Author Replies:

The Green Archer: Thank you, it's good to be able to post some more of this story. Oh absolutely, Adam's stunted socialisation and depression as a result of the curse robbed him of any chance of being able to navigate his teenage years with any normalcy, Belle would be such a shock to him with her much more worldly view of things, especially coming from outside the noble world. It's natural Adam would be a little dazzled by both Belle's personality and her physical presence, you really feel that portrayed in the movie, so I think it's very important to keep that sense of longing and puzzlement in Adam's attitude, he needs to grow to be a more fully formed person mentally, which will ultimately accumulate in his transformation back to being human, and an adult one at that. As for Christmas... it's all written about below, thank you for reading.

Chapter Eight: Quay tout a changé...

Beast was bored.

Scratch that.

He was beyond mere boredom, and was instead heading into greater emotions, such as something akin to bordering on anger.

Annoyance. Yes, that's the right emotion. Annoyance. Annoyance to the point of passing out.

Beast didn't know how much longer he could just twitch his paws and eye off his prattling servants before getting up and leaving. Or throwing one of them out the window.

Either or either, as the English say.

Perhaps the enchanted Prince's emotions were justified in the eyes of any man who hadn't the slightest bit of interest, or inclination, towards fabrics, (or any feminine lines that didn't include a visual inspection of the curves of the actual female form.)

To put it in plainer terms, Beast had grown tired the pass two days of being shown fabric after fabric, and pattern after pattern, for the gowns for Belle's Christmas gift, in the continuing efforts of the castle tailors, Madame de la Grande and the ever-cheerful Lumière.

Now, sitting in this dim room to find appropriate final choices, (the day before Noël,) Beast was shivering in the late afternoon chill, perched upon a simple, carved chair in the corner of the tailor's quarters.

After yet another comparison between hand-stitched, white lace for the sleeves of the ballgown, or fine chiffon, (which led to a further discussion of what shade of yellow chiffon should be used,) the prince finally reached his breaking point and got to his feet.

"Look, I am not a tailor, or a fop, and you all know very well Belle is a simple girl. I don't think she'd like anything to overdone and I don't want to see her in anything ridiculous either!" He pointed at two, (of the five,) half assembled gowns. "That red one with white fur, and the yellow one without any lace. Make them simple, make them nice. Have them ready for tomorrow. I'm done."

Beast whipped his cloak around behind him and stalked out of the room (before his shocked servants could say a word,) resorting to mumbling to himself. "You would think I was a glorified tailor instead of the Master of this castle..."

"How are the dresses for Miss Belle's gift coming along, Master?" A warm, motherly voice interrupted the prince's mumblings and Beast glanced down to see Mrs Potts looking back up at him curiously.

"Just fine." Beast replied through his teeth, then softened his tone. "Has Belle returned with Chip and Cogsworth yet?"

Belle had requested to go out to the grounds to pick some holly and ivy to help decorate the castle. Beast, grateful for the distraction so he could prepare the young woman's present, had allowed this, provided she took Cogsworth with her. Chip had begged to accompany them, and Mrs Potts gave permission for her youngest son to do so.

A look of concern passed over the features of the head maid turned teapot. "No, they haven't. And it's becoming quite dark out there," Mrs Potts glanced over at one of the long windows in the hall. Beast also glanced to the side and noticed that not only was the grey sky darkening, but heavy black clouds were gathering, signalling a snowstorm was on its way.

"They should have been back by now. I told Belle to not leave the grounds and Cogsworth would never disobey my orders at least, he would have come back here promptly," the enchanted Prince shook his head. "Something must have happened to them. I'll find them," Beast looked around. "Where's a lantern?"

"There should be some lanterns in the stables," Mrs Potts nodded in the direction of the stables. "Sir, I wish you would take someone with you, take Lumière—" she tried to interject before her Master cut her off with a wave of his paw.

"I won't risk him, my fur will protect me against this cold," Beast refused, raising his brow. "I'm not a child, Mrs Potts, and certainly strong enough to take down a bull. I just hope the wolves find this weather too cold to venture out in," he pulled his cloak about himself.

