23

THE next few weeks as Belle's injury healed were trying, to put it lightly. The Prince had personally seen to Belle's every single need since she had woken and his curse had been broken. During meals, he'd spooned warm soup to her lips despite her quiet protests that she could feed herself. He fetched as many blankets as he could find when she grew chilled in the night. He saw to it she drank the steaming mugs of tea Mrs. Potts would brew for her every every hour. And in the evenings, before sleep would come to her, he would read to Belle, whatever fantastical book from his library had captivated her attention the most, until she would fall asleep and he would hold her in his arms.

Her favorites were stories that held happy endings, of love, of redemption, of overcoming hardships and strife. Much like her, he thought affectionately, as he realized Belle's favorite books were that which mirrored her own life.

The Prince was eager to see Belle returned to full health. He wanted Belle's happiness, to see her smiling at him, because of him. But what the Prince wanted the most, was for the hunter chained in his castle's dungeons to leave.

He was the last person he wanted Belle anywhere near. The day when he left the castle for good could not come soon enough, the Prince thought bitterly, as the long days passed while Belle healed and the Prince was left with his own thoughts. It seemed an interminable wait when the day did come after he had sent a messenger to the courts.

The morning of Gaston's departure was dull and grey, though the event was one that the Prince had roused himself from sleep early for, far too eager to have Gaston removed from their lives.

He watched as a black carriage, an official escort accompanied with a throng of armored guards, king's men from the looks of their white cloaks, came to collect him and was permitted to enter through the gates by his guards.

The Prince felt a figure nudge beside him as they stood in front of the iron-wrought castle gates. Belle.

His lips twitched as he felt his hand jut out of its own accord and snake its way around Belle's small waist and helped her to take a step forward, careful to move slowly and at her pace as her injuries continued to heal up.

He glanced at Belle out of the corner of his eye and felt his throat tighten to see just how truly enchanting his new love looked. The lovely silken pale gold gown of a rich buttercream color that someone, probably Mrs. Potts and Laure, had dressed her in, suited her figure. The dress was long and yellow and pretty. It suited her. Of the many gowns that Belle now owned in her personal wardrobe in the West Wing, this was his favorite. One of the maids had curled Belle's hair and woven little white and yellow flowers into her hair, and from her earlobes dangled a pair of delicate gold earrings that complemented her yellow gown perfectly. She was a ray of sunshine among the gray.

The Prince reached for her hand and noticed with pride how she had developed an adorable habit of toying with the thin and dainty silver wedding band she now wore proudly on her left ring finger, a symbolism of their union, and he hoped that Belle would in time come to see their marriage as a new chapter in her life, a new, better beginning.

The two of them had not wanted to wait to become lawfully wedded under the eyes of their Lord God and had married quietly with only his servants and Belle's short little friend Monsieur LeFou and his wife in attendance.

Once Belle was well enough to stand and walk on her own without fear of her injuries acting up, they were wedded near the outskirts of the woods in an intimate outdoor ceremony. The Enchantress Lenore herself had happily agreed to preside over the marriage ceremony. The witch had blessed the newly married couple with many years of happily wedded bliss as Prince Adam and Belle exchanged words of love, promises, rings, and sealed their union with a kiss.

The Prince could not recall a time in their life when he had been happier. He was a married man, Father was no longer a threat to his life or his ambitions, and the servants too were much more relaxed and at ease, now that their master of the castle had found his peace and happiness in the love of such a good and kind soul as the lady Belle.

Belle's placid expression looked troubled this morning, something the Prince loathed to see as she watched as Gaston, who had haunted her shadow for too long, was escorted out of the castle and down the Courtyard's walkway by Brutus. Brutus was being none too gentle with Gaston either, yanking him forward roughly by the length of the chain he held in his hands and muttering under his breath. The guard was eyeing Gaston with a look of pure disgust.

Trailing behind Gaston and looking utterly miserable about it, was Monsieur LeFou, who was looking more than conflicted about his former best friend being sent away in chains to the Bastille, a prison located within Paris.

Belle began to step forward just as Brutus came to a stop in front of the carriage's driver and barked an order at one of the shorter guards in rapid-fire French to open the door. But just as she stepped forward towards Gaston, Prince Adam caught his new wife's arm and tried once more to talk her out of this, to stop her. Belle gave him a stern look.

"Belle, darling, please don't," the Prince, a man who was unused to begging anything from anyone, save for Father, now begged his wife. "You do not need to do this, you do not need to torture yourself by confronting him like this."

