Brigitte's POV

She tried to be a lady and stay graceful and quiet like Cherine as the carriage pulled up the drive, but when the door opened she couldn't contain her excitement.

"Maman! Papa!" she cried, sprinting down the stairs and into her parent's arms. She grinned in delight as the warmth of their embrace surrounded her at last, after so long.

"We've missed you, mon ange," her father said, smoothing her tousles hair. "I hope you've taken good care of your brother."

"I did," she assured them. "We played make believe, blind-man's bluff, and Aunt Clarice read to us a lot."

"Wonderful!" he said with a warm smile and bent to kiss her forehead. He touched her cheek gently and looked past her so he could greet Edmund who was waiting more patiently at the top of the stairs. Maman took her hand with her familiar warm smile and together they followed Papa. Her parents embraced Edmund and Brigitte thought she would burst with joy at having her family together again.

"What do you have there?" Papa asked, noticing how she held one hand behind her back.

"Oh, I made something for you as a welcome home gift," Brigitte said, inexplicably embarrassed.

"May we see it?" Papa asked, holding out his hand. She held out the artifact and blushed as her parents took it simultaneously.

"Brigitte this is beautiful," Maman praised, running her fingers over the lid. "Did you do this all by yourself?"

"Grandpapa helped a lot," she admitted, blushing now with pride.

"It's wonderful, thank you mon ange," Papa said and pulled her in to kiss her forehead. Brigitte felt her mother join in on the embrace and Brigitte held her arm out to include her brother, too. Though he didn't have a hand in the gift (he was too young) she didn't want to exclude him.

"You look tired, my Belle," Grandpapa said as the family embrace ended, taking her mother's hand and looking concerned.

"It was a long trip, Papa. I can't say how good it is to be home." Brigitte looked questioningly at her mother, wondering what could be wrong. But her mother only smiled at her reassuringly and led them all inside.

Belle's POV

It was so good to be home; it was a relief to no longer have to be polite to strangers, to force herself to be in crowds when all she wanted to do was find a quiet corner and read. It was also a relief to pretend she didn't hear the snickers and whispers about her history. It wasn't lost on her that most of the nobility who knew of her existence also knew of where she came from, she just wished that it would stop being such an interesting topic. After so many years it should have been forgotten, lost to time, but perhaps their elongated absence from court only fed the topic.

That might be soon to change, she supposed, since they were to play host to a large number of those same nobles in just a few weeks. She enjoyed celebrating the holidays, inviting the villagers to the castle for fun and festivities, but having those rowdy, spoiled nobles in her home for no particular reason made her cringe. Adam didn't much like their situation either, but he had agreed to it because his cousins and their friends left him little choice. They were quite. . . persuasive and Adam, though he had been part of the world for more than a decade now, was still out of practice in playing their games. Belle was strangely grateful for this though; that he was so reluctant to act and manipulate the way these people did was proof of how good his heart was.

Not that these people were bad, Belle mentally corrected herself. Many of them were pleasant, polite, and quite welcoming of her aside from the whispers. That they were born into a world where drinking and gambling were considered a normality was not their fault. Even if they seemed to enjoy it a little too much.

Her children were a wonderful distraction from the imminent arrival of the nobles. Brigitte and Edmund sat on her bed in the West Wing as she and Adam unpacked from their journey, Brigitte chattering as she always did about this and that while Edmund only nodded and added a few words to agree with what Brigitte was talking about. Her two children couldn't be more different and yet they seemed to be so close. Belle knew their age differences got in the way sometimes, and that Brigitte often grew frustrated with her brother when he didn't want to run and play as she did, but it was clear that the brother and sister loved each other. And as they grew older their age difference wouldn't matter as much.

"Tell us about your trip," Edmund asked when Brigitte had run out of things to say.

"It was good," Adam grunted as he piled the last of the empty trunks by the door for the servants to store away later.

"Did you see the king?" Brigitte asked excitedly, leaning forward on her hands.

"It wasn't that sort of party, dearest," Belle laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Oh," she said, looking disappointed.

"There were lots of find ladies and gentlemen there though," Belle supplied. "And lots of dancing." Brigitte grinned and asked for more detail as Belle predicted; her daughter loved the idea of dancing the night away. She was too young for such parties now, but the tale of the Twelve Dancing Princesses got her quite carried away with the idea of it.

