CHAPTER 42
A crunching sound came from underfoot and soon, her foot was on the snow-blanketed cobblestone. The night of the Prince's wedding was bleak, cold dusk, and the castle was as leaden as the darkening sky, yet despite the dreariness of the weather, it was not enough to quell the festive atmosphere.
Belle repressed a shuddering breath as she looked at the woodland path in front of her, and every second left her chest heaving with anxiety, as after tonight, she would be a Princess of these lands, and the wife of a man whom she loved more than anything.
She could not ascertain which made her more nervous.
Those two things or the fact that it seemed half the kingdom had chosen to attend their ceremony in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the dark-haired beauty who had stolen the Prince's heart before the late Duke's son had even known that it was gone.
Mother should be here by my side, she thought, in utmost obscurity, recognizing that this was her woe talking that her beloved Mama was not by her daughter's side on the eve of her wedding.
Her face was starting to crumble, missing her, leaving her nose pink at the edge, and blushing with stifled sobs. Every inch of her protested, wishing that her mother had survived the plague, but there was naught but Monsieur Gold or Agathe that could twist time by means of magic and bring her mother back to life after having been dead so many years now.
Neither Belle nor Adam or any of the others had seen Gold or Agathe these last two weeks in the days that led up to tonight, her wedding night.
"Belle, my love. Here you are. Monsieurs Cogsworth and Lumiere sent me to fetch you. It is time."
She looked up, startled, at the sound of her father's voice. Maurice was waiting for her with an outstretched gloved hand, beaming at his daughter and somehow looking years younger than she had ever seen him. She reconciled she had kept her father waiting there for some time.
Belle gulped nervously and exhaled as her trembling hand reached out to Maurice's.
He took it politely and wound her arm around his.
It wasn't until her father moved forward that Belle was pulled back to her future. She wore a gown of white and light pale wintry blue, the sleeves coming into blossom at the upper arms and narrow all the way down to her wrists, ending in elongated cuffs. Side lacings gently hugged the middle.
Her wedding dress had a full floor-length sweep and the skirt flared subtly from her upper thigh with the help of two additional gores. Her long dark hair cascaded in a waterfall braid down her back, adorned with tiny white flowers woven throughout her braid, and atop her hair, a beautiful brass crown, worthy of the future princess she was about to become the moment that she was wedded to Adam.
A pair of delicate and tiny brass earrings in the shape of roses hung from Belle's earlobe, and the only other jewel that hung from her happened to be an ornate silver necklace with a pendant of a wolf's head, a nod to how Belle had seen the beauty within the beast and how the Prince had saved her life that night from the wolves in the Wolves' Woods.
The trail that led up to the castle was studded with lanterns, intended for their guests who wished to take a stroll through the grounds prior to the ceremony's commencement.
Belle had begged the need of air and had managed five minutes away from Mrs. Potts, Claire, and the rest of her handmaidens who were fussing over the last minute touches of her hair and ensuring that her neck and chest were dabbed with scented lavender and rosemary or eucalyptus, whatever any of the servant girls had on hand that Belle could use.
As the two of them walked, Belle felt her nervousness beginning to grow and leaned forward to whisper into the shell of her beloved father's ear.
"Don't let me fall, Papa." She swallowed a lump in her throat.
Her father swiveled his head slightly to meet his daughter's pleading gaze, a solemn but loving look on his lined and pinked face, which was quickly becoming red from the icy cold the longer they lingered.
"Never, my love," Maurice promised her quietly. Maurice never once let go of his hold on his daughter's arm as he escorted the future princess back up to the castle.
She looked up along the aisle where a small gathering of people had already created, the aisle marked with burning lanterns, both for light and minuscule warmth, clad in the darkness, and clouded by the beginnings of the falling snow, those weeny snowflakes.
Her eyes followed it until they reached the door that would lead out into the Great Hall, where the ceremony was to commence, the rush of blood in her ears too loud to hear anything else that came from the nameless and faceless wedding guests as they all made murmurings remarks about the Prince's bride's beauty.
He would be behind that door. Her future husband.
