Chapter Two

Belle Dupont winced in pain as the light around the Beast pulsed brightly for a moment. It faded away just as quickly, although bright spots still danced across her vision. As her eyes readjusted, Belle saw that her Beast was, in fact, now a man - his transformation had happened during the flash of light. He landed gently on his feet, facing away from her, and Belle realised that whatever magic had saved his life had also removed all the bloodstains from his shirt. A few rose petals fell to the ground around him; she hadn't noticed the petals before, but Belle supposed that she had been slightly preoccupied.

The man lifted his hands so that they were in front of his face, giving a little start at their appearance. He turned them over, and Belle could see that he was also looking at the rest of his newly-human body. Belle shivered in the cool air - had it been this cold a moment ago, or was her adrenaline finally wearing off? - and the man turned around.

He was about a head taller than her, with dishevelled blonde hair that fell neatly to his shoulders. His shirt hung loosely on his frame, from where it had been Beast-sized until recently, and a light blonde stubble barely covered his face - as if he had shaved that morning, and it had grown back over the course of the day. But his eyes were the same bright blue they had always been, and Belle Dupont found herself edging closer to him. The man stood stock-still, as if he was afraid she would run away if he tried to move. After everything they had been through, Belle was half-surprised at his restraint; then again, it was equally understandable. As she entered his personal space, he leaned into her slightly, but made no other move to close the distance between them.

Tentatively, Belle reached for a lock of hair by his face, running her fingers through it gently. Her eyes flicked over to his, and the half-expressed fear that she wouldn't accept him was so familiar that Belle knew who he was.

"It is you," she smiled, ghosting out a laugh as she did so.

The man visibly relaxed, grinning with her. Belle allowed her hand to rest fully on his cheek, and she felt his hand settle on her shoulder like it was meant to be there. It was warm, and she could almost feel the rough callouses of his fingers against the skin on her shoulder, even through the thin blouse she had on under her dress. She stepped forwards again, and with almost as much bravery as it had taken for her to enter the castle all those months ago, she leaned forwards and kissed him.

He let out a little gasp as she buried her hands in his hair, and she could feel his other hand gently cupping the back of her head. Their lips moved together in a way that soon left Belle breathless, and she let out a little gasp of her own as his hand trailed from her shoulder to her waist. He opened his mouth to her, and Belle was surprised at how good he was at this - from what she had learned about his past, she had assumed that he had been a young child when he was cursed, and therefore as inexperienced as she was at kissing. Nevertheless, the romantic in Belle was still overjoyed that her first kiss was with the man she loved beyond anything else.

They broke apart, Belle's hands still chastely on his face, and the man grinned boyishly. He snuck in a few more pecks to her lips, her cheeks, and even her nose, which made Belle laugh again.

"You're not dead," she said eventually.

"No," he agreed, in a pleasant voice - higher than the Beast's, but lower than she was expecting. He ran his fingers through her hair again, and Belle couldn't help but remember when he had done so as he gave her the magic mirror. "I'm not going anywhere, it seems."

Belle was about to ask him how he had heard her desperate pleas for him to stay - he had been unconscious by then, by all appearances - when another shiver caused her to look at what she was wearing - really look.

"Oh!" she gasped, suddenly stepping away and covering her shoulders as best she could. "My - my clothes, I don't - something must have . . ."

To her severe embarrassment, her blue dress and blouse had vanished, and she was now in a chemise, corset, and several petticoats. If there had been a crinoline as well, Belle might have thought they were the underpinnings to the yellow dress she had worn just hours ago. She noticed as well that part of her hair had arranged itself as well, back into the style she wore during the ball; admittedly, her kiss with the prince had caused it to fall apart a fair amount. Belle had no idea why the transformation had affected her outfit, but she was glad that at least she wasn't in her own underpinnings, which would be significantly worse.

"It's alright, no need to explain," the prince said. "I rather suspect everybody downstairs will be a little dishevelled as well." He walked over to a bench on the balcony, and lifted up some kind of cloak which Belle had never seen before. "Here, put this on." He settled it around her exposed shoulders - That's why you could feel his fingers so clearly, Belle realised with a flush - and let Belle drape it around herself as she wished.

"Thank you," she said once she was satisfied. "Wait - downstairs? Then the spell -"

"Yes," he grinned again. She didn't think she'd ever seen him smile so much, not in all the time she had spent at the castle. "You broke it, Belle."

"Then . . . will you tell me your name?" It was the one question she had never received a straight answer to, since that very first night.

"Of course, Belle," he said, taking her hand loosely. "It's Vincent."