"We'll be having some dancing here soon, too," Adam said with a sigh, collapsing on his back on the bed, scattering their children momentarily.

"Really?" Brigitte asked, leaning on her father's chest.

"Mhm. When you're older, you'll be able to come too."

"When I'm older?" she said in disbelief.

"Yes, mon ange. When you're older," Adam replied, not sternly but seriously enough to make it clear she was not to attend these night parties.

"I think going to a party with nothing but adults would be boring," Edmund said matter-of-factly, causing Brigitte to stick her tongue out at him, but he only grinned at her.

"Will Cherine get to go?" Brigitte asked to Belle's surprise.

"Cherine?" she asked, confused.

"She's older than me. She's as old as Chip. Will she get to go?"

"I. . . I don't think so, my darling," Belle said carefully, wondering what Brigitte had been up to those few weeks without her parents to prompt such a question.

"Oh," was all she said, but this seemed to cheer her up a bit.

"So tell us more about what the castle has been up to," Adam asked his children when silence settled over them, outstretching his arms to touch the children Belle knew he had been desperately missing for the past month.

For the next half hour or so, Brigitte and Edmund told them of who did what, what had happened while Belle and Adam had been gone. The least surprising of which was Brigitte's revelation that Cherine and Chip were apparently falling in love. Belle had suspected such a thing might happen after the two first met five years ago. They were shy towards each other, largely ignoring one another, but Belle saw the way Chip blushed when he looked at Cherine even then.

A grunt from Adam interrupted the story her children were telling and they all looked to see that Adam had fallen asleep. Brigitte stifled a giggle behind her hand and Belle looked at him with a sympathetic smile. It was a long trip for them both; Adam didn't like being away from his castle, from his children, and hardly slept as a result. It warmed her heart to see him sleeping as he was now, lying on his bed with his children surrounding him, one lax arm around Brigitte's waist and the other on the bed where it has slipped from Edmund's knee. It seemed not so long ago that he had no hope such a future was in store for him, but there he was, perfectly content, sleeping peacefully at last in the comfort his family had provided for him.

"Come on," Belle whispered, helping Brigitte move Adam's arm so she might climb off the bed after her brother. "We should let him sleep." As quietly as they could, they left Adam sleeping in the West Wing.

"I'm glad you're back," Clarice said day following Belle and Adam's return as they walked towards the sun room, Belle's second-favorite room that was simply full of windows. "Looking after five children is no mean feat, let me tell you."

"So I guess you and Henry are done having children," Belle laughed, taking her friend's arm. "I'm glad to be back, too. Court was. . ."

"Wonderful? Beautiful? Like a fairy tale?" Clarice prompted.

"Dull," Belle finished. "I used to dream of dressing in fine clothes and meeting princes and fine ladies. But the truth is most of them having nothing in their heads but intrigue and cotton. They have every opportunity to learn and study, to do good, but their main concerns only go so far as silks and jewels."

"Sounds like it could be fun," Clarice said with a shrug.

"Well, you'll have the opportunity to find out. We're going to have our own party here in a few weeks, with all the nobles we met at court."

"Are you really?" Clarice exclaimed, clearly excited.

"Really."

"So the people were really that bad?" Clarice asked after a moment of silence.

"Some. There were plenty who were nice enough. And at least one who was a little too nice," Belle muttered as they approached the door to the sun room.

"Oh?" Clarice said, stopping her before Belle could go into the room and end the conversation in front of the children inside. Belle sighed as she realized by Clarice's eager look that she wasn't getting off easy with this.

"His name is Rupert. He's a cousin of Adam's, his second oldest uncle's second oldest son, or something like that. Apparently he has quite the reputation at court for. . . dallying with the ladies."

"How scandalous!" Clarice reveled. "And he obviously went after you, if you're talking about him."

"Not really. . ." Belle started. "It's strange, he was nothing but polite to me. He's seems a genuinely nice person, but then again that's probably how he gets so many women to go with him. It was just the way he smiled at me, or kissed my hand, or stood beside me when Adam wasn't around. . . Well you know what I mean."

"I do. Did you tell Adam about it?" Clarice said, all the laughter gone from her eyes and replaced with concern.

