15
ADAM trailed closely behind the small group of guards and servants who did their best to lift Belle and take her inside to an available bedroom, hardly daring to believe his eyes. She was human again. Her curse was lifted.
It was supposed to have been a joyous occasion. Her curse lifted should have assuaged his guilt for the witch casting it upon her in the first place.
Belle was human again. He repeated it over and over like a mantra in his head as if he thought saying the words, again and again, would make his brain believe what his eyes could not.
He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around it. His declaration of love for Belle had lifted her wretched curse. However, he could not let himself celebrate the fact that Belle still lived. Nor could Adam celebrate that the man responsible for nearly killing her was now in a cell in the dungeons below his castle.
He could focus on nothing but Belle and the ordeal she was still going towards as the wound at her side had not healed, despite her reverting to being human.
Between the frustrated sighs of Mrs. Potts and his castle's physician, Adam quickly realized he was getting in the way as the group gingerly set her on the bed.
A few maids at Mrs. Potts' command began to dart out of the room on orders to fetch whatever basins of hot water and spare rags they could find.
Soon there was barely room for him to stand flush against the wall of the bedroom he had put Belle up in during the duration of her stay here, and soon he could hardly see the woman he loved over the small crowd that was gathered around her bed, fussing over her.
"Please, Your Highness," the physician called, a middle-aged doctor with a tired and red face. He did not bother to look over his shoulder at the Prince hovering in the doorway. "You will need to wait outside, I am afraid I need all available space to work on her, and your presence would only be a hindrance. You would only be getting in my way. Please, kindly remove yourself from the room. I will send for you when I have finished," the doctor requested.
Adam bristled and gnashed his teeth together and scowled a bitter warning at the physician. He could not leave Belle, not like this. What if something were to happen to her and he was not by her side to say goodbye?
What if she—if she...? He squeezed his eyes shut as his breath caught in his throat.
He couldn't even bring himself to think about it, and as such, the Prince had trouble shaking the thoughts away.
An abrupt bitterness formed in his stomach at just the horrific thought. The Prince was startled out of the dark tempest of thoughts now swirling in his mind at the feeling of Cogsworth and Lumiere both taking hold of his arms and forcefully removing him from the room. Adam fought them the whole though, though neither man backed down.
In any other circumstance, Adam thought he would have been impressed that not even Cogsworth's grip faltered as he was led out into the hall, but he was so consumed with worry for Belle to attend to much of anything else now.
"I need to stay with her, Cogsworth," Adam nearly exploded as he felt himself go red in the face as he rounded upon the old man, who shrunk away and began to blubber out an apology, but Lumiere was not so fazed by their master's savage snarling and growling and spoke up.
Lumiere could understand the Prince's hostility and did his best to calm the Prince, seeing how flustered the younger man had made Cogsworth.
He motioned for Mrs. Potts to escort him down to the kitchens with her with a curt jerk of his head to see about getting Cogsworth something for shock as well as to prepare a light dinner for Belle when she woke if she happened to have an appetite.
Mrs. Potts quietly nodded her understanding and the sigh she gave out told the Prince and Lumiere just how grateful she was for Lumiere's tolerance of Adam's temper. The old woman tottered down the hallway at a hurried pace, taking Cogsworth by the arm and not letting him go.
Only when they were out of sight and down the grand staircase did Lumiere turn back to face the Prince, noticing how Adam was looking reproachfully yet wistfully towards the closed door?
"You must let the doctor work, master. Belle could not be in more capable hands. If anything can see her through this, the doctor can, sir," Lumiere answered, doing his best to keep his voice level-headed and calm, for his sake.
"She needs to know I'm here," Adam pleaded, his face twisting and contorting as he shot a pained look in Lumiere's direction.
His blue eyes were red and wild and crazed and cracked at the edges as he looked towards the door in a panic. The poor man looked to be on the brink of hyperventilation.
Lumiere flinched at the nearly crazed look in the master's wintry blue eyes as their Prince was overcome with concern. The servant's whole demeanor changed as he nervously began to wring his hands in front of his middle.
"She knows, sir. The lady will be well, master. You must believe it." Lumiere tried to comfort him.
With no way of watching over Belle and no outlet with which to vent his frustrations and his pain, at least, no outlet readily available to him that he wanted, Adam turned away from Lumiere and let out a furious blood yell that Adam both knew would haunt their dreams for the next several nights to come. He curled his hand into a fist and slammed his knuckles over and over again against the cold rough stone wall. Blood formed on his knuckles, and he was sure they were broken, yet the pain was not nearly enough to swap with the anguish of his broken heart that the woman he now knew himself to be hopelessly in love with was fighting for her life, and it was a battle she must fight alone.
Lumiere prudently made no effort to approach the Prince until the man's fit had run its course.