Prince of these lands, and she, when she was finally wed, would be his Princess. When their firstborn made its way into the world, the Prince would inherit his father's old title of Duke, and she would become a Duchess, per the regulations of his father's will and testament when it came to the wishes of his only heir.
And if things went according to how his father's letters had gone, the King has no heirs of which to speak of, and had seemingly been in talks to make Adam his successor when the time was right. Which would entail Belle becoming Queen.
At least, that's what she could recall Cogsworth telling her, though Belle did not pretend to understand the policy, though as Princess, she was confident she'd learn, though the idea of one day being queen unnerved her and terrified her, more than she cared to admit.
Belle briefly wondered if the other guests who were waiting for her to enter were assessing why she'd not moved yet, though her feet in her boots felt like stones.
She knew she could not stand out here forever, waiting for the thrumming of her heart in her chest to calm down. As much as she would have liked to, people would question her and notice why she was lingering.
The overwhelmed girl recited a quick prayer to God and her mother (may God bless her soul!) before following her father's lead and making her way up the cracked steps swiftly, having to gather the skirts of her luscious wedding dress to avoid the long hem being ruined.
As she and Maurice made it to the large entrance, Belle stopped in hesitation.
Her unblinking dark eyes gazed at the handle of the door she knew she needed to grab, and one look at Papa's smiling face out of the corner of her peripherals told her she would get no assistance from Father here.
This part, she did on her own.
A slight chilly breeze blew past her, the soft fabric of her gown and cape flowing to the side of her. Her hand seemed to move of its own volition and had a mind of its own as she rose the slender appendage to the door.
Her shaking, manicured fingers curled around the chipped handle. She murmured a hushed whisper to not make a fool of herself as with a firm twist and a push, the massive and wide double oak doors to the Great Hall pushed open. Through the cracked door, delicate brown eyes peered into the darkness.
She breathed a heavy sigh as she slipped through the door, and vanished within the room alongside her father, the door closing with a bang.
Her future was waiting for her on the other side of this door.
THE Prince was not sure how much more of the waiting he could take. He had waited all day, and the master of the castle was vastly approaching the point of restlessness, teeming with anticipation as a sheen of sweat began to glitter along his brow as his nerves mounted within. At long last, the day's soft rays of the winter sun began disappearing beyond the horizon and the temperatures grew colder.
Within the ancient walls of the Barreau's family castle, the Great Hall where he would claim his bride and become a married man within the hour had been transformed into a flourishing paradise of blossoms and candlelight.
But none of that was enough to damper the castle staff's mood. Even outside, the air itself appeared to shimmer with radiance. The Prince's Heads of Household had done their absolute best to adhere to their master and Belle's wishes and keep the guest list at a minimum (much to Lumiere's chagrin!).
However, by the time Lumiere and Cogsworth had added the numbers of important bannermen, honored friends, and close relatives from both sides of the family, the event was still quite large enough to be respectable by noble standings. Monsieur Lumiere presided over the whole affair, seeing to last-minute details, and ensuring all was perfect, while Monsieur Cogsworth managed the estate's purse and became the Prince's master of coin, and Mrs. Potts, of course, was in charge of the wedding eve feast.
Rumors swirled courtesy of the maids and kitchen wenches, that the head cook had outdone himself in preparing a variety of delicacies, from roasted duck and swan, pork, mashed potatoes swimming in gravy, vegetables and fruit platters, various loaves of bread, and chocolate delicacies and raisin pastries made with the finest ingredients imported from various parts of the country for the feast.
Between the Prince's three Heads of House, all three of them were in their glory.
Prince Adam, meanwhile, paced up and down a passageway that was just off the Great Hall, feeling itchy and as though he wanted nothing more than to crawl out of his very skin.
Adam had been outfitted in his finest crimson wine doublet and black leather breeches and overcoat, his long golden hair pulled back in a ponytail.
The deep crimson cloak of House Barreau billowed outward behind him as he covered the length of the desolate corridor, again and again, exceedingly anxious for the ceremony to commence and to receive Belle as his bride and take his former hearth keep as his wife.
His father's old sword hung at his side, and the Prince had developed a rather nervous habit of fidgeting with the ruby-encrusted hilt.