"No," she said shortly, embarrassed.

"You probably should. If Rupert tries that again, I would tell Adam."

"I don't want to make a bigger thing of it than it is. I can handle myself. Besides, Adam's got quite a temper if he loses control. I don't want to get him in trouble."

"A temper?" Clarice asked and Belle cursed herself. She made Clarice concerned by saying that, she could see.

"He's just protective, is all," she tried to amend, but could see she hadn't done much to set Clarice's fears at rest. Hastily, she opened the door before another word could be said, Fleur, Edmund, and Henry playing on the floor inside and halting all unpleasant conversation.

She knew what her friend thought, that Adam had somehow whisked her away from country life and Clarice would know it wouldn't be talk of wealth that would convince Belle to leave all she knew behind. Belle still could not face telling Clarice of the enchantment, how she and Adam had really met. She hadn't meant to keep it a secret for so long, hadn't meant to keep her friend in the dark, but every time Belle had tried to tell her, she couldn't make the words come. Clarice was much more grounded than Belle, was more skeptical of the world. If Belle told her of the enchantment Clarice would think Belle was hiding something worse, or perhaps that she was going mad. Belle didn't want to doubt her friend, but she knew Clarice wouldn't take it well and she couldn't face the repercussions such a conversation would have.

That night she had dinner with her family and it was a relief to be with them again. Her children and her father were a great comfort to her, especially after the chaos of court.

"I haven't told Cogsworth about it," Adam said, telling Maurice about the impending party they had been all but forced to host. "But I'm sure he'll know what to do."

"And he'll have Chip to help him now," Belle added with a smile at her husband.

"That's right, he started that while we were gone, didn't he? I wonder how he has been doing."

"He's doing well, from what I hear," Maurice said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Though a certain someone is missing her friend," he added, looking pointedly over at Brigitte who was doing her best to keep her eyes on her plate. Belle's heart went out to her; it had to have been tough to have her dearest friend suddenly so busy.

"Oh, Brigitte I'm sorry," Belle said to her oldest child. "It must be hard for you to have Chip so busy."

"It's all right," Brigitte shrugged. Belle sensed there was something more to that, but she left it alone. Until it was time for bed, that is.

"Aren't I a little old to be put to bed by my parents?" her daughter asked with a little sigh.

"If you like," Belle said, caught off-guard by this. Apparently her daughter had done a bit of growing up while they were gone. "But your father and I would like to talk about what happened while we were gone."

"What about it?" she asked, sitting on her bed, her nightdress fanning out to her sides.

"Your grandfather made a good point when we were talking about Chip at dinner," Adam said, stepping forward and sitting beside her. "You and Chip have been good friends since you could walk. Now that he has more to do, that he's growing up, you must have something to say about it."

"Not really," Brigitte said evasively.

"Oh, come now," Adam laughed. "You are very good at telling people what you think. Don't stop now." Belle smiled at her husband; he loved his daughter so much, knew her so well. Brigitte cast one baleful look at her father and took a breath.

"I think Chip is in love with Cherine," she blurted out, making Belle blink in surprise and Adam visibly start.

"What makes you say that?" Belle said, stepping forward during Adam's shocked silence. Brigitte told them a story involving blushes and odd conversations, and ultimately her being ignored by her two friends.

"Are you—are you sorry that Chip loves Cherine?" Belle asked carefully.

"No, not like that anyway," Brigitte said. Adam released an audible sigh of relief and Belle shot him a warning look. "It's strange. Chip is like my brother. Cherine is my friend. But I feel like I've lost them now."

"Well, I'm sure that's not true," Belle said earnestly. "New love is difficult, it takes up a lot of time at first. But you can be sure Chip will always be your friend." She tucked her daughter's wild hair behind her ear and was rewarded with a smile. "Now, I'm sure you've been up to all sorts of trouble while we were gone. I want to hear all about it," Belle asked eagerly, changing the topic to one of more fun.

A short while later, both their children safely in bed, she and Adam strode slowly through the castle. It was quiet, most of the servants downstairs, allowing the two of them a little bit of peace.

"She's so grown up all of a sudden," Adam muttered.

"A month was apparently a longer time than we thought. Let's never do that again," she begged.