Belle stared at her new husband for a moment as a deep sigh escaped her pretty pink lips as she finally found her gaze on the noble man facing her.

"I…I don't know what to think, Adam. I…I'm not mad at Gaston, my love. Just hurt, I...I guess." A cynical chuckle escaped her lips as she brushed back a dark curl of her hair as the breeze gently tousled her curls off her shoulders. "I was such a fool to imagine…to believe Gaston could change. I think that...he might be beyond even my help."

A shudder of angst ripped through her as she returned her gaze to Gaston in front of them.

She had attempted to visit Gaston several times in his cell, only for him to turn her away every single time. She knew that the man's pride was wounded, but now that she was looking at him, Belle found that she pitied the man.

The longer she looked upon Gaston and how haunted the man looked, the more she felt for the man, never to know what it was to love or to be truly loved back in return.

Perhaps his own past was darker than the small tidbits he had told her of back home in the village though Belle had never previously cared to listen, and that was why he could never fully embrace it as Adam had.

Gaston simply did not know how how to love and would never know the joy of being loved by a woman. She found herself wondering if Gaston could merely be yet another victim in the search for true love and sense of purpose.

Suddenly, Belle felt compelled to try to do something for Gaston, whether or not he accepted her help remained to be seen. The man might be beyond all help, but she knew hate had to stop with someone, or else it ran the risk of consuming all who were touched by it until they were lost to the darkness in their own hearts.

Not giving Prince Adam the chance to stop her again, Belle gingerly shrugged out of his grasp and had to lift the skirts of her yellow dress a bit to avoid tripping over the dress's train.

The Prince was immediately by her side in an instant and holding onto her shoulders as he moved to stand beside her once Belle halted in her tracks and came to stand until she was a few feet from Gaston and the carriage that would escort the man to the Bastille. The prison in Paris was where Gaston would likely spend the rest of his life.

The Prince watched, shocked and guarded, as for the longest of moments, Belle and Gaston simply stared down one another, neither one of them making a move towards the other, yet neither of them backed away. Gaston's expression was blank and impassive as he lowered his head slightly as if he did not wish to publicly showcase what it was that he was feeling as he was about to be carted off to prison if he felt anything at all. Belle's expression too was neutral, though Adam liked to think he knew his new wife well enough by this point to know that her expression was more of trying to keep her conflicting emotions about Gaston from bubbling over and breaching the surface.

"Who are you, Gaston?" Belle finally asked, her voice barely soft and audible. "Is the man I see in front of me the man that God and your family intended you to be?" she asked, her voice trembling a bit.

Whatever Gaston had been expecting Belle to say, her statement just now was certainly not it.

Though his indifferent expression remained intact, the man's thick dark brows furrowed, confused.

But the Prince hardened his own expression and narrowed his eyes as Prince Adam swore a flicker of something darted through the man's colorless eyes. Whatever it was, it was fleeting and brief, for it was there one moment and gone the next as Gaston did not bother to answer, and his lack of response only incensed the Prince's anger further.

"You will answer," Prince Adam barked hoarsely to Gaston, the harshness of his voice and the reddening of his cheeks as he grew flushed in his anger caused Belle to look up at her husband in surprise.

Only Belle reaching for his hand and entwining her slender fingers with his was enough to soothe Adam's anger.

"Of course he will answer. Adam, my love, there is no need for this," Belle spoke in a soothing voice. "Gaston will be gone soon enough, but please…let me say my piece?" she asked her new husband hopefully, biting down on her bottom lip in anticipation.

Prince Adam scowled and spared an uneasy glance towards Gaston and felt his heart tighten and constrict.

His mind could not help but flit through the unlikely possibilities that could happen if he allowed her to continue this device that attempted to help him. But, he did not want to deny his new wife what was within his ability to give.

"Very well, Belle, but make it fast. We are going to be late. I don't want to give Cogsworth a fit to the point where he suffers a complaint of the heart at his age and keels over before you're able to be crowned, love," he sighed begrudgingly, reluctance thick in his voice, which was so quiet that no one else but Belle beside him could hear it.

The sigh the Prince heard his wife let out was enough for him to know that Belle was grateful for his toleration for her wanting a last word with Gaston before he was whisked away to Paris and permanently out of their lives, forever.

Belle offered Prince Adam the tiniest of nods and only when the Prince pressed his lips to her temple in a chaste kiss did she turn back around to face Gaston and stepped forward towards him in a twist of her lovely yellow skirts.

