Cogsworth found the master with Belle in the sitting room. They were seated close to one another on a sofa, talking in low voices to each other and laughing quietly. It was impossible to approach the master these days without feeling terribly intrusive, as he was always either with Belle or lost deep in his own private thoughts. Cogsworth hesitated, then cleared his throat and said, "Master?"
Belle and the prince stopped talking and looked up at him. They had the slight expression of surprise they usually had on their faces when, for one reason or another, they realized the presence of someone besides each other.
Cogsworth paused. He couldn't help but be struck by how much they looked like a royal couple. They were indisputably both very good looking, both dressed in fine but conservative attire, and they both possessed a stately bearing. They had a quiet dignity softened by their genuine affection for one another. For a second Cogsworth felt a tug in his heart. He had known the master since he was born and here he was sitting before him, suddenly grown-up. He repressed this feeling, believing it inappropriate given his station, and redirected his thoughts to the issue he had come to present to the master.
"Well, I feel it is my duty to inform you, eh, well, erm," Cogsworth fumbled gracelessly with his words, causing both the prince and Belle to look concerned.
Truthfully, though he felt a fondness for the master, Cogsworth still felt intimidated by him. The over twenty years Cogsworth had spent trying to avoid the master's fits of temper were deeply ingrained in the way in which Cogsworth approached and interacted with him. Though the prince had been nothing but warm and kind with Cogsworth, the little he had seen him, since the spell had been broken, Cogsworth still couldn't quite shake his anxiety when addressing him.
"I'm—well I hoped I might speak to the master regarding . . .perhaps this is a bad time?" Cogsworth sputtered. The prince looked at Cogsworth quizzically.
"Not at all," the prince responded warmly, "Please sit." He gestured to a vacant arm chair near to where he sat with Belle.
"All right," Cogsworth muttered, "Thank you, your grace."
"Are you going to keep letting them call you things like 'your grace' or 'master'?" Belle asked, turning to the prince and crinkling her nose.
The prince smiled and took her by the shoulders, shaking her gently, teasing, "One change at a time mon ange."
"That was hardly your attitude when you asked me to marry you," Belle retorted, crossing her arms. The prince smiled and opened his mouth to respond when Cogsworth again cleared his throat, causing them both to turn to him.
"Please excuse us," the prince said, sitting up straighter, "I very much want to hear what you came to tell me."
Cogsworth looked from Belle to the prince and then down at the floor. He fidgeted a little in his chair. Belle tilted her head and examined Cogsworth, who lifted his head and looked back at her.
She smiled softly and said, "I haven't been paying nearly enough attention to my father lately. I think I'll go see him now."
Her skirt rustled as she stood up and leaned over to place a hand on the prince's forearm, saying, "I hope you'll both excuse me."
The prince and Cogsworth both motioned to stand, but Belle put her hand out to stop them and said, "Please, stay seated. I'll see to the door myself, I insist."
She walked gracefully to the doorway and smiled at both of them before shutting the door quietly behind her. The prince watched her go with a distinctly dreamy expression.
"I think perhaps she gets more beautiful each day," the prince commented.
"The mademoiselle is lovely master," Cogsworth agreed.
"Do you think she'll agree to marry me?" the prince asked.
"I—I think so . . master, I came here to discuss, there is a matter which—" Cogsworth stumbled over his words again, wanting both very much to snap the master out of his daze and allow him to enjoy being in love.
The prince, noticing Cogsworth fidgeting with his pocket watch, realized that Cogsworth was nervous. With some difficulty he pulled his thoughts away from Belle and rested them on the faithful servant that sat before him. He had known Cogsworth for all of his life. Truthfully, Cogsworth had been wound a little tight long before he was a clock. He was someone whose mind very much tended to worry and who had an anxious turn of temperament. He was obsessed with making a good impression, but lacked Lumiere's charm or Mrs. Potts warmth. This gave him a certain fastidiousness that made him seem a bit stuffy and aloof, but beneath that was a certain vulnerability, a genuine desire to please.
The prince felt a feeling of warm fondness towards Cogsworth, who after all had helped raised him, who had always been at his side. He felt guilty for the way he had treated him in the past and the years Cogsworth spent under the curse. It hurt him to consider how anxious Cogsworth always was, how unpleasant that must be for him and how he himself, due to his temper, had caused much of that anxiety.
"Master," Cogsworth began again, "I wanted to speak with you because there is a matter which demands your attention."
"Please know that you can come speak to me whenever you like," the prince responded genially.
"Thank you," Cogsworth said, "Your grace, I recently dispatched scouts to ascertain the current situation in the nearby villages."
The prince's brow creased, "Did I order this?" he asked.
Cogsworth felt a rush of anxiety, but pressed on, "You instructed me to do what I thought best. I thought it best."
