She threw the door behind her closed, ripping the cloak from her shoulders and tossing it angrily onto the floor. "This is madness!" she screamed, thrashing about the foyer with fury. The servants came to her call, gathering in front of the stairs as a sort of barricade. Belle had never been so frustrated. The whispers didn't distract her from her own fit.
"Should we tell her?"
"We can't tell her."
"What if she wants to see him?"
"We must follow Master's orders!"
"The whole village is madness!" Belle shrieked, storming into the den and throwing sand into the meager fire. It roared back to life. "I can't keep creeping around there—one day, they're all going to kill us all. Gaston has gone too far for sure. The bookstore, the market…it's all gone. Where is my father, Lumiere?"
"He has retired early, Madame."
"And the Beast?" She stopped, seeing the slight confusion on their faces. Her voice calmed a bit. "Where is the Beast?"
"He's in low spirits tonight, dear," Ms. Potts softly explained. "He's…" Belle watched as her eyes began to tear up. "He's been all alone up there and told us not to let you see him."
"We only wanted to make everything right again!" Cogsworth blurted, "A little music, a little dinner!" Belle suddenly sprinted forward, nearly tripping up the stairs to break through the fence of knick-knack servants.
"Beast!" she cried, running towards the West Wing. "Beast!" The door was barred shut. She ripped at the wood, tearing it away plank by plank. The heavy handle gave through, and she fell into the darkness. There was a curved shadow near the balcony where the rose remained. She slowly stepped forward, hands trembling as she caught her own pale reflection in the glass. "Are…are you here?" No answer. She moved closer to the cape fluttering in the wind of the open terrace. "Beast?" Suddenly, she stopped. There was a pool seeping from the other side of the small table—her slipper was filling with blood. She screamed a horrific cry, sending all the servants toward the forgotten hall. She pulled an already torn drapery from the broken banister on the wall and flung it over the defeated corpse of the Beast. Her tears poured over him as she searched for his demise. A small dagger, in his side. No, she told herself, it was too small. He was too strong. She pulled it free. His body sort of heaved and turned for a small leaf of paper to be revealed. It was gripped tightly in his paw. Wiping her eyes, Belle found enough sanity to read over the running words. It was from a book—her favorite. Her expression twisted into agony as she heard the lines recited.
"He looked upon her with a light in his eyes, drawing near her with no hindrance for the first time in heart and hand."
Lumiere, Ms. Potts, Cogsworth, and the rest all gathered around with a sober respect mixed with sorrowful guilt as she cried.
"She had," Belle continued through streaming eyes and a cracking voice, "She had accepted him for who he had wanted to become while knowing what he had once been. 'You loved me before you knew I was a prince and believed me to be nothing more than a shepherd,' he told her, taking her gentle hands, 'Will you love me now that I have changed before your eyes?'
'I will love you forever, whether you are a shepherd or a king,' she promised with laughter. It was an enchanted promise. She knew fate had led her to him, and she had taught his innocent heart how to love and be loved in return when the entire world had doubted. He saw in her beauty where others found a lost dream. She saw in him a prince where others found one who belonged…with beasts."
It was silent.
Belle looked upon the fallen crown of the prince, the Beast…she recalled the time she had awoken in his care. His words were so frail. He had faced his fear to love her. Now she must to the same. She threw her shaking frame onto his shoulders, weeping deeply.
"I understand," she whispered, "I understand it all." She felt the light of the black rose cast upon her and broke her mourning only to thrash the glass to pieces, the rose crumpling onto the floor. The servants cried out, rushing forward.
"She's mad!" Lumiere exclaimed.
"The spell!" Ms. Potts answered, trying to revive the flower.
"Stay away!" Belle ordered, nearly in hysterics. They returned to the doorway. She returned to her prince.
"I loved you," they heard her mutter over his closed eyes. "I loved you and owe you everything."
"Is it over?" Ms. Potts whispered. "Is it really over?"
"Look," Cogsworth whimpered, pointing to his transparent door. They all crowded around not to block the image cast in its mirror. Belle and the beautiful prince, as shown before, and with him in her arms, not a sweeter nor sadder image was ever framed.