Hi! :)

Yes I ship these two too but mostly the other pair ;) I ship Belle/Beast in the animated version more than this one - you have Luke Evans to thank for that.

Anyway, the idea for this story came about during the second time (...?) I watched it. It was during the scene where the wolves chase Maurice and the camera focuses on the fallen music box for a second or two. The thought just came to me :D

Also, I started writing this before my BellexGaston fic :3

Happy Reading!

Love,
Beth

The snow fell quietly outside, slowly piling on the balcony and coating the windows. The chill of the air floating through a crack in the window matched her aching heart. The warm glow of the chamber's hearth did nothing to comfort and strengthen her. It seemed nothing in this world could mellow and defeat the coldness of the matter.

She stood at the door - dreading to venture from the security of their chambers and into the unknown of her father's room. Anxiety filled her to the brim and she wrung her hands before smoothing them across her skirts. She wore her old blue dress - remarkably surprised it fit the same after three children. It was the one item that she had since the beginning and the one piece of clothing she held dearest to her old life-

The one where Papa was her one and only. Where he always sat in the basement working on his most prized possessions.

"My most prized possessions?" he laughed slightly incredulous. "Hardly, Belle. Music boxes are highly complex in nature and not at all worthy for those who don't understand true beauty." There was a fond twinkle in his eye.

Her laugh joined his and teased, "Papa, are you comparing me to a music box?"

"My dear, nothing can hold a candle to your beauty. Just like your mother."

She smiled softly.

The life where he stood with his endless support and love for his daughter.

She started slightly at the faint touch to her waist. But after a brief moment of regaining her wit, she knew who it was - her husband, the prince. "He never did recover from that winter day," she said. Her voice was hollow and so much unlike her.

He held his own guilt for his mistreatment of her father days before he had gotten to know and then cared for Belle. "I am sorry," he said with sincere apology. He knew now it was wrong of him to treat her father the way he did.

He had been a cold and monstrous beast. And he feared she would never truly accept his apologies.

She leaned against him. "It was years ago," she said tiredly. "This is not on you. It- it doesn't matter now."

"He wasn't treated properly in time," the doctor sighed in a hushed voice only she could hear. "It's caught up to him. There isn't much medicine can do."

She met her father's unaware blue eyes. For all he knew it was a passing cold.

"I'll be alright, my dear," he said with surety.

She smiled and kissed his forehead. "I know."

The chambers felt colder in her absence.

Called to her father's bedside again. Each time she left the room to go to him, Adam held his breath, fearing this would be the last time she witnessed her father alive. He stared into the flickering fire as his thoughts turned empty.

The soft patter of her footsteps and her figure in the doorway brought him back.

He noted fresh tear-tracks down her cheeks. He stood. "The doctor?" Could he do anything more? Was he able to save him?

She struggled in keeping in her sob but it was no use. "He-"

He went to her and pulled her close - her tears immediately soaking his clothing. His heart cracked at the sounds of her sobs and he fell helpless knowing he could do nothing to soothe her. Yet he never pressured her to stop and speak.

And she clung to him as the emotions flooded through her.

After several moments, her cries came to a quiet and solemn end. She still hiccupped but the tears had stopped.

Her eyes moved to the windmill music box her father had made long ago, sitting on the table. She turned the crank and soon the sweet melody filled her ears - as it had every single night since Adam recovered it. She allowed herself to take a breath.. perhaps its music would sooth her this long night. Perhaps it would remind her of the days her father was well. Of the days she spent as a child - carefree and young. Of the memories she held dearly of everyone she ever loved.

Her eyes slid closed and the song enveloped her.

Adam held her, gently swaying her with the small tune.

"What's this?" she asked with a wide smile as her husband set the box in front of her.

His eyes matched her excitement. "Open it."

She unraveled the neat bow Mrs Potts no doubt had tied and lifted the lid. "Oh," she breathed in awe. She lifted the precious music box her father thought he lost all those years ago in the woods. Here it was - fully restored. "How did you...?"

"Found it still in the forest. Mostly untouched. Had it fixed," he replied.

Her excitement grew. Papa would love to see it again! "I'm going to show him."

"He's out with Anne and the boys," he reminded her.

Her excitement didn't wither. "When they return," she continued. She stood and threw her arms around Adam's neck. "Oh thank you, my darling! This is indeed a very welcomed surprise!"

"With pleasure, my dear," he grinned.

The music was sweet and nostalgic.

She knew the tune by heart. She knew every gentle beat. But somehow it did not break her heart to hear the tune tick to a slow stop in the middle of the song.

Adam shifted. "It's stopped," he observed carefully. He looked to his wife who remained still. "I can have it repaired-"

But her head shook. "No. Don't. Leave it." She sniffed and swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. "It's- it's alright. Let- let him rest." She smiled faintly. "Papa always said it reminded him of her, and now- he- he's at peace with her. As it should be."

"Would- would you like this to be buried with him?"

Her mouth twitched with a fond smile. "No. It shall be a reminder of him and their love."

"My, what's this?" Maurice beamed curiously at the opened ribbons and box.

Belle set out the carefully restored windmill. "Adam found it in the woods a few days ago. He had it repaired. Oh Papa-"

He traced his finger across the delicate work- his delicate work. "I never thought I'd see this again. I thought I'd lost it forever-" He sat down and took in what he was really seeing. His hand shook and a lump formed in his throat. "I thought I'd lost her again."

She kissed his cheek and left him to hear his music- their song.