He patiently stood back and let him have this release until at last, Adam had no air left in his lungs to scream, and the pain in his knuckles was far too great. He leaned back against the wall, exhausted, and terrified that Belle might not make it through the night. Lumiere moved to stand in front of Adam.
"She will pull through, master. You must believe that," he repeated calmly, and then muttered under his breath about heading to the kitchens to oversee the chefs' work in preparing dinner. Adam numbly nodded and did not even see Lumiere leave. He ran his hands through his blond hair in anguish and raised his cracked red eyes to the ceiling.
And it was then that a thought occurred to him. Something he had nearly forgotten.
"Lumiere, wait a moment, my friend, please," he called, hoping to catch his youngest Head of House before his friend disappeared down the stairs as Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth had just done. Thankfully, Lumiere had just gotten to the stairs, had a hand on the railing, and turned his head to the left to attend to his master's want. He waited as still and silent as an owl for the Prince to speak. Sensing Lumiere was waiting, the Prince continued. "Send an escort to fetch the girl's father in her village. The man's name is Maurice. Have him brought here immediately."
Lumiere looked a little shocked, perhaps thrown by the nature of the Prince's request, though he recovered quickly and promised the Prince he would see it done, already snapping his fingers at a nearby guard and barking an order at the boy in rapid-fire French to fetch the fastest horse from the stables.
The Prince shot Lumiere a grateful look, attempting to convey his thanks with just a look, though Lumiere's sympathetic nod told Adam there was no need for his thanks. Only when Lumiere had disappeared down the stairwell did Adam let his mind wander. His mind drifted back to thoughts of Belle. He very nearly smiled as visions of the life that he hoped to enjoy with her flashed through his mind at that moment, though he could not bring himself to do it as he feared for her still, and cursed the doctor for not allowing him to stay by her side.
The Prince did not know how long he sat crouched in a heap in front of the door, though the sound of footsteps barreling his way after what had to be an hour or two caused him to perk up at the noise.
With painstaking slowness, he turned to look toward the oncoming arrival, not in the mood for company right now. Adam was about to warn whoever it was that was approaching him that he was to be left alone, but stopped when he saw who it was that was coming.
He flinched and rose to his feet the moment he saw Lumiere approaching with Belle's father, a look of utter despair all over the man's tired face. Belle's father turned towards the Prince questioningly. If her father was at all aware of the events that had transpired following the guard coming to fetch him, he was good at hiding it.
"My daughter, Your Highness? H-how is she?" the old man asked in a warbling voice. The fear in his voice was unmistakable.
The Prince opened his mouth to speak, about to confess the truth, that he was not sure when the door opened from behind him and the doctor appeared in the doorway.
His face showed the exhaustion the doctor would not allow his body to feel for several hours yet.
Adam grimaced as his gaze flicked down to the doctor's hands, which bore faint traces of red on them–Belle's blood–as he was wiping his hands on a rag.
Adam was immediately struck with the revelation of what the witch's cryptic words had meant earlier.
"Love and blood," he muttered, not even realizing he had spoken the words aloud until he noticed how the doctor and Belle's father's eyebrows rose.
Adam flushed a deep cherry red and looked away for a moment to compose himself before looking back at the doctor.
He swallowed past a lump in his throat and his mouth, already dry, went dryer still, as he licked his lips to moisten them. He was almost afraid to try to read the physician's impassive look.
"Belle, monsieur, h-how is she?" he asked, fear shadowing his hope.
The castle's doctor looked at the Prince and Belle's father for a moment, his eyes heavily lidded and exhausted.
Taking a breath, he delivered his news.
"She made it through my surgery," he reported, a cautious smile flitting across his reddened face.
The Prince breathed a sigh of relief as Lumiere grabbed his shoulders and gave him a firm little shake as if to tell him that he knew she would pull through all along.
Adam, forgetting himself and overcome with happiness, bounded forward and embraced his doctor who had been with the rest of the senior staff since before he was born. He nearly lifted the older man off his feet.
The doctor smiled, happy he could bring good news, however, his smile faltered somewhat the moment the Prince set him back down and relinquished his grip on him.
He was still cautious of declaring the young lady fully healed and the road to recovery would be rough.
His expression turned as grim as a grave as he fixed the Prince and Belle's father with a pointed look that startled them both, but the doctor did not let them ponder it.
"She is awake and was asking for you, Your Highness, and I will allow both of you in the room to see her, however, I must advise that she not be allowed to delve into anxiety over the next few weeks as she recovers. Her wound was very serious and it will take time to heal, her body cannot recover adequately if she is constantly exposed to extreme stress. The best thing to do for her now is to ensure she's kept comfortable, and the bandage at her side is changed hourly. I recommend a bland diet over the next few days, soups, and a good chicken broth should go a long way in helping her recovery," the doctor advised as he opened the door to Belle's chambers.
The doctor stood back patiently and let Maurice enter first.