The separation from Belle for even a day had been unbearable, as Mrs. Potts, along with a handful of Belle's new chambermaids, and Claire, had whisked her away from the Prince's side to get ready for the ceremony, and that had been hours ago.
Adam was confident that if he did not see Belle soon then he would explode from the build-up of his utter frustrations or wither to dust from unfulfilled longing to take this young woman as his beloved wife. Lost in thought, Prince Adam very nearly jumped when Gaston appeared from out of nowhere behind him, looking regal in red and black leather, his family's colors.
"Are you ready, Highness?" his younger friend asked with a sly smile that was more of a smirk.
Adam shot Gaston a rueful look for startling him when his nerves were already shot, though he quickly exhaled in relief and nodded.
"Yes. I have been ready for the whole day, my friend," he grumbled, growing increasingly annoyed with his mounting nervousness.
"I know," Gaston acknowledged with a look of understanding. "And you've been more than patient, old friend. I know you've been waiting for this day."
He smiled, and the Prince calmed a bit, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders leave him at his friend's kindness.
Gaston continued, hoping to alleviate his friend's nervousness.
"I realize how difficult it was for you to wait, but I think your Heads of House will tell you it's going to be worth the wait," Gaston chuckled, looking amused, folding his arms across his chest.
The Prince stopped to catch his breath. He regarded Gaston thoughtfully for his efforts to keep him talking and allowing his nervousness to overwhelm him.
"Forgive me, my old friend," he begged. "You will have to pardon my impatience." He smiled. "You, alongside Cogsworth, Lumiere, and Mrs. Potts, and Claire too, have outdone yourselves. Everything is as perfect as a man could hope for on the night of his wedding. I don't think that I could begin to repay you and Claire for your efforts in helping us these last several days, Gaston."
He regarded the military captain solemnly.
But Gaston was already shaking his head, sending his friend's words away with a dismissive brush of his hand as he leant against a white marble pillar in a relaxed way.
His casual stance was almost enough to make the Prince jealous of how Gaston could be so relaxed and at ease, but then again, Gaston was not the one getting married.
At least not yet. He and Claire were set to marry in the spring when the weather was warmer, and Belle and Adam could not be more delighted for them.
"There is nothing to repay and you need not apologize for your eagerness," the man chuckled. "I'm happy for you, my friend. More than a man like me of simple words could ever describe. No one deserves this joy more than you and Belle, Adam," Gaston said quietly.
The Prince stepped forward and embraced his best friend who was as good as a brother to him, even if not related by blood, almost on the verge of ecstatic tears.
Gaston returned his affection with a tight embrace, fighting against the hard lump forming in his throat.
After a moment, the dark-haired soldier jovially shoved the Prince away and took a few steps away from Adam.
"Stop your blubbering, Your Highness," he teased, a slit lilt to his jovial tone. "Your bride awaits you, Highness," Gaston told Adam, motioning the Prince into the Great Hall, silently announcing that the Prince's wedding was about to begin.
The Prince could only eagerly comply, anxious to be reunited with his Belle.
Seeing the groom enter, the wedding guests hurried to take their respective places, standing along either side of a long and wide carpet that had been unrolled down the length of the Great Hall.
The long red runner was a Barreau family heirloom that had long ago been woven of the finest imported fibers. Embroidered lions made from golden threads framed the edges, standing guard at every few paces.
The Prince strode regally, proudly through the gathered crowd as they parted like the Red Sea did for Moses, as Gaston led him towards the grand hearth, in front of which, stood a priest brought in all the way from Paris, from Notre Dame herself, Paris's own Lady of Peace, to officiate and preside over the ceremony.
The only falter in Gaston's steps as he led the way was seeing a welcome face smiling at him from the side of the aisle as they had almost reached their intended destination.
LeFou's father, Aiken, stood in his finest leather garb, holding a place of honor among the guests.
His son, LeFou, and even his secret lover Stanley stood right beside him. The breath caught in Gaston's throat as he recalled how sick and close to the brink Belle had been when he had taken her to LeFou's parents' cottage on the outskirts of the Wolves' Woods, and how Claire had saved Belle's life.