"I'll be back soon. Stoke the fires and boil something in case...for Belle."

Mrs Potts nodded and watched worriedly as Beast rushed past and headed for the stables, "Please God, let my dear baby, Belle, Cogsworth and dear Adam be safe," she whispered, her blue eyes glassy with tears, which she quickly sniffed away.

I mustn't cry, I must go do something practical. Master Adam will find them. Angela assured herself, hopping away from the window.

-:-:-:-

Beast walked out of the stables with the lit lantern in his right paw. The snow hadn't started to fall yet, so there was still a good chance of finding Belle's tracks at least, and maybe even the much smaller, square tracks from Cogsworth. He followed down the snow-covered path, knowing his grounds like the back of his hand (–paw, rather. Beast thought wryly,) meant it was easy even as it grew darker to navigate Belle's possible trajectory.

Beast sighed in relief when he located the first set of footprints, Belle's delicate footsteps had left minimal shifts in the snow, but they lead just outside of the castle grounds. He put his left paw over his eyes like a visor and saw that the tracks reached the eastern gate...and went beyond the open, sculpted iron gates, which swung to-and-fro in the ever-increasing winds.

Under other circumstances, Beast would have been furious that Belle had disobeyed him. But the worry over what could happen to Belle out there overtook that anger. Besides, it would have something to do with Chip as well, the boy was always trying to venture outside of the grounds.

Beast growled and dashed over to the gate, looking down at the tracks in the snow, he saw they led into the Forêt Noire and he rushed headlong in that direction, pushing away the swinging gate and running as fast as he could. After entering the forest, after a few miles, it began to snow and the enchanted prince luckily discovered before they were completely covered, that the tracks didn't go deep into the forest, rather they took a turn and were heading back towards…

The prince paused, his cloak whipping about in the heavy winds. Would they seek shelter in the mausoleum?

Beast nodded his head, it made sense. Something deep down was telling him to head in the direction, via the short-cut he used to take as a boy to visit his father. Cogsworth had a brain somewhere in that wooden head of his and if something had happened or they were lost…

But the mausoleum would offer little but shelter from the falling snow. It would be freezing cold, and Belle could have already…

"No." Beast hissed between his teeth as he took off in the familiar direction of the Gascogne royal mausoleum. Not Belle. Not my Belle...

The prince pushed through the hovelling winds and lifted his right arm to shield his face, making his way through the storm with grim determination. I will find her. I will, I will… the words chanted in his head like a prayer as Beast stumbled into a snow drift and struggled his mighty limbs out of the powdery, wet snow and pressed on.

Finally, he arrived at the familiar gate with the Gascogne family crest. Beast pushed it open and found it stiff and rusty from ten years, he was just able to squeeze past it and hurried up the deep snow-covered path to the stairs of the mausoleum. The door was open, and he could hear talking.

"Please Belle, wake up!"

It sounded like Chip and Beast burst into the dank mausoleum, rushing in towards the middle where a huddled figure was being guarded by Sultan, who barked enthusiastically at the sight of his Master and rushed to Beast, who darted around the dog-turned-footstool to fall at the feet of Belle, placing down the lantern.

"Master!" Chip and Cogsworth said together.

Beast ignored them and whipped off his cloak, placing it around Belle, who looked blue and pale. "What have you done?!" He yelled at his servants after a moment, stroking Belle's wet hair with his paw and checking her pulse. She was alive…but her pulse was weak.

Chip shivered and huddled next to Cogsworth, "Footstool ran across the river and Belle rushed to grab him, but she fell in the water when she did." The teacup admitted.

"I think the mademoiselle twisted her ankle as well, sire, she was limping when she emerged," Cogsworth added softly.

Beast furrowed his brow as he bent down to scoop Belle up in his arms, she hung loosely, and he adjusted his grip, "Come, quickly then," he looked down at his small servants. "You'll have to sit on my shoulders and hold on. Sultan can follow well enough."

The prince bent down and Cogsworth took Chip in his grasp and hopped atop Beast, holding onto his mane tightly as the enchanted Prince got to his feet and ran out of the mausoleum as quickly as he dared, clutching Belle tightly to his furry chest.