"Don't have to convince me," Adam agreed quickly. "I just wish we didn't have entertain those people ourselves. I've had enough of it without having it in our home. I feel like we've missed so much because of them. I don't want to miss anything else."

"Brigitte is in that awful time of youth. Not quite a child, not nearly an adult. She's going to be going through quite a few changes. It's going to be a tough time for her the next few years. I wish—" She cut herself off, but felt Adam's gaze on her, compelling her to finish her thought. "I wish I knew what a mother was supposed to do. I was a whole year younger than Brigitte when I lost my mother. . ."

"You are a wonderful mother," Adam said earnestly, stopping her to take her arms gently. "I know you'll continue to be wonderful. You're instincts are perfect. Much better than mine, anyway. I didn't even know what to say when she brought up Chip being in love. I'm not ready for her to start thinking about love. I just froze at the very idea of it. I'm glad that's still far off."

"Don't think it's too far or you'll be taken off-guard. I might have been a late bloomer in romance; most girls start developing crushes around her age," Belle smiled, laughing at Adam's pained expression. "At least you still have Edmund. He'll not be worried about love for quite some time."

"Edmund," Adam spoke their son's name and Belle felt there was some meaning behind it.

"What is it?" she asked, raising her hand to his cheek. Adam sighed and raised his hand to cover hers.

"Edmund is our son, my heir, but—but I don't think I know him very well at all. I know he's only five, but I knew Brigitte completely by the time she was three. She's wild and willful and outspoken. She tells me nearly everything and I always know what she thinks about things. But Edmund is so quiet. He just sits and draws or reads. I don't know who he is, who he might become." She could see it was bothering Adam, had been bothering him for some time. Perhaps it was Brigitte's sudden glimpse of adulthood that brought this up.

"Then get to know him," she said gently. "He has part of your own soul, shy and gentle. You have similar hearts," she continued, putting her hand over her husband's, feeling it beat gently through his shirt.

"Except for the love I feel for you and our children, my heart is still a mystery to me," he said and brushed a lock of her hair from her forehead.

"Then perhaps he can show you a little more of it," Belle replied. "Be gentle and sweet as you are to me, as you were those days after you abandoned your temper, back when we were still only friends." It was a tentative time for Adam, the Beast, a time that might serve him well to get to know his son better as he desired.

"I'll try. I just hope I haven't done any damage to him. I don't want to ignore him as my father did to me. . ." Adam trailed off and Belle could see the memories of his unhappy childhood flash behind his sorrowful eyes.

"Nonsense," she said bluntly. "Edmund knows you love him and it's not fair to compare yourself to your father." Adam smiled and nodded, seemingly accepting this response or at least grateful for it.

Adam's POV

Belle was right; he needed to spend some time with his son, especially after their prolonged absence. So while Belle took Brigitte under her arm to show her how to plan and prepare the castle for guests (a task Adam had not quite mastered but Belle handled with a grace as if she had done it all her life) Adam took the opportunity to seek out Edmund.

Adam was inexplicably nervous as he searched for his son. While Adam had never ignored his son, while he loved him with all his heart, he felt as though his son was a mystery to him. Perhaps it was because by the time his son was born, he was used to Brigitte who declared everything that was on her mind whether Adam asked about it or not. He never learned to seek information from a child because Brigitte offered up everything so willingly. Edmund was a complete opposite; he rarely rambled on about anything, preferring to communicate with smiles or nods. Adam supposed they were alike in that regard; Adam despised making long speeches, and it was only because of Belle that he learned to explain how he was feeling. Perhaps it wouldn't be as difficult to connect as he thought.

Edmund was sitting on a window seat in the library, curled in a corner and looking out the window. Adam stopped short, struck by how much he looked like his mother. Adam had seen Belle sit just like that many, many times before, staring off into the forest that surrounded the castle in the same distant manner. It seemed Edmund had inherited his mother's inclination to daydream as well as Adam's reluctance to speak more than he felt necessary.

"May I sit?" Adam asked as he drew close. When Edmund nodded and smiled, Adam placed himself a little distance away from the boy and noticed how Edmund almost immediately returned his gaze out the window. "What are you looking at?" he asked gently, looking out the window as well.