"Vincent," she said carefully. It fitted the man in front of her to a tee. "Happy to meet you, Vincent."

The man - Vincent - smiled again, and Belle squeezed his hand. They walked carefully through the West Wing, which had been completely transformed since Belle had run through it minutes before. It was so different from what it had been, now all wide open spaces and gilded arches, that she almost felt like she was in a completely different castle. Vincent, however, seemed nonplussed by the appearance of the wing, and Belle began to realise just how much the Enchantress had affected the lives of him and his servants over the last ten years.

"Everything looks so different," Belle said quietly as they walked down.

"I suppose it does, to you," Vincent agreed. "But for me, it looks exactly the same as it did that night."

Even in the midst of his happiness, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched slightly. Belle didn't have to ask what he was referring to. She pulled him back towards her; as Belle was still on the grand stairs and Vincent was on the floor, this meant she was slightly taller than him. She pulled him into another quick kiss, and when they broke apart all traces of his previous tension had vanished.

"Today should be a day for smiles and laughter," Belle said. "Everything else can come later."

"Agreed," Vincent said. Hand in hand, they walked out to the courtyard.

As the light around the Beast's body faded, Belle Beaumont rubbed at her eyes to try and get them back to normal. Although his face was out of her sight, she could tell that he had transformed back into a man during that blast of magical energy. He landed softly on the ground, as if he was a child somebody had lifted up and settled on his bed, half-lying on the cold stone. His shirt was whole again; the magic that had brought him back to life also seemed to have mended the holes Gaston's bullets had torn in his clothes, and there was no trace of blood on them. He was also half-covered in a dark red cloak - a strange thing to appear during the transformation, Belle thought - which slipped away as he slowly rose to his feet.

He lifted a hand to his head, as if he meant to rub it, only to freeze when he saw that they were as pale and hairless as any other man's. A gust of wind blew some hair into her face, and Belle impatiently tucked it behind her ear, wondering how it had escaped from the numerous pins Madame de Garderobe had imprisoned it with already. She saw the man cast a quick look over the rest of his body, and run his hands over his arms in disbelief, before turning around to face her.

He was taller than her by a good six or seven inches, with a mass of auburn hair that was almost the same length as Belle's. He seemed so much younger as a man than he had ever appeared as a Beast, with his face the very picture of earnestness and his shirt half-falling off him, it was so large. But his eyes - his eyes were the same bright blue she knew and loved, and Belle Beaumont walked forwards assured that she knew him.

"Belle," he said, running his hands over his chest - as if he could scarcely believe he was truly human - before reaching out for her hand, "it's me."

With her other hand, Belle Beaumont ran her fingers through a strand of hair by his face, tracing his jawline down as she did so. The man visibly relaxed into the caress, and Belle smiled.

"Who else would it be?" she asked. Her hand moved to the back of his neck, and she applied the slightest pressure to it as she rose up on her tiptoes. Intuiting what she wanted, the man bent his head so that he could kiss her.

The moment their lips met, a sudden gust of wind blew around them, sending Belle's skirts and cape fluttering as their hair whipped around their faces. Belle kept her hand on the man's neck, grazing her other hand up his arm to his broad shoulders. The man's arms wound around her waist, nearly enveloping her. In the back of her mind, Belle was surprised that the kiss felt so shy - from the way the Beast had spoken, she had assumed he was in his twenties like her, or possibly a few years older - old enough to have had at least a few experimental kisses. But the romantic in Belle couldn't help but feel that this kiss - her first with the man she loved - was special, no matter what she had expected.

They broke apart slowly, both savouring the moment. Belle realised quietly that the sun had come out, although it was still as cold as winter. In her peripheral vision, she could see that the castle had changed, in some way - it seemed whiter and more compact - but she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. The man leaned down again, pressing a chaste kiss against her lips, as if he couldn't quite help himself now that she was here.

"You were dead," Belle whispered, feeling a few tears leak out. "I - I saw you -"

The man pressed her close to his chest, kissing the top of her head as he did so. Belle could feel his heart beating against her ear, although she wasn't sure if that was the reason he had embraced her or not. Aside from the kiss, and the dance they had shared, it was the closest they had ever physically been to one another.

"I'm here," he murmured, and Belle could feel the rumble of his voice against her cheek. "I'm alive, and I'm here."

"What's your name?" she asked. "I know that the curse is over now, and I could probably remember it if I tried, but I want to hear it from you." She had never asked him while she stayed at the castle, and besides the afternoon Mrs. Potts had told her about his family's life, she had never brought it up with the servants either.

"Alexander," he said. "My name is Alexander."