-:-:-:-

The fire in Belle's room was being stoked by a concerned Lumière and Michel, while the castle doctors were gathered around Belle's bed.

Beast refused to leave his position on the pale girl's right. He had only left for a moment when Madame de la Grande and her dressing staff had stripped the unconscious Belle of her clothing and place her in a simple nightgown, calling back in their Master to lift Belle onto the bed and under the covers.

As he laid her down, Belle's hazy brown eyes snapped open, and she seemed to be looking past him. "Papa? Papa?" She whispered hoarsely.

"Shh, Belle," Beast had tried to calm her down, but the girl struggled as he pulled over the sheets and blankets. It was important to get her warm and comfortable before the doctors could look her over. Belle coughed and sighed deeply as her head fell against the pillow.

"Oh Papa, I was dreaming that you were a prisoner in a castle, and I took your place. The castle was ruled by a Beast…who isn't really a monster. I think he's enchanted like the rest of the castle," Belle murmured, her head turning to the side and Beast frowned in pain. "I think he's really a…oh, he's been very kind to me, Papa…"

Beast, hunched over in the chair he occupied, watched Belle's pale face, (framed by her unbound hair,) alit by both the firelight and the candles on the bedside table. The way the light played across her almost statue-like features, was almost a cruel mimicry of the dreams he'd been having of her coming to him in his room.

The head doctor, (turned into a black leather doctor's bag,) was instructing his assistants-turned-instruments, as they finished binding Belle's ankle, (which luckily was not broken and only sprained,) and he finally lifted himself up from his position of listening to Belle's chest.

"Your highness—" Doctor Pierre Guérir began gently before Beast turned his head aside to face the doctor and interrupted.

"It's not pneumonia, is it?" The enchanted prince whispered his worse fear. His twin sisters had died from their smallpox after contracting pneumonia, and his grandfather had also died from the deadly illness.

Beast still remembered being brought into his grandfather's room near the end of Prince Vincent's life. His grandfather's slender, pale form had swollen up to at least three times what was normal...the current Prince of Gascogne felt faint at the idea of having to watch Belle suffer that same fate.

Doctor Guérir shook himself in an imitation of shaking one's head, his mouth set in a grim line under his grey moustache. "No, your highness. You reached her just in time. However, her fever is very high, and I recommend the mademoiselle to bed rest for the next two months at least if her fever breaks. Otherwise," Dr. Guérir looked grave.

"If she does not awaken in five days, send for the priest, your highness. She will need many prayers."

Beast looked down at Belle. He'd come so close to losing her and was still close to doing so. The prince reached out with his paw hesitantly to brush away a strand of hair from the young woman's forehead, but upon seeing the shadow of his paw reflecting upon Belle's still features, the prince-turned-Beast withdrew his hand, and settled for nodding his head solemnly at Dr. Guérir.

-:-:-:-

The entire castle was hauntingly silent that Christmas morn, (as it had been for the past ten years,) and just as quiet the following three days. Only the distant chants of prayers in Latin, (for the sick,) could be heard echoing from the chapel in the southern part of the Château d'démons.

Beast was slumped over in the large, elaborate pinkish-red upholstered boudoir chair, in what had been his older sister's rooms, and were now the guest quarters of another young woman, with the adorned name of Belle.

For the last four days, the enchanted prince had sat in that aforementioned chair, (only leaving for the briefest of moments to eat or relieve himself,) with his ever-blue gaze firmly on the sleeping young woman in the bed opposite his perch. Every simple murmur from the lips of the feverish woman, or movement of her form, had weighed upon Beast's already tortured nerves, and he thought at any moment if Belle's life slipped from this world, he would not be long for it either.

Just when the pale dawn light had started to filter from the stained-glass windows of the bedroom, the exhaustion from the days caught up with the enchanted prince, and he'd drifted off into restless dreams. Dreaming of the Gascogne family crypt, but with Belle's voice crying out to him, at the same time as his father's.

Shaken awake from one of these unnerving nightmares on the fourth day of Belle's illness, Beast's eyes snapped open suddenly and he smiled in relief when the first this he saw just happened to be the most wonderful, glorious sight in the world he could have ever imagined at that moment in time.