"Nothing," Edmund replied shortly. "Just thinking."

"About what?" To this, Edmund shrugged. Adam frowned; this was no way to get to know his son. It occurred to him that maybe his reluctance to speak was because he wasn't looking at anything, but imagining things instead. Belle often spoke about her daydreams where she saw knights have battles in the clouds or flowers speaking to each other in fields.

"You know, when I was your age, I didn't have many friends at all in the castle. I spent a lot of time by myself, and that meant I had to make up games to play with myself," Adam started, directing his attention to the forest rather than his son. "I used to sit by the big windows at the end of the hall where your room is, where my room used to be, and watch the trees sway in the wind. I used to pretend I could jump out the window and hop on the pointy tops of the trees, hop right over the edge of the world, and fly off into the stars."

"Really?" he heard his son's small voice ask, skeptical.

"I did," Adam promised, slowly turning to face Edmund. "It's fun to think of impossible things." Edmund nodded and turned to face the window yet again, but this time Adam waited.

"Sometimes I pretend I can fly," Edmund said very quietly.

"Wouldn't that be wonderful?" Adam replied, remembering those lonely years he spent in the castle wishing for a way to be free of the place, to fly away and never return. Edmund drew out his sketchbook, turned a few pages, and handed the book to Adam. Of course Adam had seen many of his son's drawings when his son sketched by the fire after dinner or he glimpsed over the boy's shoulder during story time, but Adam couldn't remember Edmund ever showing his drawings to him. Adam took the sketchbook carefully and realized he was looking at a drawing (and quite a good one for a five year old) of Edmund flying over the tops of the castle's towers, clouds and stars surrounding him.

"This is excellent," Adam praised. "It reminds me of a dream I once had. May I. . . may I look at the others?" he asked carefully, realizing that to be shown these drawings was to look into his son's heart. Edmund agreed after a moment and Adam flipped carefully through the pages. There were pictures of every member of his family and that of Clarice's at different activities and in various combinations: Belle and Clarice sitting across from each other sharing a book, Brigitte playing in the field on the castle grounds, Henry bent over his workbench, Maurice with his magnification goggles on. Edmund had captured nearly every one in his life at the moments where they were most themselves. He was an observer of the world, Adam realized; very little escaped this child, and his clever little fingers captured all of it.

"You are a wonderful artist," Adam said truthfully. "You see every one for who they are. But could I ask why there are no drawings of me?"

"I—I don't really know who you are," Edmund stammered, blushing. "I only really see you working."

"I. . ." Adam stopped, startled by this remark. Had he been concentrating too much on affairs of state? Had he been neglecting his family? Certainly this past month, yes, but before? But if his son, clearly so good at seeing the world around him, said this was true, then it must be. Adam returned the book with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Edmund. I don't like being so busy. Believe me. After this nonsense with the party coming up, I promise—really promise—that I'll stop being so busy." Edmund nodded, but didn't seem convinced. A pang of pain went through Adam's heart as he pictured himself as a boy, pining for his own father's attention. "I have a little time now, would you like to see what I like to do? Aside from being with you and your sister and mother, of course."

Edmund seemed surprised by this, but nodded and Adam led him to the piano room. It was difficult for children to hold memories and Adam wasn't surprised Edmund didn't remember him playing, but Adam was also aware that he hadn't played in quite a long time. Adam sat down at the piano and began to play a merry tune, lively and cheerful and out of the corner of his eye he saw his son grin.

"I thought I heard the piano," Belle said, coming through the open door to join Adam at the instrument, standing behind him, the place where she touched his shoulder pleasantly warm. "Play something we can sing to," she requested. Adam easily obliged and Belle raised her voice to the new merry tune.

"Oh, I love this one!" Brigitte exclaimed, bouncing into the room, joining them and raising her own sweet voice with her mothers. Adam joined in, though his voice was not so pleasant, but no one seemed to mind. Edmund did not join in though, Adam noticed, but sat instead with his sketchbook in his lap, scribbling furiously. It wasn't that Adam didn't know his son until now, it was that he didn't understand how his son expressed himself. Drawing was Edmund; he was observant and gentle and the way he expressed that was to capture the moments of the world. Adam grinned and continued the song, immeasurably glad to be part of a moment worth capturing.