He was grateful at least, that within the last week alone, Claire had managed to find it in her heart to forgive LeFou for what had happened, though the two would never really be bosom friends, her forgiveness of LeFou was all that Gaston could ask for.
LeFou's elderly parents had been instrumental in saving Belle's life and with Claire's help, nursing her back to health. Gaston was somewhat taken aback when he noted the absence of LeFou's mother, Mary, by the old man's side. He prayed that did not mean anything was amiss with his friend's mother and hoped that LeFou's father's beaming grin meant that all was well.
Gaston could only nod happily as he passed them by while escorting the Prince to the edge of the aisle and hope that they would have a chance to speak later, at the Prince's wedding feast and talk over a goblet of wine.
Up ahead, Lumiere stood at the side of the priest, ready and willing to stand guard over the proceedings. He attended to the Prince for most of the afternoon, ensuring that the nervous and flustered bridegroom wanted for nothing at all.
Lumiere had felt it was his personal duty alongside old Cogsworth and sweet matronly Mrs. Potts to ensure that every detail of their master's wedding was perfect.
Now, Lumiere and the rest would be sworn their fealty and loyalty to the future Princess Belle of House Barreau, if she would have him, though she had already insisted she would.
The Prince felt his chest swell with pride as he reached the priest. He lowered his head in reverence to the holy man and nodded a knowing little smile towards Lumiere.
Adam turned then slightly, steeling himself for the moment that his eyes would finally behold Belle, his princess, his wife to be once the ring was on her finger and they had sealed their union with their first kiss as man and wife.
Gaston took his position dutifully at the Prince's side, content with the satisfaction of not only the lavish festivities, but for the happiness that his friend had found, and that he too, had managed to find his own happiness, as he nodded an affectionate smile towards lovely Claire.
His affianced was bashfully eyeing Gaston out of the corner of her lowered gaze as she shot him an affectionate smile, decked out in that same beautiful red and gold embroidered velvet gown with the dragon stitched into the dress's bodice, her long dark chocolate hair loose and flowing to just past her shoulders in waves.
He could not wait for the day would come when he would take Claire as his wife, but for now, he was fixated on the Prince's eve. It was good to see Adam at long last at peace and so fulfilled, and in love with a good woman, with Belle as his soulmate.
Time seemed to come to a complete stop as the Prince shifted his weight from one foot to the other and anxiously awaited the first sight of his bride, his princess, the future mother to their heirs.
The guests shuffled, watching him teeming with anticipation, with slight smiles on their faces.
For a moment, nothing happened. Although Adam liked to think that he certainly knew better, the Prince began to fear that perhaps there was a part of Belle that could have changed her mind.
Adam was unaware whether or not he even drew in a good breath of oxygen as he strained his eyesight trying to make out any movement beyond the doors.
Adam was beginning to feel like he was the only person standing in the Great Hall, his focus so intense and transfixed upon the set of double doors. His heart pounded in his chest, as did his pulse which pounded in his ears. Heat crept to his cheeks as he anxiously waited for Belle to appear.
At last, dark shadows painted the carved and gilded Great Hall. The crowd collectively turned, anticipating the bride's entrance. The Prince's breath caught in his throat as he held it. It felt to Adam like he was in another world as Maurice's slender and average frame came into his line of sight.
Maurice was looking as put together as he could in a doublet of dark navy and dark pants and black boots that had been shined earlier, his grey hair having been trimmed by Mrs. Potts earlier, thank the heavens, though was still rather wild-looking, no matter how many times his Head of House grumbled under her breath and had claimed she had run a comb through it many times over.
Belle's father stopped for a moment before entering the Great Hall and glanced to his right.
The Prince squinted, able to tell the old man was smiling as he bent slightly and was appearing to kiss the person who stood hidden from view on his far side.
Then Maurice turned and escorted his daughter, the Prince's bride, and future princess, to her entrance before the crowd.
Adam's heart leaped up into his throat at the beauty that his bride was.