Belle had lifted herself into a seated position amongst the pillows on the bed and was staring at him with a quizzical expression of both sweetness and surprise. An embroidered blue shawl was wrapped around her shoulders, and her loose hair had been combed neatly, resting just below her shoulders and strands of it drifting to her shoulders in soft, brown waves.

"Good morning, Beast."

The enchanted prince felt a relieved smile grace across his features at the sound of that salutation, a little raspy, but full of the sweet nodes of the kind young woman he was falling in love with.

"A very good morning, Belle," Beast reached out with his paw and Belle gave him her pale left hand to grasp. "I thought–we thought we might lose you,"

Belle sighed as she smiled. "I made a promise to stay, Beast. I'm much better now," she looked around, "I would be even more pleased it I had a book or two to read...do you think you could bring me some from the library? I would have asked Mrs Potts, but she left with the Doctor, talking about what sort of food I should eat to regain my strength." She said quickly, before coughing hard into a handkerchief.

Beast nodded his head and rose to his feet, a little a taken back by the assertiveness in Belle's manner, "All right. What do you wish me to bring you?" He tried to keep the concern, at the sound of Belle's raspy cough, out of his voice.

The mademoiselle straightened her shoulders a little. "I think I would like to read something a little more relaxing. Charles Perrault's Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé if you can find it, please," Belle requested with a small smile, a little more softness entering her voice and conduct. "I think I should like to read La Belle au bois dormant. The princess slept for a hundred years, and I feel I've slept just as long!"

Beast chuckled at the small joke. "You haven't been asleep that long Belle," he reassured her, taking her free hand in his paw again. "Only a few days."

Belle blinked her eyes, suddenly looking sad and Beast realised this was why she had been so flippant before. "But I did sleep through Noël," she whispered. "I promised Chip a real Christmas and..." she paused and looked up at Beast, "...oh I hope you didn't punish Chip for what happened. It was an accident, Beast, truly I—"

"Never," Beast interrupted firmly, sitting back down on the chair beside Belle's bed. "I won't punish Chip. I... I could never punish him. And I asked Mrs Potts not to do so either."

The beautiful young woman looked curious. "Beast, on the subject of Chip, I've been meaning to ask, about the crack on the side of Chip," Belle caught the pained look in Beast's very blue eyes. "What happened to him?"

"He got that crack in his side saving my life," the enchanted prince admitted gravely, studying the pale fingers of Belle, still in his grasp. "I was out hunting in the Forte Noire last year. It was raining heavily. I... don't remember what happened to cause it, but perhaps a sudden stop… regardless, I slipped and fell half-way down a cliff. I was unconscious for the longest time."

Beast rubbed the back of his neck, then folded his paws together, resting them between his knees. "When I came to, I was in my rooms in the West Wing amongst the servants. I flew into a foul mood and I grumped I wasn't even fit to be a... well it doesn't matter," he quickly caught himself with a sigh.

"I swiped out with my paw and sent Chip, who was nearby, flying up into the air. He cried out that he'd saved my life and I caught him quickly in my paws...it was then I saw the mark on Chip's side and... I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for being at fault."

Belle reached out with her hand. "Oh Beast. Chip doesn't hold a grudge against you, so you shouldn't blame yourself." She soothed gently, before raising her handkerchief back to her lips and coughing heavily into it.

Beast almost smiled, then looked very gravely down at his course, fur covered paws, Belle, you don't know why I feel so wretched about that crack. What if the spell is broken...then what will that mark do to little Chip? He might be missing a limb or worse, he could have a fractured skull or...

"Tell me, Beast," Belle's soft voice interrupted the abject thoughts of the Prince of Gascogne, who looked back up, "are you all right? Is something else troubling you?"

"No," Beast quickly replied, jumping up to his feet and walking across to the boudoir door. "No, I'll be on my way," he opened the door, and stopped in the doorway. The cursed prince turned and looked over his hulking left shoulder and gave Belle a small smile, revelling in her bright, brown eyes, set in her otherwise muted, pale features. "Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé?"