It suited him. Belle took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Alexander," she repeated.

Just then, Lumière came hopping out the balcony doors. The instant he stepped into the sunlight, he changed from a small candelabra to a tall, skinny man - almost as tall as Alexander.

"Lumière," he breathed, pulling the man into a hug. Cogsworth followed him out, becoming a rather short and stout man - and several years younger than Belle had imagined him to be. "Cogsworth," he smiled, wrapping his other arm around him. Both men returned his embrace, clearly overjoyed to be human again. A cheerful-looking old woman came bustling out as well, and she flung her arms around the three men. "Mrs. Potts!" Alexander laughed. "Look at us!" With a feat of strength Belle hadn't expected, he managed to lift all three of them off the ground. Belle laughed while Cogsworth made a good-natured attempt at fussing over the propriety required of the situation, and Lumière gave the former clock a hug before he had fully worked up enough outrage.

"And now, mes amis, I must go and find Babette!" he laughed. "Flames and feathers no longer - not a moment to waste!" He scurried back into the castle, calling out, "Babette! Babette!" as he ran.

"Typical," Cogsworth coughed, although even he had a smile on his face. "Less than a minute of being human, and what does he do? Go after that maid - I ask you!"

Belle narrowed her eyes, slightly confused - she was sure that Lumière's lover had been called Plumette, not Babette - but Mrs. Potts quickly interrupted her thought process.

"Oh, gracious!" Mrs. Potts said. "Master - oh, Belle!" She broke away from Alexander, pulling Belle into a tight hug. "I knew you'd come back," she said, and Belle returned the embrace.

"Mama! Mama!"

Belle and Mrs. Potts both turned around at the same time, to see Chip and Frou-Frou riding into the balcony. The instant the two of them entered the natural light, they transformed into a little boy - maybe five or six years old - and a large cross-bred dog who looked about the same age.

"Chip!" Mrs. Potts cried out, lifting him up and covering his face with kisses. "Oh, and Sultan!"

Belle frowned a little, and she was about to ask Mrs. Potts what she meant when Alexander swept in and lifted her clean off her feet, swinging her around like she weighed nothing. She shrieked with surprise, playfully batting him off as soon as she was on solid ground again. By the time the little group had settled down enough to meet up with the rest of the castle servants, Belle had forgotten about the dog's name in light of the much more momentous reunions happening around her.

Belle Dupont and Vincent walked hand in hand into the courtyard, which was filled with people. Belle was slightly surprised to see that the gardens were in full bloom, as it was still January, but she reasoned that the Enchantress must have felt like revitalising the whole estate after the transformation, not just the palace itself. The people filling the courtyard were presumably all servants, although Belle hadn't expected quite so many in a castle this large.

"Master!" A man with a brown moustache and powdered white wig, dressed in a gold uniform, approached Vincent and half-bowed.

"Lumière, old friend," Vincent said, rushing forwards to hug him instead.

While the two men embraced, a woman who was standing next to him walked over to Belle. "You saved our lives, mademoiselle," she said in her distinctive accent, grinning happily.

"Babette?" she guessed.

"Belle! However did you guess that was my name?" she laughed. "It doesn't matter. But please, call me Plumette; it's what everybody here knows me as, and I've grown to like it over the years."

Belle frowned - there had been no guesswork on her part, since Babette (well, Plumette) and Lumière were infamously inseparable around the castle - but Plumette was already pulling Belle in for a quick hug. It was quickly interrupted by a tugging on Belle's borrowed cloak.

"Belle! Look! I'm a real boy!" A little boy who couldn't have been more than eight was pulling on Belle's hand, practically dancing with excitement.

"Chip!" Belle grinned, lifting him up to give him a hug, as well. "Oh, and . . . Mrs. Potts?"

"I knew you could do it, dearie," said a woman with ash-blonde hair, whose anxious hovering over Chip had given away her relationship to him at once. "Even though we couldn't tell you everything about the spell, it turned out alright in the end."

"Of course it did," Belle smiled. An older man with a red cap walked up beside Mrs. Potts, and Chip hopped down from Belle's arms to run and hug him. "And who are you, monsieur?" she asked.

"Oh, you tease me," he laughed. "But it turns out I'm not just Monsieur Jean, but Mr. Potts!"

"Oh!" Belle said, hiding her utter confusion under a smile and another hug. "But I thought that your husband had . . ."

Belle had asked Mrs. Potts about her husband not long after she came to the castle. She had been told that he, along with Chip's mother, had died in a carriage accident a few months after Chip was born. Mrs. Potts had brought Chip up as her own, as his father had never shown any interest in caring for the boy, and Chip himself did not even know that Mrs. Potts was his grandmother. The man in front of her, however, was very clearly alive and kicking.

