Cogsworth had summed it up perfectly: not since the royal wedding earlier that year had the castle seen this much reason to celebrate. The cream of the social crop gathered by the dozens to share in the joy of their prince and princess, honoring the arrival of their firstborn.
It was with this knowledge in mind that Vincent looked down at his son, amazed, in the privacy of Alexandre's nursery. So many people were here to see the child, but he needed time with him first. The tiny baby was dressed in the most splendid little clothes, gazing back with his father's blue eyes. When Vincent leaned down carefully against the side of the bassinet, offering the baby his finger to play with, Alexandre smiled with as much childlike delight that an infant his age was capable of, as if his papa had given him the world.
Only in Vincent's dreams had he ever imagined that such happiness was possible. Watching the boy examine the finger curiously, wrapping his two small hands around it, Vincent laughed softly, shaking his head in wonder.
For years growing up, he had craved everything from material possessions to each ounce of power he could get, hoping to find something that could give him relief or gladness, anything that could free him from feeling that the loss of his parents was his fault. Unfortunately in the process, his greed and selfishness had turned him into the monster that he would eventually become. During the spell, before Belle arrived, he had cursed the enchantress whenever he could for ruining his life. Now he took each moment to mentally thank her instead.
Belle was his very life's blood. He could lose all that he owned, everything that made him the prince that he was. But only without her would he consider himself nothing. She had given him the most important gifts at the darkest time of his life: understanding, compassion, and the greatest of all, true love. She had saved him from himself. As he looked down at their child, Vincent felt both humbled and elated seeing in the boy how strong and wonderful their love for each other was.
"Please tell me, sire, that the spell wasn't in vain," came her beautiful voice from behind him, pleasantly disturbing his reverie.
Vincent looked up with a smile as Belle joined him at the bassinet. "What makes you think that, my lady?" he asked, teasingly curious.
"You wouldn't be selfish again, keeping your son all to yourself when there are excited guests waiting to see him, would you?" she replied with a playful grin.
"This is his first party," Vincent explained. "I was trying to teach him how a prince greets his guests, but instead, he has me so completely mesmerized that I lost all track of the time."
Belle looked down at Alexandre. "Ah, so that's it," she cooed, gently tickling her son and earning a giggle for her effort. "You're the one making everyone wait." Gathering him in her arms, she smiled. "Well then, I think it's about time we talk to you about what happens to spoiled children who think only of themselves."
"Indeed, I can share stories from experience," Vincent laughed, delicately stroking the boy's cheek. "And they're not any of those pretty stories that your mother will read to you one day."
Alexandre merely stared at them curiously in reply, and Belle sighed, still entranced by her son as the day he was born. Looking up at Vincent, she kissed him lovingly.
"What was that for?" Vincent asked, gazing at her adoringly.
"More thanks for giving me the most wonderful child in the world."
"In that case," he said, pausing to return the kiss, "the very same to you. With all my heart."
Belle smiled warmly, but as Alexandre reached for a loose curl of her hair and the guests downstairs grew louder, she said decisively, "I think it's time to make an entrance."
"Absolutely," Vincent agreed. "We have him all to ourselves for a number of years. Sparing them a meager few moments to adore him as much as we do couldn't hurt."
When Vincent and Belle made their way to the ballroom entrance, they found Cogsworth waiting for them. The head of the household bowed respectfully – admittedly unable to suppress a grin as Alexandre babbled happily upon seeing a familiar face – before he announced the royal family.
As they entered the gigantic room, all of the guests bowed and curtsied, some even chattering about the precious little prince at first glance. Once Belle had placed the baby in another bassinet brought down for the occasion, a line formed immediately as each noble and royal followed to show their respects and give well wishes.
Everything was seemingly going smoothly, but after a while, Vincent noticed that Cogsworth was approaching him cautiously.
"Ahem…master? May I have a moment of your time, please?" he asked, his voice a little shaky.
Now thoroughly puzzled, Vincent nodded, excusing himself politely from his guests before following Cogsworth away.
"All right, Cogsworth – what's wrong?" the prince asked knowingly. Cogsworth could never hide his agitation when trouble reared its head.
"Well…it appears that we have…what one may call an unexpected guest."
This didn't help Vincent's confusion. "Cogsworth, just come out with it," he said. "Nothing good comes from avoiding the question."
Cogsworth swallowed nervously. "Y-your uncle is here, and he w-wishes to speak to you."
Vincent felt the hair on his neck stand on end at the very mention of his father's brother, Auguste.
When Vincent was born, his mother had died of complications during childbirth. His father, deeply in love with his late wife, slowly but surely began to waste away into heartbreak and depression, and as expected, he followed her to heaven soon after. Auguste was proclaimed France's ruler the very next day until Vincent became of age to ascend the throne.