Belle nodded, adjusting her shawl, "Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé." She affirmed with her own smile in return. "Hurry back."

Beast nodded, almost bumping into the side of the door in his haste to do just as Belle bid. A wide smile on his face as he rushed down the hall, stopping only to startle Lumière and Babette, who were smooching on a side table in front of a gilded mirror. "Lumière! Belle has awakened. Bring her gowns to her room and wait outside. I want it to be a surprise," he ordered,

The candelabra had fallen over, (losing his embrace of Babette,) and looked, upside-down, up at his impatient master. "Oui, your highness," the maître d' replied, offering a small salute with his right candle-stick hand.

Beast nodded and continued on his bolt to the library, forcing himself to do so on his back legs. He knew he had to get out of the habit of moving around on four paws, that way, Belle could start seeing him as almost human, at least if only in his movements.

Coming to an erupt stop outside the huge, double doors of the library's main entrance, Beast pushed open the right door and stepped into the large room. The fire was stoked and there was soft, muted light shining in through the open windows. Heavy snow was still drifting down and had lined the windows with mounds of the powdery white ice.

Wondering into the library, Beast headed for the fireplace to warm his paws and furrowed his brow as he realised something. He knew the name of the book Belle wanted, he could remember the tales of Perrault's being read to him in Christine's sweet voice, but...

It had been a long time since he had read anything...could he even remember how words formed together to make sentences? Beast looked around at the massive library and walked over to one of the lower shelves, he picked up a book and attempted to read the embossed, gold-coloured words on the green-dyed leather.

"The Od—hmm. The Od-e-yes..." Beast squinted his ever-blue eyes over the text, screwing up his face in frustration as he tried to decipher the words, running his paws over the embossed text in an effort to make out the shapes. But the words weren't coming out properly. "The Ode-yessy. The Od—"

"Your highness?" A soft, British Accented voice interrupted the Beast's stumbling annunciation, and the prince turned his massive head to the side and looked down to see a large book opened on a stand. The book had kindly, brown eyes and a full, bushy white moustache.

"Professor Oxford?" Beast realised, recognising the voice. He hadn't seen any of his former tutors in ten years, (not even in all the time he'd been in the library,) but remembered that Oxford, his history and English tutor, had been one of the kinder of his teachers. Cambridge, his geography teacher, and Harvard, the scientific tutor, hadn't been so bad really, despite their attempts to teach him anything.

Master Ennuyeux was the real thorn in his side. Always sprouting verse and poetry, and rarely in the French he was being kept to teach.

Professor Oxford bowed as neatly as he could, "Yes, your highness. Are you looking for a particular book?" The kindly, erstwhile castle librarian invoked as Beast put the book he was holding back on the opposing shelf.

"Ah, yes. Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé. Mademoiselle Belle has awakened and would like to read it." The enchanted prince revealed, and Oxford nodded, motioning with one of his bookmarking ribbons.

"This way your highness." The Professor-turned-book-and-stand creaked along to the other side of the library and Beast followed his former tutor across and through the rows of bookshelves. "The Mademoiselle Belle is quite the bookwoman. We are all quite taken with her, she is most charming and beautiful. I am beyond mere words at how happy I am to hear of her recovery."

Beast merely nodded, for French not being Oxford's first language he could certainly ramble on in it quite well. "We all are." He said bluntly as the English tutor halted in front of a row and pointed with his ribbon.

"There we are, your highness. Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé, a first edition, and here also are the versions in English and German. What do you think would be the mademoiselle's pleasure?" Oxford invoked, Beast shrugged his shoulders. "Oh...well then I believe the French version will be just fine? There it is."

Beast looked down at where the tutor pointed and pulled out the thick, well-worn book. "Thank you. That will be all," he dismissed glibly, and Oxford bowed, before waddling away in relief, leaving his former pupil to his own devices.

Looking over the lovingly worn book, Beast let out a heavy sigh, thinking that there was rarely a day that went past that his family didn't come to mind. What he wouldn't give to hear the voice of Christine one more time, especially reading one of the fairy-stories his older sister had been so fond of.

-:-:-:-

Returning to Belle's boudoir, Beast saw that the head servants and tailors had gathered around two wooden dress-forms.