Belle stood, proudly holding her father's arm, a vision of loveliness in her white and blue wedding gown. It seemed as though the light from every candelabra that Lumiere had lit in the hall had found its way to Belle and illuminated the bride, and she positively glowed with radiance and anticipation. Belle's cheeks were flushed pink due to the unaccustomed attention of all eyes fixed upon her.
Her gaze nervously traveled over the massive crowd of wedding guests gathered in the Great Hall until she locked eyes with the Prince's own azure orbs. They greeted one another over the distance.
It felt as though the two of them had been separated for years rather than just mere hours.
Belle wanted nothing more than to run to her Prince, while Adam wished only to gather his love in his arms and keep her here forever, in his shining castle that would be like a beacon now that Belle was marrying him and building a life with him here. She was easily the most exquisite thing he had ever seen.
Maurice took Belle's arm and guided his daughter slowly through the crowd of spectators, along the ceremonial red carpet laid out in front.
The way she walked, Prince Adam thought his bride was an angel, gliding towards him while she walked on air. His glistening blue eyes never left hers, his love and admiration shimmering brightly in his transfixed stare.
This time, it was Belle who was the enchantress, his bride having bewitched him.
He wore the astonished and awe-filled smile of a young man who was so desperately in love. From even this distance, his future princess was a vision of loveliness and would make a fine Queen one day.
By the time Belle and her father had reached the front of the Great Hall and stood but a few mere paces away from Prince Adam, the Prince was tongue-tied, his throat having hollowed, and his tongue had gone thick in his mouth. He was sure she was an angel sent from Heaven itself to wed a man who wholly and unequivocally did not deserve such a beautiful and kind-hearted woman as his wife.
Belle seemed equally breathless as she drew even closer to her Prince. As the soon-to-be princess stood face-to-face with the Prince of these lands, her dark eyes were brimming with happy, relieved tears.
Belle smiled at him bashfully, and his heart threatened to melt in his chest and sink to the pit of his stomach. The priest that hailed from Notre Dame from Paris announced something to the guests that neither the Prince nor Belle caught.
So engrossed in one another, the couple was, that their sense of awareness had dulled to anything but one another, and scarcely anything else entered their thoughts.
Maurice turned and gently took hold of Belle's hand. He clenched her fingers in his fist a moment, his eyes loving and wistful as he regarded her. Then, he leant forward and kissed both her cheeks.
Belle returned her father's public display of affection and adoration with a loving embrace.
After keeping Belle in his fatherly gaze for a moment longer, Maurice turned towards Prince Adam du Barreau of House Barreau, the young nobleman who in mere moments would be Belle's husband, and shook the flustered Prince's hand with a firm grip.
Finally, giving his only daughter to the young man who loved her, Maurice rested Belle's trembling hand in Adam's and moved to stand beside the couple and to take his rightful place.
The Prince clung tight to Belle as if afraid his bride would sprout wings and fly away as they turned to face the holy man brought in from Paris.
The aged white-haired old priest looked at them compassionately and then addressed Adam.
"You may now cloak your bride and bring the young lady under your protection," he said formally.
Belle and Prince Adam eyed one another and smiled, as the placing of the Prince's House family colors around Belle's shoulders signaled their union and the joining of their lives together, and their families as they were wed in the eyes of the Lord.
Although the Prince had spent hours with Cogsworth practicing unfastening the closures of his father's ceremonial cape, his fingers continued to shake so violently that he began to fear he may not be able to loosen the golden cord at all right now.
Belle, the godsend that she was, merely smiled at her groom patiently and proudly as she waited and gave him the time her Prince needed. She thought she could have been content to stand here forever if that's what it took for Adam to unfasten his family's cloak.
Finally, the fabric managed to give way and loosened from around the Prince's shoulders. He caught it and swung it upward, cascading his cloak around Belle, shrouding her shoulders in the utmost symbol of his love and devotion for his future queen, the very embodiment of his vow to protect his wife.
Belle's dark brown eyes never left his, as Belle stared so deeply into Prince Adam's soul with so much love and affection that he almost forgot to secure the fastenings at Belle's collar. Her beaming white smile was everything that the Prince could ever hope for and wanted out of this life.
The priest from Notre Dame then looked up from the happy couple and peered out over the eyes with narrowed, beady eyes.
