What's in a Name?

It had been three weeks since he'd first shown Belle the library, and since then she'd devoured the rest of her favourite novel (which the Beast happened to have a gorgeously illustrated second edition of), sobbed late into the night over the sequel she hasn't known existed, climbed roughly twenty shelves to find a suitably challenging English novel (it ended up with Belle looking up every fourth word in a blue and gold-bound dictionary; she was woefully out of practice but finished it in two weeks) and now, finding another Shakespeare play to read. When Belle first discovered the bookshop in the village, Monsieur Donmarché, the owner, had sent her off with a tattered copy of Macbeth and roughly told her to read it all the way through before borrowing anything else from his shop. Two days later, much to his surprise, a weeping Belle came in clutching the volume to her chest like it was her child, while managing to sob out the words, "Why did he /do/ all those terrible things, Monsieur?"

Much surprised, he asked her, "Who, Macbeth?"

"No, Monsieur," the girl replied through a sob. "Monsieur Shakespeare. Why does he make us cry for such an awful man?"

They were firm friends from that day forth.

Now, Belle found herself confronted with all 37 plays, obviously acquired in some sort of collection - the bindings were all a deep red colour, almost purple, with the titles and some decorative leafs embossed in a glittering gold colour on the spine. Directly above and below them were the plays in English and, oddly enough, Italian; the one in blue and silver, the other in green and gold. Gently dragging the pads of her fingers along the French collection, she marvelled not only in the wonders of the written words within, but the beauty of their casing. She shut her eyes, unable to decide on one from their own merit, and poked one of them in the spine with her index finger.

Opening her eyes, Belle saw fate had picked Romeo and Juliet as the play to read. She grinned quite suddenly, knowing that whatever kind of story this turned out to be, the Bard wouldn't let her down. She slid it out with a little effort, and blew the dust off the cover. That was the other thing she'd noticed about the library; all the books, though in pristine condition, looked like they hasn't been touched in about ten years. She had little doubt that someday the Beast would tell her the reason behind the strange mysteries he surrounded himself with, but for now Belle just enjoyed herself in this paradise he had given her.

Clambering quickly down the wooden ladder she was currently perched upon, Belle picked up her skirts and half-skipped across to the little settee closest to her and one of the fires. She quickly settled herself on it, spreading out her deep, pansy-purple dress around her and letting the heat of the fire melt her frozen fingers (the bookshelves were many things, but warm was not one of them). Glancing out the window, she saw snow falling unhurriedly through the diamond-shaped panes that already were being embraced by frost. The dark trees of the forest beyond provided a strict monochrome contrast that would please any budding artist. But Belle was already flipping through the first few pages, stopping with a slight gasp at the title, 'The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet'.

It was then that the Beast popped his head shyly around the door. Almost reflexly, his blue eyes softened and his face relaxed when he caught sight of Belle. If he had been human, he would have smiled faintly; as it was, he appeared to minutely bare his teeth. If she had looked up, Belle would have known by now that this was the closest the mysterious 'man' came to a smile. She was too engrossed, however, in trying to get past the endless lists of characters and lists of Shakespeare's other works and start the story.

The Beast cleared his throat.

Almost immediately, Belle turned to look at him. He thanked God she no longer feared him as she had, but the Beast knew he was a long way off becoming her friend.

"Are you finished the English book already!?" He remembered briefly, as if from long ago, his black haired, brown eyed brother attempting to teach him English from that very book, in this very room. Eventually Charming had given up in exasperation, muttering insults about his little brother's intelligence under his breath.

"Yes - I was rather out of practise, though, I had to stop and look at the dictionary every three sentences!" She was smiling; ruefully? With humour? He didn't know, but he knew he wanted to find out. In return, he lifted his lips above his canines, and Belle seemed to understand perfectly that he was smiling.

"So, uh, what are you reading now?" He could tell it was Shakespeare from the binding; it had been a birthday present from the King when he was ten. By then the Beast (why does he do that? He KNOWS he has a name - why can't he remember it?) hadn't seen his father for 6 years. He was gifted the English and Italian versions for the following Christmas and eleventh birthday; his last birthday as a human.

"Romeo and Juliet."

Lost in thought, it took the Beast longer than usual to remember the conversation he'd been having. When he did recall everything, he glanced up at Belle, wondering how she would react if he asked her -

"Would you - mind - uh - reading aloud?" Inwardly he cursed himself for such awkward language, but it had been nearly a decade since he had asked for anything, and he had a strange feeling that if he heard the story, he would know how to break the spell. Looking at Belle's blank look, panic overwhelmed him.

"You know - never mind, it - it doesn't matter -"

"Beast."

He looked at her again. She was smiling, but he knew now it was a gentle smile, one that rebuked him for his stupidity.

"Sit by the fire, I'd be glad to read aloud."

More aware than ever before of his animalistic body, he curled up beside the fire like he had seen Pojo the kitchen dog do when he was little. He turned his face towards her, drinking in the sheer - not beauty, that was too obvious - the - the /musicality/ she exuded.

"Two households, both alike in dignity..."

Quietly, like a half-remembered lullaby, a name slipped into the Beast's mind that claimed him for its own.

Adam.