One held the diaphanous, draped golden-yellow ballgown, crafted in luxurious satin and chiffon detailing with a golden broach shaped into balls in the middle of the bodice. While the other dress, to the right, was crafted of the same heavy satin, but it was in deep red, its bodice was a soft velvet with delicate lace along the collar and front. Little gold rosettes dotted the dress, and it was accompanied by a white fur muff and matching white fur headpiece.

Madame de la Grande had a ready supply of gloves in yellow and white, as well as stockings and all those womanly underthings (that Beast felt uncomfortable thinking about in great detail,) but new, golden stain heeled shoes had been made for the ballgown, and new, fur-lined, wooden-soled, red booties had also been made for the red Christmas dress.

Beast would have wrung his paws in nervousness if he hadn't been clutching the heavy book of fairy stories, and the enchanted prince hoped Belle would like her presents and they would cheer her up. On the way back from the library, he had also thought of something else that could be arranged to bring the kindly, bright spark back to those brown eyes Beast loved so well.

The head servants were gathered in anticipation and the dress-forms, (former assistant dressers,) waddled over to await Beast's word. Clearing his throat, the Prince of Gascogne pulled down the doorhandle and entered Belle's room. Madame de la Grande was chatting away to the young woman in the bed, leaning against the bedpost.

"...and the Master was just miserable while you lay there. He looked so...oh!" Madame de la Grande stopped mid-sentence, and the huge wardrobe jumped away from Belle and bowed deeply. "Master."

Beast raised an eyebrow at the sheepishly grinning former maid of his sister, before turning to Belle with a wide smile and walked over to her side. "Here we are, Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé." He held out the book and Belle eagerly reached out with both hands and pulled the heavy tome onto her blanket covered lap.

"Thank you, Beast," Belle craned her head up to flash that almost-smile at the enchanted prince. "Would you like to sit, and I'll read a little out to you?"

The prince had begun to wring his paws, which he had been unable to do earlier, in his nervousness, "Oh...err, maybe in a moment. I have something for you...and it was meant to be for Noël, but then you got hurt and..." Beast averted his eyes and began to pace up and down. "I have a...a..."

"Beast," Belle interjected into the enchanted prince's rambling with gentle laugh as she coughed into her handkerchief, and Beast reluctantly turned back around to face the lovely mademoiselle, who cocked her head to the side and smiled encouragingly. "Are you trying to say you have a Noël gift for me?"

Beast rubbed the back of his neck and grinned just as sheepishly as Madame de la Grande had done earlier, "Err...yes something like that." He admitted, before straightening his hulking shoulders and looking towards the entrance of the room. "Bring in Belle's gifts."

The two dress-forms stepped inside and spun into the room in a flourished, silk-like motion, stopping at the end of Belle's four-poster bed to show off the lovely garments they wore. Belle's eyes lit up at the sight of the gowns and she held her pale hands to her mouth.

"Oh...oh Beast! Oh, they can't be for me," Belle pulled down her hands and gazed almost desperately up at Beast, who had walked back to be at her side. "They're far too elaborate for a simple village girl like me." She reached out and the enchanted prince happily took her hands as the worried mademoiselle looked back at her gift.

"They are for you, Belle," Beast assured the bemused young woman, patting those tiny hands as Belle turned her gaze away from the gowns and looked back up at the enchanted Prince of Gascogne with an expression of disbelief. "They are for special occasions. The red gown I'm hoping you will be well enough to wear for the celebration we will be having on New Year's Day."

Lumière cleared his throat as he hopped over, manoeuvring around the dress-forms, and then tugged on the edge of Beast's cloak. "Uh, Master? The celebration on New Year's Day?" He queried, and the enchanted prince leant his head down slightly.

"That's right," Beast hissed out of the corner of his mouth, almost with a growl. "The celebration on New Year's Day."

The candelabra got the hint and smiled broadly up at where Belle was now looking at the unusual display between Beast and himself, "Err…oh yes! But of course! The New Year's Day celebrations, we shall certainly make up for missing Noël this year." Lumière lit up his candlesticks. "It shall be a lavish, grand...err..." he noted Beast's raised brow.