"I don't think this was the path that God intended for you, or your parents, Gaston," Belle continued, her voice still and soft and quiet. "I had been hoping for another time to say this to you, but you always turned me away, but I am grateful that you are letting me speak now if nothing else." Her dark chocolate eyes reflected a sadness within as she looked upon the man she no longer held any hope in her heart for that he could change. "I don't think I can help you anymore, Gaston, though now that I see you, a part of me doesn't want to."

She emanated a tense exhale through her nose and ducked her head low to hide whatever emotion was threatening to show through at any given moment.

"There is a lot that I wanted to say to you, but I don't have a lot of time, Gaston, and I'm afraid so much more will have to go left unsaid between us," she stammered, clearing her throat as she felt the Prince come to stand behind her and he began to rub her shoulders comfortingly, trying to convey to his new wife that she was not alone in this.

Belle raised her head and found the courage within to look into Gaston's eyes, the Prince was shocked to see a new kind of determination and strength within them.

"I don't think that whatever help I could give you would ever be enough for you, Gaston, nor I think, could ever be enough." Belle paused and began her nervous habit of fidgeting with the dainty silver wedding band on her finger as she had taken to doing lately when thinking about things that bothered her.

"I…I do not forgive you, Gaston, for what you've done. Perhaps, in time, I will but now, I…" She faltered and Prince Adam could feel his wife's shoulders begin to shake.

His grip around her tightened and he felt her relax, some of the tension seeping out of her as she almost seemed to have forgotten him.

"For now, all I want is for all of this to be behind us. There is nothing that I can do for you, Gaston," Belle admitted.

Adam could hear Belle's voice beginning to shake, and he did not even need to look into her eyes to know that his wife's dark eyes were now brimming with tears, though she was refusing to let them fall. He heard her sniff.

She lowered her head once more, seeming to think over her words and she began to fiddle with something she held in her hands. The Prince furrowed his brows as he realized that it was a small white handkerchief.

Prince Adam watched curiously as he peered over Belle's shoulder and watched his wife fumble with trembling hands to unveil the carefully wrapped handkerchief and was stunned to find a lock of her lovely dark hair placed preciously on top of the cloth.

Belle held it tenderly as a child would clutch a new toy and moved to hold it out for Gaston to accept it.

"I-I never was one for pretty trinkets or baubles, Gaston, a-and I know that it's not much if anything, really, but something for you to remember me by, and I hope that you will look on it every now and again and you will change. If not for me then for yourself, monsieur, please. It is not too late for your soul to be saved."

The Prince's brows rose so high on his brow that they nearly disappeared into the man's hairline as he looked towards Belle then Gaston with questioning eyes. To his right, Monsieur LeFou blinked owlishly at Gaston, his beady black eyes wide and brimming with shock. LeFou's wife Iseult merely gaped like a fish.

Even his three Heads of House were all wearing equally stunned expressions of shocked disbelief and awe that Belle would be willing to give the hunter a piece of herself, quite literally, in hopes that he would still change his ways.

Gaston hesitated as he moved forward, the chink of the chains that bound his wrists together rattling as he moved to accept the handkerchief that bore the lock of Belle's hair and held it with painstaking tenderness that almost hurt Belle to look at.

She wished that had Gaston's life circumstances not turned out so dire that things would have been different for him. She watched as Gaston glanced down at the lock of her hair for a moment, and something akin to vulnerability, perhaps even regret flashed through the man's pale grey eyes before he abruptly turned his head sharply to the left.

When the hunter spoke, his voice was gruff and coarse. "Lead the way then, Captain," Gaston growled and allowed Brutus to shove him inside of the black carriage that would be escorting him to a cell within the prison, the Bastille.

Belle sadly watched the hunter being led away once he was fully restrained in the carriage and oddly enough, felt a sense of loss, for the man that Gaston could have become, had his life even been remotely different.

But seeing the man he had become, was too painful. Despite the wicked things that Gaston had done, Belle wished there was a way she could turn back time to when Gaston was kinder, to when Gaston was still a good man. But as she was pondering this thought, she felt a hand tugging on her arm that was not the Prince's, but that of LeFou's.

As Belle slowly lowered her gaze to the much shorter man's, she stared, her lips parted slightly in shock, to find the same pain at Gaston's fate within LeFou's eyes. She searched Monsieur LeFou's black eyes for any hint that he regretted what was to become of his former friend, but…she could find none.

Belle felt her lips tug upward into a smile that was truly breathtaking. LeFou simply found himself gaping at the young woman who, in a mere matter of moments, was about to become their realm's Princess.