"We stand here in the presence of Our Lord our God and men and women alike, to witness the union of man and wife," he began in an ancient, warbling voice.
Man and wife. Just hearing the words caused the Prince's heart in his chest to start soaring.
He felt as though he could fly. If it were possible, he would have risen into the sky and proclaimed his vow of love and his promise to Bell to the whole of France, nay, scratch that, the whole world.
With a knowing nod, the priest watched cautiously as Belle and Adam joined his upon his.
The elder holy man brought out a pure white sash that he had carefully lain across the ledger book from which he read, and delicately draped it over the young lovers' hands. The old Frenchman regarded the royal groom and his bride with the utmost reverence and wrapped their hands together loosely. Turning his stare back towards the large crowd of well-wishers, the clergyman spoke again, a little bit louder this time.
"To those of you gathered here, let be known that Belle Piaget and Prince Adam of House Barreau are of one heart, one body, and one soul, and cursed to the seven hells below be the man or woman who would ever seek to tear this couple asunder," the priest declared, a look of solemnity on his lined and weathered face, his expression as grim as the grave.
Prince Adam and Belle studied one another with looks of knowing plastered upon their faces, memories of all that they had shared flitting through their minds at the same time, judging by the looks they shot one another, as it was in both their eyes.
"In God's Light and by His Grace," the old man continued. "I hereby seal these two souls and bind them together as one for all eternity. The two of you may now look upon one another and say your vows."
Holding one another in an adoring gaze, everyone else in the Great Hall melted away as the couple swore their vows together. "I am hers and she is mine. From this day forth, until the end of my days," the Prince proclaimed passionately as Belle echoed her Prince's promise in a shy, warbling voice.
At last, having promised themselves to one another for the rest of their God-given days on this green earth, the Prince stepped closer to his love and presented her with the token of his oath and love.
"With this kiss, I thee wed and pledge my love, and take you as my princess and my wife," he smiled.
Belle graced his words with a shy smile and flushed cheeks as she answered her Prince, sounding breathless and equally just as elated.
"With this kiss, I thee wed and pledge my love, and take you for my prince and my husband."
Her face shone with radiance and happiness as the Prince and Belle reached for one another, their fingers still entwined by the priest's marriage ribbon. Adam wound his free arm around Belle's small waist and drew her closer to him. She could no longer prevent her happy tears from escaping her lids, and neither could the Prince, and Adam did not bother to try to quell them back, letting them fall.
She practically melted into the Prince's embrace as his laps damped against hers. It was not their first kiss, no, but this was the most glorious, soft, and slow, and so full of promises to come yet.
Losing themselves in the moment of their first kiss as husband and wife, it seemed as though the entire world of the Great Hall had disappeared.
The mistakes that both of them had made only served as these days, minor hindrances to their enduring and lifelong happiness. At last, they could revel in one another as husband and wife, future King and Queen of these lands one day.
When finally, their private celebration of the moment was satiated, and the husband and wife broke apart for much-needed air, the priest smiled proudly over the young prince and his princess and looked up to address the crowd of well-wishers gathered.
"These two souls who were separate are now one in both flesh, heart, and soul, now and forever," he announced with no small semblance of authority as he snapped the book shut rather loudly with a practiced flip of his wrist and smiled at them.
Standing alongside the bride and groom, Gaston and Maurice smiled rather smugly with one another, content at the beautiful ceremony that both men had a hand in helping organize at the request of Mrs. Potts and Lumiere.
It had been Gaston who had ventured into Paris to collect the priest from Paris, while Claire had assumed the role of Belle's handmaiden and had seen to her friend's every need and whim when the moment would strike Belle.
As the prince and princess turned to greet their guests, the entirety of the Great Hall greeted the newly wedded royal couple with a loud and boisterous cheer.
The celebration of Prince Adam and Belle's marriage lasted long into the night.
There were minstrels, dancing, plenty of dancing, speeches, oaths of fealty, and words of well-wishes toasted to the bride and groom. Mrs. Potts and the Head Cook had outdone themselves, as well as the entirety of the kitchen staff in serving a truly lavish feast for the wedding guests, that including the flowing of many barrels of vintage wine. Extravagant gifts were presented to the newlyweds.