"...tasteful, small affair. But there will be much music and entertainment to ring in the new year!"

Belle clapped her hands and let out an excited gasp. "Oh, how wonderful. I'm afraid I will not be able to dance or move very well," she mentioned. "The doctor said it could take six weeks until I can start to walk again. How will I ever leave this room?"

Cogsworth waddled over to stand beside Lumière. "Ah ha, that will be no problem my dear. Our furniture is of the moveable kind and your armchair will be your transportation to and from." He explained, motioning to the pink-velvet, plush armchair Beast had been practically living in the past few days and the chair bowed scuttled across to prove Cogsworth's claim.

Belle smiled and nodded her head, "I didn't think of that, oh..." she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. "...thank you all so much. Thank you, Beast. I'm afraid I'm feeling a little tired," the mademoiselle excused herself, her voice sounding hoarse.

The servants all bowed, "Of course, Mademoiselle Belle," Lumière assured her on behalf of the rest of the staff, adding an extra bow as he hopped away on his golden base out the door. Beast smiled at Belle and moved to follow out his servants, when he heard a small clearing of the throat and he turned to see the object of his affection motioning him back to her with a delicate white hand.

"Beast, please come back," Belle whispered in a little more than a croak, and in a flash the enchanted prince was back at her side. The brunette young woman smiled and squeezed Beast's paw. "I have a gift for you as well, Beast. I've had Michel and two others carry it to your chambers. You were meant to find it on the morning of Noël." She explained, before pulling back and coughing into her handkerchief.

Beast felt his heart flutter a little. "A gift? For me?" As a child he had grown so used to being gifted presents, some of them quite extravagant, that the notion of gifts had never made him feel anything more than indifferent, even towards those his father gave him. But now, after so many years...a decade...the simple act of knowing that this girl, (who was all but in name his prisoner,) had been kind enough to think of him moved him very deeply.

Belle smiled softly at the bemused expression on Beast's furry features and nodded. "Yes, it's in front of the fireplace, underneath the shredded painting of the boy," she admitted slowly, carefully eying the reaction of the hulking enchanted prince. "One of the servants explained to me it might be the only cleared place to put it," Belle quickly explained.

The Beast raised his brow in consternation, but nodded with a smile, "It's all right. I'll depart now, I'm sure after three days I don't smell very pleasant," he said roughly, flushing with embarrassment under his furry cheeks at his blunt manner. Belle almost giggled and squeezed his paw again.

"I don't mind. I'd hate to lose your company, but I want you to see your gift."

His embarrassment, and secret pleasure, at the words from Belle, made the enchanted prince just that little bit bolder than he dared, and Beast lifted Belle's hand and kissed it gently. "Thank you," Beast breathed out his thanks, lifting his gaze shyly as he smiled at the woman he was coming to adore, before leaving the boudoir, glancing back at her one last time before reluctantly leaving.

-:-:-:-

Beast made his way across his messy quarters in the West Wing, stepping around the shattered furniture with a frown. He would have to see to it that the servants could clean, repair, and replace the objects in here. But Beast's thoughts on that matter quickly came to a halt when he saw the framed portrait placed just in front of the fireplace, above which his slashed childhood portrait hung.

The painting was of Belle. Dressed in that lovely emerald green gown that made her hazel eyes sparkle in real life, and the castle artists had done their best to replicate the effect in the oils they'd used on the large canvas. A harp rested on Belle's lap and she was in the position of plucking it while gazing out with a sweet expression.

Noticing the sealed envelope attached to the right corner, Beast reached over with his paw to remove it and used his claw to slice it open, there was a decorated piece of notepaper, and in beautiful calligraphy, was written: (To Beast, with love from your Lady Greensleeves.)

With a happy sigh, Beast looked back down at the portrait and clutched the note to his chest. Every day that hope Belle was starting to see the man within the beast was growing. And now with this gift I know she cares for me. It's not pity, but… Beast furrowed his brow, …it's not romantic love, is it? Lumière told me I would feel it and…but something is definitely happening. Something is changing…

Thank you for reading. The next chapter will be up soon.