LeFou finally found it within himself to clear his throat.

"I-I'm sorry, Belle. For… for all of it," he stammered as he wrung his hands together, not sure what else to say to her.

"I know, LeFou. So am I. I wish things could be different." Belle's soothing voice was barely a whisper as she smiled understandingly at Monsieur LeFou, holding no ill will or grudges in her heart towards Gaston's former best friend.

Without a word, Belle smiled sadly to herself as she felt her husband come to stand beside her and she slipped her small hand into Adam's much larger hand, entwining her fingers with his and giving his hand a small but gentle reassuring squeeze as if to silently convey without the need to speak that she would be well enough, in time.

"You're not alone, Belle," the Prince told her in a husky voice heavy with desire for her as his thumb caressed the top of the plain silver wedding band Belle wore. "Never again, my love. No matter what."

Tears sprang to Belle's eyes, and LeFou, recognizing that the Prince and about-to-be-crowned future Princess needed a moment, mumbled something under his breath about needing to take his place. Without another word, he dragged Iseult by the hand away, leaving the Prince and Belle alone in the Courtyard to head toward the busy rose gardens.

A shudder went down Belle's spine as she tried not to look. She was certain that Monsieur Cogsworth had invited nearly half the realm and half the realm had indeed showed up to the castle, wanting to pay their respects to the new Princess. She thought she should have been more nervous, but she wasn't, the longer she looked into Prince Adam's deep blue eyes. He had trained her well over the course of the last several weeks while she had healed, the two of them pouring over countless books and old archives while Belle had been confined to bed for rest.

He had coaxed her on the finer aspects of leadership and what being a Princess would entail for her, and finally, after weeks of preparation, Belle was ready. Though she did not feel ready. Far from it.

Belle was not aware her expression had grown sullen as she could not tear her gaze away from the throng of people who had come to pay their respects to her. She swallowed down hard and turned towards the only person she wanted by her side right now for comfort. Her love, her Prince. She was to appear in front of the crown and let Monsieur Cogsworth place the crown on her head, and she would officially be a Princess of the realm.

She wasn't sure she could do it, as her nerves were getting the better of her ability to think rationally right now.

Belle smiled softly at the Prince as she noticed her husband held the brass circlet crown in his hands that would soon be hers and hers alone. The Prince chuckled at the look of dismay in his wife's dark brown eyes and he couldn't help himself as he moved to gently caress her face.

"Belle, my love, even terrified as you are right now, you are such a beautiful woman. You're resilient despite everything that has been thrown at you. Surely you aren't terrified of this?" he told her, teasing as he held up the crown and dangled it on his index finger. She blanched and felt her breaths catch in her throat.

Had she really been that obvious?

Her cheeks reddened maddeningly until Belle managed to compose herself slightly, not wanting her handsome Prince to see her in a moment of weakness on a day that was cause for a hearty celebration. But she failed.

She quirked a thin dark brow at him and shot her love a sarcastic smile that she had become famous for during her time here.

"Flattery won't work on me, Your Highness," she fired back instantly.

"Somehow, Belle, sweetheart, I think it will…" The Prince chuckled.

Belle continued to pretend to scowl as she gingerly reached up a delicate hand to touch Adam's hand that now caressed her face, holding it there and not letting him move. The Prince felt his heart pound loudly against his chest as she leaned forward, and he heard a breathy little whisper escape her lips.

"You will be by my side?" Belle asked nervously, referring to her coronation. Belle was more than eager to welcome his kiss as he damped his lips against hers and for the longest time, their kiss did not end until the Prince was forced to break the kiss first upon hearing one of the servants come scampering up behind them, fret in their tone.

It was Laure, who sounded winded.

"Y-Your Highness, forgive me, b-but Cogsworth, sir, he sent me to fetch you both, he says that you've taken entirely too long…" Laure trailed off as the Prince groaned in frustration and rested his forehead against Belle's, though he turned his head slightly to look towards the auburn-haired maid, vexed.

"Yes, yes, we were just about to…please inform Monsieur Cogsworth we'll be there," the Prince grunted, annoyed.

Laure nodded and quickly scampered off, leaving Prince Adam and Belle watching her go, both of them looking on in bemusement.

Belle gulped and exhaled slowly as she stretched a trembling hand to reach for Adam's.

The Prince took his wife's hand politely and wound his arm around hers.

She barely felt her feet moving of their own accord as they walked slowly along the stone path that would take them to the rose gardens, the scent of the rose blossoms nearly making Belle feel lightheaded and slightly ill.