Agathe popped by briefly for a spell to present two long beautiful daggers from Gold himself, depicting out of what she claimed was dragon glass, much to the Prince and Belle's astonishment, from his homeland in order to commemorate all that Belle and the Prince and Gaston had done for him in helping to get his wife and son back from Monsieur D'Arque's clutches.
The blades were truly exquisite and set in hilts of polished steel that were adorned in rubies and sapphires, representing the union of Adam and Belle.
During the feast, Gaston, Claire, and Belle happily embraced LeFou's parents, who were only too eager how the Prince had privately sent Gaston to their small cottage with a beautifully adorned black carriage to collect them, demanding their presence at the wedding.
Belle had, earlier that day, been told of their arrival by Claire when Gaston had returned with them and has insisted that Mary be shown to her chambers.
The elderly couple who had aided in bringing Belle back to health when Ser Laurent had wounded her, was presented with the finest chambers in the castle and would remain honored guests for the duration of their visit, all the while Gaston and Claire spent the majority of the feast off to the side, enjoying the nearness of one another, and making amends with LeFou.
Maurice beamed with pride, looking years younger as he moved throughout the wedding feasts, happily engaging in conversation with guests and enjoying himself thoroughly, having thought he would not have lived to see the day his little girl would marry.
His heart was so filled with joy for his beloved daughter that he feared his own heart might just burst.
At last, as the man made his way back around to the happy couple, Maurice opened his arms wide and enveloped his daughter into a loving embrace. He kissed her temple and held Belle close like she was a lifeline.
"Don't think just because you're a princess now does not mean I'm going to treat you any differently. You'll always be my girl and I'm treating you as such," he warned her, only half-joking. "I have never seen a more beautiful bride in all my life, Belle," he boasted proudly. "Or a happier one." He pulled back and held Belle at arm's length to study his daughter's elated expression.
He smiled at both the new princess and prince as he turned towards the Prince and regarded the Prince.
"Your Highness," Maurice continued, reaching out to clasp the Prince on the shoulder and give his new son-in-law a firm squeeze. "You've been gifted a very important responsibility, my boy. Take care of my girl."
He looked towards Belle as he spoke, with the utmost love and care and affection glistening in his eyes.
"That I most certainly have, monsieur," the Prince wholeheartedly agreed, his arm snaking around Belle's waist. "I assure you, sir, it is an honor that I cherish with all my heart, one I won't take for granted."
Maurice regarded his daughter and her new husband with a lopsided little grin as he made to turn away, as Agathe was calling his name, needing him.
"I know you will not, Your Highness. Adam," he quickly corrected himself upon the Prince shooting him a somewhat reproachful look, wanting his father-in-law to address him by his first name, now they were family.
He took the Prince's outstretched hand and shook it vigorously before relinquishing his grip and walked off, to where Agathe was waiting for Maurice with an enigmatic smile etched on her face.
The couple lingered off to the side near a pillar, using the stone column as support for their backs, content to watch the crowd of wedding guests mingle as they kept their hands joined. The Prince's strong arms wound tightly around Belle in a protective circle, not willing to let her go.
He was reminded of the words Mrs. Potts had spoken to him earlier, how when he would take Belle as his wife, that he would make a commitment, a promise to Belle to always stand by her as her husband, no matter what would come their way.
It reminded Prince Adam of what was important.
"I'll always be here for you, Belle, my love," he promised lovingly, so softly and gently that he wasn't even sure that Belle had heard him as he led her out towards the open balcony terrace, for much-needed air and space away from the smothering atmosphere of the crowd.
Only Gaston and Claire noticed the two of them seeming and wanting to be alone, to which the Prince and his new wife were met with resounding smirks, though it wasn't long after that, that Gaston took Claire's arm and led his affianced down towards the doors, seemingly to take the girl for a walk.
The Prince could not help but chuckle as he looked back towards the woman who was now his wife.
"I'll always be here for you, Belle, my love. Always," he passionately promised. Belle pulled back and smiled as she looked at the Prince with love and adoration.