The prince's expression softened and he sighed. He didn't remember telling Cogsworth this, but then, he had to admit to himself that he had hardly been attentive to the happenings around the castle as of late. He told Cogsworth, "Of course. A wise decision."
"Thank you," Cogsworth answered, he hesitated and then continued, "I'm afraid rumors continue to circulate about a, well, a-uh monstrous beast in an enchanted castle."
The prince shifted his weight in discomfort and replied, a little shortly, "The beast is gone."
"Yes," Cogsworth acknowledged, "But the villagers don't know that the beast is gone. What they do know is that the mademoiselle Belle, her father, and the town hero, a fellow named Gaston, are all missing. And that the men of the village were injured and defeated by an army of bewitched objects."
The prince looked down at his hands, an expression of concern darkening the lightness of his features.
"Gaston was killed," the prince muttered. Cogsworth looked at the prince with a very serious expression. The prince looked back at him and added quickly, "I didn't do it. I couldn't . . .it's complicated."
"You're certain he didn't escape into the forests, injured perhaps?" Cogsworth asked.
"I'm . . .yes, I'm fairly certain." The prince responded. Cogsworth considered attempting to press for more details, but the prince's tone dissuaded him from doing so.
"There has been talk among the villagers of leading another attack on the castle," Cogsworth stated. The prince's eyes widened in astonishment. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He only wanted to enjoy his courtship with Belle and convince her to marry him. The last thing on his mind was repelling a siege on the castle.
"We were able to turn them back before," the prince replied.
"The situation has become more complicated. I intercepted this letter," Cogsworth said, retrieving the paper he showed to Lumiere from his jacket and presenting it to the prince. The prince looked at it warily, but took it.
The prince's eyes quickly scanned back and forth over the paper.
"They are requesting able bodied men from the surrounding villages to join them in a second storming of the castle," Cogsworth explained, "If they are successful in gathering these forces our defenses will not hold against them."
"And when they see there is no beast?" the prince asked.
"It may already be too late," Cogsworth responded, "There is more. Master, the political and economic situation is becoming increasingly precarious. Public sentiment is turning against the nobility and the crown. Rumors that monsters live in the great castles of France will hardly help this situation. Sir, you must quash these rumors and reach out to the villagers. You must do anything and everything to secure your position for the safety this castle."
The prince looked down at the letter, then back up at Cogsworth. This was a man who had spent many years of his life trying to do everything for him. He felt a weight in his stomach. If he was completely honest with himself, he would have to admit that he wasn't even entirely certain how many servants lived with him in the castle. Yet he was responsible for them all, and had already failed them, had already caused them so much suffering.
"Please know that ensuring the safety of this castle and all of its inhabitants is of the utmost importance to me." the prince said.
"Then you must ride to town and tell them that the beast has been destroyed," Cogsworth told him, "You must try to convince them that you slay the beast, destroyed the enchanted objects which caused the villagers' humiliation, and commandeered this castle. Present yourself as the conquering hero, the noble prince come to offer them protection and prosperity."
"And how do I do that? I can hardly bring them the beast's head," the prince responded.
"With any luck you will so impress them your word will be enough," Cogsworth paused and added, "Of course you'll bring Belle and her father with you to prove that they are alive, well, and unharmed."
"And what do I tell them about Gaston?" the prince asked.
"Tell them he fought the beast valiantly but unfortunately was overpowered by him. Explain that you barely showed up in time to save Belle."
Prince Adam continued to consider the letter, his chin resting pensively between his thumb and his forefinger.
"I have been many unpleasant things in my life," the prince said after a few moments of silence, handing the letter back to Cogsworth and raising his eyes to look into his head of household's face, "But a liar is not one of them."
Cogsworth took the letter and tucked it away again into the inside pocket of his jacket. The sun was setting, and the room was becoming as dark as the subject matter. Cogsworth rose from his place in the armchair to light some candles. As he set down the match, he looked at the candles, completely lifeless and inanimate, filling the room with a soft orange light. He had a habit of handling all the objects in the castle with veneration as though every napkin, table, and teacup still had a soul. The prince observed Cogsworth's contemplativeness and looked down at his own hands. He felt surprised, as always, to see long hairless fingers fanning out from his palm, the candlelight flickering shadows on his skin.
"It's very strange," the prince commented softly. Cogsworth roused himself from his reverie and cleared his throat.
"Master," Cogsworth said, coming around to seat himself once more in the arm chair, "Sometimes it is necessary to lie when the truth is beyond believing."
"Can you believe it?" the prince asked. Cogsworth looked around the room, filled with tables and chairs that were simply tables and chairs, down at his feet which were not made of wood but of flesh and bone and clothed in shoes, and up at his master who was, for all appearances, a handsome prince of marriageable age. Though the spell had been lifted very recently, Cogsworth didn't let himself think very much about the curse and how much had changed. He preferred to move onward as though nothing had happened. The strange beauty of the spell being lifted was a prospect that overwhelmed him, and so he put it out of mind whenever possible.