The relationship between uncle and nephew was full of hatred from the start. Auguste had been very close to his brother for their entire lives, and now this small infant had taken his brother and sister-in-law away from him. Not wanting to have anything to do with the baby, Auguste insisted that it was the servants' duty to raise him. As the servants feared for their jobs and lives if they reprimanded the young prince, this only resulted in Vincent becoming a self-centered, rotten little brat with a growing mutual contempt for his uncle over the years. To this very day, Vincent blamed Auguste for all that had happened to him in the past.
For a moment, Vincent debated the best course of action. The one aspect of his personality that remained from the past was his infamous short temper, he knew that, and he did not want to take any risks tonight. Whether Alexandre would remember it or not, Vincent refused to have the only memory of this celebration be him losing his self-control in front of everyone.
"Show him to the drawing room," he ordered. "And tell him I will be there shortly."
Cogsworth nodded in acknowledgement as Vincent returned to Belle's side.
"Will you be all right on your own for a short while?"
Belle looked at him concerned. "Why, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, just a small matter that requires immediate attention," he replied, not wanting to answer questions. "Will you be all right?"
"Vincent, I would feel better if I knew what was wrong."
"I will explain later, I promise."
Belle sighed, but nodded. "Go on, but hurry back."
"Trust me, this won't take long," he promised, kissing her cheek sweetly in an attempt at reassurance before he headed to the drawing room.
When he arrived outside the door, Vincent took a deep breath to calm himself before entering the room. But upon the first sight of Auguste, he stiffened with rage, wishing that he had never met the old man before. As much as Vincent had changed over the spell years, no part of him would easily be able to forgive his uncle. Auguste was the human representation of so many childhood nightmares and frightening feelings from Vincent's past. This man's voice was the one he heard crying out "It's your fault!" in his dreams, and the prince couldn't resist a shiver of fear as cold visions of his parents momentarily haunted him still by just looking at his uncle.
Vincent slowly moved to sit across from him. "Of all people, I did not think you would show yourself around here tonight," he said.
"Call me full of surprises then," Auguste remarked curtly. "Let me make it clear that, first and foremost, that I have shown you nothing but respect this past year. I expect it in return."
Vincent folded his arms to keep from breaking this man's neck. "Respect has to be earned, and I don't recall you trying to earn it recently. Now I have no time for games; tell me what you wish to say or get out. In contrast to your attitude when I was born, I actually care about my son to be out there for him."
Auguste gritted his teeth, not speaking until he was certain that he could do so without yelling. "Contrary to what you believe, I am not here to cause you any grief. You told me once not to come back unless I wholeheartedly wanted to be here. Well here I am, if that offer still stands."
Vincent was not easily convinced. "Why should I believe you?"
"Truth be told, Vincent, I am growing older by the day," Auguste replied. "Time can not be turned back. Having quite some time to think lately, I realized that I made many wrong decisions concerning you."
"The understatement of the century, uncle."
Auguste grasped the arms of his chair to restrain his impatience. "If you can not treat me with respect, then hold your tongue. I admitted that I was wrong, but you must understand that you were not the only one hurting. I lost my closest friend, my own brother…"
"And I lost my father, as well as my mother!" Vincent shouted, jumping from his seat. "Both of whom you were fortunate enough to know! I never knew them, ever! The only way I know what they looked like is from their portraits hanging in the halls, ones that I was always ashamed to look at because I was convinced that I killed them! And what did you do? You encouraged that horrible belief, not ever giving a damn about what happened to me because of such stupidity!"
"I know that!" Auguste argued, softening his tone before he continued. "I know that. Losing a loved one brings out both the worst and best in people. I had already done the worst when your parents died, but when you disappeared, I did all I could to find you! Did you know that? I had everyone out looking for you! I refused to lose any more family, especially my brother's only son!"
Vincent stared at him for a long moment. That was the first time Auguste had ever referred to him as family.
Auguste took a deep breath. "When you returned, I came to make amends at that first celebration, but you – understandably – turned me away. Please, do not do it again. I see how happy you are now, how much you have grown into a fine young man with a beautiful wife, and now a son of your own. You're very much the man that my brother was. Whatever happened to you, I say it changed your life for the better. All I ask is that I be a part of it."
Vincent shook his head, not as a negative, but more to comprehend what he was hearing. "You…want to be?"
"Very much so. You have enough to worry about tonight, but I want to extend an invitation of my own. Two days from now, please visit with me, come to my home so we may put an end to all this disdain."
At first, Vincent didn't know what to say, or even to believe. This was so sudden. A man he had hated his entire life was now asking for forgiveness practically out of the blue?
"Why haven't you approached me sooner?"
"Because you demanded that I stay away until I was sure," Auguste responded. "And now I am. Not the best timing, I know."
Vincent smiled a little. "No, not quite." He paused thoughtfully. "Very well, I will give you this one chance. Two days from now; until then, this conversation is over. There is still a party to attend…and I hope you will stay."
