Lumiere stood with Ms. Potts on his arm, smiling as Cogsworth chattered like he used to over a plate of muffins. They were surrounded by friends, dressed in gowns and coats they had not fit in years. The orchestra was holding their former selves, playing a sweet melody of pure happiness. "I will cherish every day that comes," Ms. Potts sighed as Chip ran—actually ran—past them.
"Amazing," Maurice mumbled, eyes rolling over the magnificent castle restored to every bit of its youthful hope. "Amazing that this is all so enchanted."
"Love is a magical thing," Cogsworth droned, pulling at his mustache with a newfound pride. "Well, I'm quite used to not having hands spinning about my nose," he muttered, "Yes; love is terribly and wonderfully enchanted."
Suddenly, the strings halted on a pivotal chord. The doors of the enormous ballroom opened, and the heavy fragrance of roses washed in from the back garden. Belle entered in the most fantastic golden gown, truly as a princess should be. At her arm was the prince, smiling with every nimble step he was able to take. They stopped, seeing the pure ecstasy on the staff's faces. Maurice stepped forward to form a respected bow. "All of this," the prince began, taking both her hands in his, "All of this is yours. You are the reason they are free!"
"I only loved a prince," she smiled gently.
"Loved a prince, yes," he repeated, "and taught the stars above this castle to shine once again." He drew her into a deep kiss, the first the two had shared but with all the power Love could wish.
The ballroom erupted into cheers as the music struck again, and the prince danced with his beauty.