"I often . . .cannot." Cogsworth answered. "And you, sire?"
"Barely," the prince answered. The silence and the shadows lengthened between them. It had not occurred to Adam that should the spell break his life afterward would present him with so many responsibilities. He was not yet used to being human, let alone an adult, a prince, hopefully soon a husband.
The prince frowned and closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. He muttered, "I'm a prince who has spent nearly half my life as a beast. I don't know how to do anything."
"Master, I feel I must apologize. I feel we failed you, it was our duty to prepare you—" Cogsworth began.
"No," the prince interrupted brusquely, he caught himself and added more graciously, "I am frustrated but it is only with myself. You did everything you could. It's my fault I'm ill-prepared for my duties. It's all my fault."
"We will do everything we can to advise you," Cogsworth responded, "We will support you, do whatever is necessary to ensure your success."
"Thank you," the prince said, wishing he had paid much more attention to the lessons he had as a boy.
"Master," Cogsworth began tentatively, the prince looked at him warily, and Cogsworth continued, "I feel it would also be prudent to establish contact with your father—"
"My father?" the prince interrupted angrily, "The father who sent me away to live here after my mother died?"
"The castle needs guards, sire," Cogsworth advised, "Your father has tremendous resources at his disposal and will have the means to send you some well-trained and trustworthy men who can help protect the castle. Moreover, you will need the monarch's approval to make your marriage to the mademoiselle official as she is not of noble blood—"
"I don't care about that!" the prince snapped loudly, his eyes flashing, "No one can tell me I can't marry Belle except Belle!"
"Sire, your father is brother to the king and can easily get his support. The marriage will not be recognized as official unless you secure the king's approval. Any children you would have together would be illegitimate in the eyes of the law. Master, you must begin to forge allegiances to ensure both the security of this castle and your future as a prince. Should you have children, you would want them born into a situation where they are well-received and enjoy a certain amount of social and financial security. The world around us is becoming very complex. Your father seems a logical place to look for an ally."
The prince sighed deeply and covered his face with his hand. It had been so long since he had been a part of the world, and even then he hadn't been very much part of it. When he was very small he lived with his mother and father in a beautiful palace. Shortly after his mother died, his father sent him away with a large retenue of servants to live in the castle he had built for his mother. Once he had been sent away, the prince only really interacted with his servants, who, feeling sorry for him, catered to his every whim and conceded to each demand. Then he lived as a beast, growing farther apart from humanity with each passing day. Had Belle not come along when she did, he soon would have lost himself completely, eventually running off to live in the woods.
He was tremendously sheltered, he had rarely ever been outside of a palace or castle, and he had no real knowledge or understanding of how the world around him worked. The prince was tempted to run away somewhere with Belle and leave everything behind, yet what Cogsworth had mentioned about children echoed in his mind. He wanted to build a family and a life with Belle. He wanted to be a better person to try to make up for who he had been, the kind of heartless monster that would turn an old woman out into the snow or lock a helpless old man in the tower. He wanted to be someone who deserved Belle. Adam thought about what that would mean, and supposed it would mean being a generous prince, a devoted husband, a loving father, a good man.
"I'll ride for town first thing tomorrow morning," the prince told Cogsworth, "And explain to the townspeople that the beast . . . has been destroyed. I'll speak to Belle and Maurice about coming with me. Tomorrow evening I'll write to my father and invite him here to the castle. I . . .will do my best to perform my responsibilities. It would trouble me a great deal, of course, to let anyone down."
"I'm sure you'll be splendid your grace," Cogsworth assured him, standing to leave, "I'll have the stable boys ready the horses. Is there anything else you require of me, master?"
"No," the prince answered, "Thank you."
"Of course, sire." Cogsworth answered. He bowed and left the room, his mind busy with the list of items that needed attended to before he could finally retire to bed for the night.
The prince looked into the candle flames, considering how he would explain himself to the townspeople. He thought further about what he would write to his father, a man he hadn't addressed in fifteen years. Would his father even read a letter from him? Why had his father never visited or written in the many years Adam had been at the castle? Why had he ensconced him in this faraway place with no family, no feeling of belonging, no love? He felt a familiar feeling flare in his ribcage—anger. For a moment his fury at his father flashed white-hot and he reached out quickly towards the candelabra to hurl it against the wall, but stopped himself just short of grabbing it. He took a deep breath and looked down at his hand yet again, which was shaking slightly. Remembering his resolve to be a good man, he instead gently lifted the candlelabra and held it aloft, leaving the room to find Belle so he could explain to her what Cogsworth had told him. He would not give into his temper. Against all odds the spell had been broken. He was human again and he was determined to keep it that way.