through her snickering, "I may be forced to bring out my skillet!"

Eugene ducked and covered his head in mock fear, making Rapunzel laugh all the harder. Then the coachman opened his window to announce how close they were and the royals tried to quickly collect themselves in order to present themselves with some dignity.

"The palace is just 'round the corner, highnesses," he said politely.

"Thank you, Gerald," replied Eugene, and the little shuttered window was closed.

The royal family began to clean themselves up, brushing the wrinkles out of their clothing and tweaking Rhonwen's braid so that they could carry the appearance of royalty as soon as they stepped out of the carriage. Eugene was patient and held the extra strands of hair while Rapunzel made the last few adjustments to Rhonwen's hairstyle and then they waited silently for the carriage to stop. It slowed gently to a stop a few minutes later and the large doors on the side of the carriage were opened with great show by their escorts, who had been riding beside them in order to act as guards.

Eugene and Rapunzel stepped out gracefully, Rapunzel's arm gently resting on Eugene's in the classic royal fashion. Rhonwen followed, hands held in front of her in a proper and elegant pose. They were greeted personally by the royal family who were their hosts. The king, a handsome man about the same age as Rhonwen's father, held the queen's arm with the same dignity displayed by her parents and a young servant boy stood behind them, probably to assist with the luggage. When he saw Rhonwen looking at him, he smiled in a way that was courteous and just a tad bit flirtatious. This made Rhonwen inwardly cringe, automatically apprehensive of men her age from the many marriage proposals, but outwardly she smiled in return and tried not to look at him again, for fear of giving him the wrong idea. King Vincent took a step forward with his queen and both gave a small courteous bow in welcome to the visiting dignitaries.

"Welcome to my kingdom," Vincent said in the melodious accent that accompanied his nationality, "I hope that you will enjoy your stay here, and that our negotiations in the international trade will prove fruitful to us both."

Just then some movement in the bushes caught Rhonwen's eye, and she looked over curiously. Just a bush, but she could have sworn she saw fur moving around inside it. Writing it off as a rabbit, she focused her attention back on the royal family in front of her, still slightly uneasy. She could have sworn she was being watched as she was greeted and guided inside.

…to be continued…

Thanks for reading my friends! This is a really fun journey, I certainly enjoyed it, and I hope you will too!