As the crowd rose as the Prince approached with Belle in hand, she caught sight of a few familiar faces standing alongside the aisle. Mrs. Potts, Chip, with the puppy Prince happily at his feet, though the boy had to scoop the little black dog up the moment it spotted his mistress to keep the animal from running to Belle and ruining her pretty dress. Monsieur Cogsworth, Lumiere, with whom Laure seemed to be holding hands and happy.

Belle hoped the day would come when she and Adam would be allowed to bear witness to their union in the hopefully-not-so-distant future if Lumiere was ever of a mind to think of marrying Mrs. Potts' niece.

As she looked to her left, there was LeFou and his wife, Iseult, both of whom were beaming happily, glad to see Belle so happy, that she had found her peace and happiness with a man who treated her well.

Monsieur Cogsworth stood in the center of the gardens, and the Prince moved to the old man's left and set the crown he had previously been teasing his wife within the old man's hands, and as the Prince stepped back to stand by his wife in support of Belle, he began.

Belle's breath caught in her throat and her hallowed breathing began to hurt her throat as it dried out.

"Belle." Monsieur Cogsworth spoke kindly enough as Belle looked up quietly, and Cogsworth was quick to clear his throat to distract the people from the whispers as the crowd got a good look at the fear on Belle's face.

There were no words to say, for Cogsworth knew that none were needed. He, as did everyone else who knew Belle best, knew the kind of ruler the woman would make. He rose the crown of bronze high above his head and Belle somehow found the strength to sink to her knees, forcing herself to elegantly bend her head.

Though she did not see it as her back was paraded to the audience, she could feel the burn of their gazes on her, as with every eye upon her and Prince Adam, the crowd seemed to hold its breath as Cogsworth rested the crown on Belle's brow.

She was now a Princess. The world seemed to come to a grinding halt as Belle slowly rose to her feet with the help of Adam and turned to face the crowd, a vision of loveliness in her buttercream yellow silken gown that flowed with her movements. And then, a deafening roar reached her eardrums as the people applauded their new Princess.

It was then that the sun began to poke through the clouds. Belle's attention was briefly pulled away from the crowd of well-wishers and her duty that she was to walk amongst them by the feeling of Prince Adam's hand gripping hers.

She blinked and saw that her love's smile was soft and affectionate, and when he spoke to her, his tone was barely controlled in excitement, she thought he was almost giddy.

"Come, Belle," he gave her hand a small tug and took a step forward. "The people are ready to meet their new Princess, my love."

She smiled shyly and quickly nodded her agreement. Belle allowed the Prince to lead her into the crowd of people, smiling and nodding at all of them, making small talk as the crowd of people wished their new Princess well.

As she walked, she let herself lean her head against Prince Adam's shoulder, thinking that for the first time in her life, she was truly happy. She was now married, had the love of a good man whom she was proud to call her husband, she had friends at her disposal. She was…happy. 'Happy Ever After' wasn't just a simple prediction like in the storybooks she read anymore. Belle thought she had learned that throughout her time spent here in their castle.

Happy Ever After, was really about something else entirely. Belle knew, without the slightest doubt in her heart, that if she lived each and every day with all her heart and soul, then she really would be Happily Ever After, with Adam.

She intertwined her hand with the Prince's as the celebrations commenced and the crowd moved into the castle to help themselves to the feast that the chefs had painstakingly slaved over the last several days, the Great Hall filled with more people than Belle had ever seen.

As she took her rightful place at the head of the table to the Prince's left, she turned to Prince Adam and smiled, thinking that his castle—their castle now, their home, that it was a truly magical place.

As was the man she loved with all of her heart and soul.

She just truly had not realized it until she had helped Adam to break his curse, that the Changeling Prince who lived his days as a man and his nights as a Beast would have been a man that she thought she could love. Until now.

And as she looked at him and leaned in to press her lips to his in a gentle and chaste kiss, she vowed to never stop loving this man, no matter what. That she was with him, always. The Prince's blue eyes beckoned her to him.

As their lips met in a kiss, the first kiss she shared with her Prince as his Princess, Belle hardly noticed the crowd's roar of approval as she let herself get lost in the succulent kiss she shared with her husband, and realized that today was about hope, and stability. The promise of a new beginning, not just for herself, but the people she resided over.

Never before had Belle been happier.

She felt her body flush warm as their kiss deepened, as she understood that Adam was her peace, her happiness, the former Changeling Prince was a man that Belle knew that she could love forever.

And so, she did.