Three years past in the castle as quickly as any might wish them too. Belle's father was soon forced to remain in the castle as well, given his resources to invent still and remain happy, for his cottage and workshop were burned to the ground by the powerful Gaston. The mayor of the village, the only looming darkness Belle and Beast had to fear, had given up on his attacks for now. They all could feel that he was plotting, dreaming up some nightmare to finally kill the Beast in his vulnerable state. Most of the castle, however, was distracted by the slowly progressing friendship of the master and mistress of the palace. While the Beast tried to subdue the deep, passionate feelings he had for sweet and beautiful Belle, she fought to try and understand, try and find the prince that was before the monster. They were both working so quickly towards the wonderful new heaven their love would take them. Three years had done much, but the servants were growing restless.
"I don't understand," Lumiere muttered while pacing upon the stairs to the West Wing. "We were told we would be changed by his twenty-first year!"
"We were told if he fell in love, we would change," Cogsworth matter-of-factly corrected.
"He is twenty-four," Ms. Potts sighed. "Can't you see we will remain like this forever now?"
"Do not give up hope, madame," Lumiere swiftly replied, "The rose has bloomed again, but already black and dying."
"We must plan a siege!" Cogsworth exclaimed. "The anniversary of Belle's arrival is tomorrow—if we can make a romantic, sweetly lovely night for them…"
"They might just take the final step," Ms. Potts murmured.
"A fine dinner," Lumiere gasped, "with candlelight!"
"The old orchestra in the ball room can play a waltz," Ms. Potts smiled.
"They will overlook the gardens by moonlight," Cogsworth giggled.
"The master must agree to it," Lumiere stated, hopping up the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Cogsworth demanded.
"To the back room! I'm going to tell the Master our plan!" The others shuffled behind him. "We can only pray that he'll agree to it!"
They very quietly peeked past the door into the dark room of the West Wing. The black rose had been once again placed near the balcony, the moonlight casting an eerie aura about its soft light. The Beast, however, was not there. Instead, the three servants crept across the wooden floor to find him in the corner, gazing helplessly into a portrait which had surprisingly escaped one of his many raging fits of destruction. It was one of the more recent pictures in which the prince was poised in that very room, sitting in a lush velvet chair that had long ago been ripped to shreds. He was in a bright blue suit, lined in gold, a hand curled over the arm of the chair bearing a golden ring his lupine fingers could no longer contain. One thick claw ran over the face of the prince, a smart smile gleaning back at the hopeless beast.
"Master?" Lumiere gently called. The Beast did not reply. "Master, in observing your relations with our lovely mistress Belle, we can only suggest that you might try and earn her most honest affections with—"
"It's too late." Cogsworth, Lumiere, and Ms. Potts looked to each other with failing expressions. "I can't ask for anything more than what she has given me."
"Master," Cogsworth attempted, "Have you considered perhaps…breaking…the spell?" The Beast suddenly turned, thrashing forward as if to protect the memory of the picture. "Just a suggestion," he immediately added.
"Don't you understand?" the Beast snorted. "It's over! I've decided I'm done!" He pulled the picture forward and thrust it towards them in his crazed grasp. "Look at this disgusting beast!" The servants cowered in confusion as his wide arms trembled. "I can never be him again." He hurled the entire frame over their heads, it crashing into the remains of a mirror and shattering a vase. They all winced.
"Master?" Lumiere tried.
"No," the Beast gasped. "It's over. Tonight, I want Belle to remain downstairs. In the morning, you…you can tell her the castle is hers." If any color could drain from their organic faces, it could reflect the horror in their expressions. They were too shocked to say another word. The Beast lowered to his knees, covering his face.
"No," Lumiere whispered.