Auguste smiled in return. "I will, indeed, and gladly so. Thank you."
ooo
In the ballroom, Lumière weaved his way through the crowd towards Belle.
"Dinner is ready and waiting, your highness," he said.
Belle nodded in acknowledgement, but her worried eyes never left the crowd.
Catching her contagious concern, Lumière asked, "What is it? Is something troubling you?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "Vincent had to leave for a moment, but he didn't look happy about it."
"You mean he hasn't come back yet?" Cogsworth asked, overhearing as he approached them from behind. "This can't be a good thing. Relations between the master and his uncle have been strained as it is."
"The master's uncle is here? What can he possibly want?" Lumière inquired, a hint of contempt in his words.
"Watch your tone," Cogsworth admonished. "Despite everything that he has done to the master in the past, it isn't our place to speak against him."
Belle looked between the two of them, now confused as well as apprehensive. "What happened between them? Will he be all right?"
"Well, your majesty, let's just say that the two have never seen eye-to-eye," Cogsworth replied, once again avoiding details. "One never knows what could happen when they are in the same room."
It was then that the three of them caught sight of Vincent and Auguste heading towards them, quite content and pleased with each other's company.
"Though this amiable outcome is a first," Lumière muttered, earning him a scowl from Cogsworth.
"Uncle, I trust you remember the two finest servants and friends a man could ask for, Cogsworth and Lumière," Vincent said. Auguste nodded, as the pair bowed.
Vincent then stood beside Belle next to the bassinet, gazing at his wife and son with utmost adoration. "Though you haven't yet met my lovely Belle, and our most special reason for celebrating tonight, Alexandre."
Belle curtsied politely as Auguste took her hand to offer a gentleman's kiss. "Our thanks for coming, your highness; it is an honor," she said.
"Tenfold to you both, madame, for permitting me to stay," Auguste replied kindly, before turning his attention to Alexandre. "Quite a handsome young man you have here," he complimented. "Looks just like Vincent when he was born, though he surely inherited such dark locks from his beautiful mother."
"You are too kind, monsieur," Belle said graciously. Glancing at Vincent, however, her expression silently looked for answers.
Vincent nodded to reassure her before he announced to the small group, "Uncle Auguste has asked me to visit with him; we have a lot to catch up on."
"It certainly sounds like a good idea," Belle said. But remembering Cogsworth's words, she couldn't keep the haunting worry from her tone. As Auguste leaned over the bassinet, crooning to the baby, she pulled Vincent aside gently. Cogsworth and Lumière followed.
"Do you want me to go with you to your uncle's home?" she asked.
Vincent held her hands tenderly in his. "Not to offend you, my love, but this is something that I have to do alone. I hope you understand."
"Of course," she said. "Cogsworth mentioned that things weren't well between you and your uncle; if this will help, then do it. But are you sure that you want to do it all alone? If not me, maybe you could take someone else." She looked to Lumière. "Maybe you could go with him, at least for support?"
Lumière nodded. "Without question."
Vincent thought for a moment before he agreed. "Very well then. We will leave the day after tomorrow."
Belle smiled, feeling much better knowing that Vincent would have a good friend at his side. But noticing poor Cogsworth looking the slightest picture of hurt, she quickly added with a small wink to the others, "Then it's settled. Lumière will go with you, and Cogsworth stays with me. I still have to learn how to act like a princess on my own, and only someone with his vast knowledge and experience could help me."
Cogsworth looked proud as a peacock at the praise. "Indeed correct, your majesty; you can always count on me."
ooo
Not long after the conversation, dinner had begun, been eaten and enjoyed. Once it had ended, and the guests returned to the ballroom, the staff began to clear the table as quickly as possible.
When all was done, Lumière tiredly dismissed his servers, complimenting their fine work as always, before making his way to a nearby sitting room to take a well-deserved break. Collapsing lazily on a chaise, he sighed contentedly. Finally, nothing more to worry about for at least two days before traveling with the master, and even that would be close to a holiday compared to the massive amount of work around the castle lately.
There was only one thing that could possibly make this moment even better…and when he felt two familiar hands at his shoulders, he knew she had the same idea.
"I was hoping you would be here," he said, capturing Babette's hands to kiss them affectionately.
Babette grinned, pulling away only to walk around the chaise and make herself comfortable in his lap. "When have you ever expected otherwise?"
"Never, ma poupette," Lumière replied, stroking her cheek and laughing gently as she flinched. "You will never stop doing that, will you?"
"Some habits do not die," Babette murmured with her perfected adorable pout. When he slowly pulled his hand away, she reached to stop him. "That does not mean that I do not like your touch, of course."
Lumière smirked, running his hand from her cheek to the hollow of her throat. "Oh really now?"