"The spell, dearie!" Mrs. Potts said, laughing. "It caused everybody outside the castle to forget about us, and since Mr. Potts was in Villeneuve that night, he and I have been separated since the moment the curse was cast." Mr. Potts wound an arm around his wife's waist, and kissed her cheek.

"And now we can be a proper family again - you, me, and little Chip!" he said, laughing jovially. "Oh, and look - I do believe Clothilde's found her brother again."

Belle and Mrs. Potts both turned, to see a tall, skinny woman with dark hair tearfully embracing an old man in the same gold uniform as the rest of the staff. The man looked distinctly uncomfortable, patting her back as stiffly as if he was an automaton.

"Poor Cogsworth," Mrs. Potts laughed.

"Cogsworth?!" Belle exclaimed, whipping her head around to face her. "I had no idea he was that age - he always seemed so . . . vibrant."

"Well, Clothilde is enough to put a damper on anyone's spirits," Mr. Potts said. "But I don't need to tell you that, eh, Belle?"

"I'm . . . sorry?" she asked. "Should I know her?"

Mr. Potts only laughed. "Good attitude! Don't let her antics bother you! Still, I hate to think how much work was wasted when she demolished that washing contraption of yours. But I suppose bygones should be bygones - after all, now that the spell is broken I suspect a lot more villagers will have connections to you and this castle than they might otherwise like."

Belle's mouth gaped. "Excuse me," she murmured, reeling from the onslaught of information. "I must . . . go and find my father. And Vincent." She walked away from the Potts', nodding politely at Plumette as she passed. Within a matter of minutes, she had found Vincent again, and she almost shyly intertwined her hand with his. He looked down at her, and smiled bright like the sun.

Belle stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. She didn't quite understand what was happening - why people she had been told were dead were suddenly alive, or why she was expected to know and even despise a woman she'd never seen before in her life. It was a ridiculous feeling - Belle wouldn't have given it any credence if it hadn't felt awfully similar to her compulsion to enter the West Wing - but she couldn't help but wonder if there was a reason beyond a broken curse for all of these people to exist so differently to how she had imagined them.

Unnoticed in the hustle and bustle of Vincent's courtyard, Agathe cursed silently. She had hoped to switch Dupont and Beaumont around before their grip on the other's bodies was too strong. Unfortunately, now that both girls had exchanged a kiss with their princes, it would be a little more complicated to switch them back.

With a subtle shift of light, Agathe found herself back in her home in Vincent and Belle Beaumont's world. She began leafing through her books, while her owl blinked curiously at her.

"Things are bad, Nyctea," she said. "Both pairs have kissed - and even if they don't know it's not the person they loved that they kissed, it still affects what magic I can do with them."

She ran her hands through her hair, rubbing gently at her temples. Nyctea hooted in sympathy, and Agathe gently stroked her feathers.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted quietly. "All I can do, for now, is watch and wait. Hopefully things will ease off a little soon."

But even to her own ears, Agathe didn't sound convincing.

A/N: I just had to squeeze in one final update before the semester started. This will be shorter than my two retellings were, but I'm prioritising my university work more than ever this year, so don't get too anxious if updates aren't very often!

In keeping with our running tally, in 1991 we have: the prince, Alexander; the footstool dog, Sultan; and Mrs. Potts, Chip's grandmother. In 2017 we have: the prince, Vincent; Mr and Mrs. Potts, Chip's parents; and Cogsworth's sister.

A couple of notes on names: for everybody's sanity, neither prince has been named Adam. Vincent was an old-school name for the Beast, from well before I even started liking the film - it probably originated from the 80's TV series? I think? Alexander, as far as I'm aware, came from an RP on BIttersweet and Strange, 'Heroes of the Light', which is an excellent read if you're up for it - I know I enjoyed reading it. I also just really like Alexander as a name, so there's that, too.

The Babette/Plumette thing: I like to imagine that in both versions, her real name is Babette and Plumette is a nickname Lumière gave her, since it literally means 'feather'. In 2017!verse, she just let the whole castle call her that, I guess.

Nyctea is part of the Latin name for a snowy owl; I know that's not what the owl in the film is, but it's just a pretty name.

Also; I just cannot picture Cogsworth with a wife like Clothilde, so she became his sister instead - sorry if anyone was especially attached to that pairing!

I'm trying to split up time between Beaumont and Dupont equally, but Dupont just had more to experience this chapter; it'll even out soon enough. And not every chapter will end with a segment from Agathe!

Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this!

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