"Belle, duck!" Chip cried in alarm from his spot on the veranda.
Belle headed his warning and jerked aside, but not fast enough to avoid a face full of snow.
"Got you!" the Beast crowed, already arming himself with more snowballs.
"I yield!" Belle declared, flopping back into the snow. She wiped the snow from her eyes, taking a moment to catch her breath. She and the Beast had been having a snowball fight for the better part of an hour and she was exhausted. Happy and in a good mood, but tired.
"Are you sure you yield?" the Beast asked, coming into her line of sight.
"Yes, I am positive," Belle promised, showing him her empty hands. Her last yield had been a fake one, but she was truly done this time around. "I promise, no more sneak attacks."
"Okay, good. So, what do you want to do next?" he asked, holding out a paw to help her off of the snowy ground.
Belle smiled and placed her tiny hand in his, rising to her feet. "I would like to make another snowman, and then we can head back home," she decided, brushing the clinging snow from her dress with her free hand.
"H-home?" the Beast repeated, dumbstruck.
Belle looked up at him, snatching her hand away as though she had been burned. "The castle," she corrected, her voice the barest of whispers, shock and embarrassment flooding through her at the slip-up. "On second thought, I think I'm ready for some tea. I'll just…" She couldn't finish the thought, so she gave in to her instincts and ran back inside. She didn't stop until she reached her room.
The Beast let her go, a slight grin on his face. She had called the castle home. It was a step in the right direction.
But back in the confines of her room, Belle wept at her mistake. She wept from shame, because part of her had meant what she had said; the same part of her who hadn't thought of Maurice in days. She wept from confusion, because if the the castle was becoming home, what did that say about her future?