"Vraiment," she purred. "Those hands of yours…work wonders."
When he claimed a kiss immediately, Babette smiled as she accepted. One hint of suggestive thoughts and she had him right where wanted him; it never failed. Any answer she was looking for was easily given without second thought in times like this.
Gently prying her lips from his, she let him continue wherever he wanted as she whispered.
"Lumière?"
"Hmm?"
"Everything was so beautiful tonight…the decorations, hors d'oeuvres – you truly outdid yourself there…"
"Mmm hmm."
"Enough to…rival the royal wedding, non?"
"Very much so," Lumière replied as he trailed his lips down her arm.
Babette grinned, sure of a victory. "Do you think it possible to have…our wedding be as wonderful?" When Lumière paused at her hand, without a quick response, her smile faded. "You have not forgotten about that, have you?"
"How could I?" Lumière asked, with a slight hint of irritation. "You have not stopped asking about it even when I have given you an answer."
Babette tore her hand away, sliding off his lap and turning her gaze to the wall. "'It is not our time yet; there is too much to be done before it can happen; the master needs us now,'" she said, mechanically repeating various reasons she had heard before. "Among so many others that I can not recall easily. But they say the memory is the first to abandon you when growing old."
"Babette…"
"Perhaps by the time it does happen, it will not have to be anything spectacular because by then I will not even be able to remember it!"
Lumière reached for her shoulder, but she shrugged him away, folding her arms. Lumière only sighed in frustration, mentally scolding himself for saying anything at all. Silence was a man's best friend in times like this.
"Babette listen…will you at least look at me?" he asked being greeted by her frown when she obliged his request. "Ma plumette, you deserve the very best when we do get married…"
"Don't you mean 'if we get married'?" she interrupted harshly.
"No, I mean 'when,'" he answered, emphasizing the final word. Gently, he coaxed her into placing her hand back into his, holding it up to show her the ring she wore. "I gave you this with a promise, and I am not going to take it back, comprends?"
Babette sighed, dejected. "Lumière, all I want to know is when that will happen," she said. "I have waited long enough, and all I am asking for is a date. It is not a difficult decision."
"When I have an answer, I will give it to you."
"In other words," she began sarcastically, "I will die an old unwed maid."
"Will you stop talking like that?" Lumière asked, drawing her close to him and cuddling her in his arms. "If I recall, I am older than you are, so if you are old now, then what does that make me?"
"Ancient and decaying, which is why we have to move fast," she replied, smiling a bit by the end of her sentence.
Lumière laughed. "I will ignore such an insult simply because I am too happy to see that beautiful smile."
"Nonetheless, flattery will not work this time." Babette glanced up at him, her eyes so preciously pleading for an answer. "When will you give me a date, amour?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"As soon as you give me time to think about it."
"Tomorrow?"
Lumière shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have to pack tomorrow."
"What?" Babette cried. "Why?"
"The day after, the master is visiting his uncle for a few days, and I was asked to join him," he explained. "He is going to need some good company in case their peacemaking goes wrong."
Babette stared at him, beyond dismayed. "But that was supposed to be our day! You were going to speak with him about us having time off then since tomorrow we will be cleaning up after the party!"
Lumière winced as he turned beet red. "Oh non, with all the preparations for tonight, I – "
"Forgot, as usual, I know," Babette finished for him angrily, this time not only pulling away, but rising to head for the door as well. Lumière, of course, followed her, stopping her in her tracks as he blocked her escape route. She, in response, turned away, determined this time not to give in to him.
"Babette?" No answer. "I am sorry," he continued, with still no response. Holding her from behind, he sighed apologetically. "I truly did not mean to forget. But this trip…it is important. The master wants to finally make amends with his uncle, and we know that it will not be easy. He needs me. For his sake, please say you understand."
Babette bit her lip to keep any emotion at bay. He did have a point; this visit must mean a lot to their prince. But knowing that did not make it easier to look up at Lumière, offering a weak attempt of a smile and nodding her agreement.
Lumière embraced her tightly, knowing full well that she was not pleased. "Je t'aime, ma chérie; you know that, oui?" She nodded again. "Then give me a better smile than that," he said, drawing away only enough to see her face.
"Only if you promise to make time for us when you get back," she replied. "Give me your word."
"You have it then," he promised, kissing her forehead sweetly. "When we come home, I will see what can be arranged, I swear it as a gentleman."
"So much for that then, as monsieur is far from a gentleman," she countered with a smirk.
"Oh, how she wounds my weak heart with her insults!" Lumière cried playfully, plunging an imaginary knife into his chest, falling to his knees and taking her down with him. But gazing lovingly at her, he murmured, "But I love her all the same."
Babette sighed, allowing him to hold her. Yet another long wait, but it would be worth it in the end. Lumière truly was a man of his word, and she loved him for it. Soon, she would get her answer, all in good time.