"As will I," she whispered shyly, moving to rest her forehead against his, basking in the warmth he gave off. Neither one of them felt the cold sting of the air.
Neither the prince nor his new princess uttered a single word.
They did not need to, for their blue eyes were already communicating an entire story in just a look. Neither Prince Adam nor Belle broke the silence, content to just bask in the presence of one another as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, wishing he could bottle her warmth.
He did not say a word, for it was far too precious a moment to ruin.
And now, as he looked at Belle, he lost himself completely. All the mistakes he knew he'd ever made, of which there had been many—were gone, every impure and vile, wicked thought erased. All the negativity was cleansed from him, almost like spiritual enlightenment.
Adam knew Belle's dark eyes could see right through him, those almond-shaped dark eyes of hers that were so beautiful and unsettling to him at the same time. The windows to her very soul.
But the Prince knew they didn't dwell on the anger, the hurt, the deceit, the selfishness, and sometimes arrogant pride from the early days of their partnership when he'd behaved possessively towards her.
But it had paid off, for his hearth keep was now his wife. His princess, and one day, his queen and mother to their children. Something that he had never thought he would have.
Belle looked past every single flaw to find the man inside, the true warrior, proud husband, and future father to their children that he would be when the time came.
She had given him something worth fighting for. A new home, a family that he was fond of.
She looked past his eyes to see who he was, the real Adam, and beyond the mask of bravado that he wore for others. And at that moment, as their gazes met and their eyes locked as the husband and wife stared at one another, the Prince felt his lips curve into a soft smile as he pressed his lips to hers.
He knew. He knew that he was perfectly imperfect for her too. And that, Adam decided was more than good enough. Adam decided he wouldn't have it any other way.
The Prince's gaze was unabashed and unwavering, still looking boldly into hers. Belle savored his neat eyebrows and sharp nose, angular facial features. Her dark eyes lingered on her new husband's mouth.
His hands slowly snaked their way up her arms. Belle hadn't even realized she'd been leaning into the Prince slowly but surely, and his breath ghosted across her face, warming her lips.
"Is this," the Prince asked in a hoarse voice, though he was smiling at her, "going to be a habit of yours?"
Belle merely stared at the Prince, challenging him. "Do you not like it?" she asked boldly, hoping he did like it because Belle secretly had no intentions of stopping it.
His light blue eyes gleamed, his lips turning up at the corner, just a little bit, almost barely noticeable, but Belle noticed everything that her new husband did these days.
"No."
No sooner than the word escaped his lips did Belle find herself locked in another embrace as his lips met hers with fervor, kissing her and not pulling apart until they needed to break away for fresh oxygen. She was surprised as she looked at Prince Adam, how when Belle gazed at her new husband, it's as if she was looking into his very soul.
It felt as if her universe began and ended with the Prince. She could run forever, search forever, but in the end, every path leads right back to the man's heart and soul. She loved him. Always.
And that, Belle knew, was good enough for her.
Then in that instant of Belle watching her husband as he turned and began to drag her back inside, not wishing his bride to linger too long in the cold and catch her death, he paused when he felt her not following. He turned and caught her eye; before she could turn away with shyness a genuine grin spread across his face, turning it from handsome into divine.
At that moment she felt her body flush warm. This was a person she wanted to know more than she'd ever felt before. This was a man she knew she could love forever.
And so, she did.
Well, here we are, my lovely readers! The final chapter of this story, and the chapter that I am sure you are all waiting for, as the Prince and Belle finally tie the knot and marry in a lovely ceremony. I hope that you have enjoyed this re-write of Midnight Rose.
I do think I like this version quite a lot better than the old one I had originally posted on here some time ago.
I am in the middle of penning a Gaston/Claire sort-of-spin-off-story which I hope to post at some point over the next month or two once I have most of it pre-written and finished, as I like to have most of my stories written out before posting them, so if you are interested I hope you will check that out when the time comes.
The title for that story will be Her Handsome Hero, so keep your eyes peeled!
And a huge, huge thank you to those who have left reviews and/or favorited/followed/left kudos, your support means the world!