Adam lingered for a moment and gave the doctor his thanks and turned to Lumiere, who immediately offered to go down to the kitchens and ask the chefs to start on a broth for Belle. The Prince's attention was quickly diverted by a whimper coming from inside the room. The Prince nodded his thanks to Lumiere and turned on his heels to return to Belle's side. Barreling through the doorway, he found her father already by Belle's side holding her hand, and Belle, weak and fatigued, trying to sit up against the mountain of pillows that were piled high behind the bed's headboard.
She was not making the progress for which she had hoped and her poor father was already fussing over her. Without thinking or uncaring about how it seemed to her father, Adam rushed to her side and perched on the edge of the cot.
"What are you doing?" he admonished her, concerned. Adam did not let Belle reply, but instead, continued trying to help her and fluffing her pillows. "You are not to move a muscle, Belle. Doctor's orders," he told her. "That is what I am here for," he tried to smile and eased the shocked young woman back down onto the bed as he noticed Belle studying her trembling hands, which were now free of brown fur.
Belle stuck out her bottom lip in a slight pout and shot the Prince a reproachful look that he found adorable.
"I'm not used to just lying around, Adam, I don't need to stay in bed," she muttered, ignoring how the Prince's face flushed when to the best of his recollection, this was the first time she had called him by his name.
"Oh, yes, you do, Belle, and we are not arguing about this," the Prince rebuffed, his tone uncharacteristically firm, and hearing the rumble in his voice that he usually reserved for one of his servants caused Belle to wilt somewhat and shrink back against the pillows.
Remembering the doctor's words about not having her delve into too much anxiety while she was to rest and recover, the Prince's expression softened and he reached for her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips and placing a gentle and chaste kiss on her bruised knuckles, relishing how her cheeks speckled pink with both delight and embarrassment.
"You need to let yourself heal. It won't be but a few weeks, Belle. I promise," he told her. He stiffened and ground his teeth as he noticed her father out of the corner of his eye, watching them interested. Maurice was eyeing his daughter and the Prince, his face grim.
No doubt the man was aware that there was something between their realm's Prince and his only daughter.
When her father finally spoke, his voice trembled.
"The guards who came to fetch me told me that you were injured," Maurice spoke, tears finding his eyes as he scooted closer to his daughter on the edge of the bed and held her hand as tightly as he dared
Meanwhile, the Prince held fast to the other, unwilling to let go no matter what his father thought and how much he might disapprove of his interest in his daughter. His love for her and Belle's sacrifice and her blood had broken the witch's curse and there was no way in hell he was letting her go.
The Prince was pulled back to reality by the sound of Maurice's shaky voice as the man still spoke to his daughter.
"...I was out of my mind with worry. I-I almost lost you, Belle, a-and Gaston…LeFou has told me. I-I didn't want to believe he could do it," he lamented painfully, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to force away the horrific and surprising image.
"Oh, Papa, you'll never lose me. I had the best of care, didn't I?" Belle weakly smiled, her face drained of color as she lifted her gaze and looked over at the Prince. She quirked a thin eyebrow at the Prince and managed a tired smile. The dark bags under her eyes were quite prominent and she still appeared too pale to be considered healthy.
But Belle met his gaze and smiled shyly, though he could see the kernel of hesitation in her dark eyes as it became clear she was wondering the same thing. How much, if anything, her father knew.
She turned back towards her father and shot Maurice a quizzical look. "D-did the guards tell you anything on the way here, Papa?" she asked, recoiling and reddeningly maddingly when Maurice nodded. Both Belle and the Prince drew in a breath and held it, waiting for the inventor to reveal the truth, though what he said surprised them both.
"Just that Gaston had gone mad and that you were injured when he…when he….hurt you."
A single tear slipped from the edge of his right eye. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes, the look on his face one of utmost disgust.
"To think that I very nearly gave that—that Beast—my blessing to marry you, Belle. Please forgive me, for I do not think I can forgive myself," he muttered. The Prince inhaled sharply and shot Belle a knowing look.
This was a time that both of them had best be careful. Her father was already fretting over her as it was, he prayed Belle did not want to add to her father's anxiety by wanting to tell him the truth.
Belle nodded, a gesture that was barely noticeable and only by the Prince. Instantly, the Prince felt his shoulders relax. It became clear that she felt the same as him in this regard. It would do the old man no good to know what had become of his only daughter, such news would only further exacerbate his stress.
He stiffened at the very notion. The Prince was not about to tolerate anything that might impede her recovery.
"What about Gaston, sir? What will you do to him? Will he be sent to the camps? Killed?" Belle asked in a small voice, breaking the heavy silence that lingered between them. The sound of her shy voice reaching his ears brought the Prince back to earth as once again, his thoughts were captivated by the young woman in the bed before him.
He had been mulling over in his mind how it was a miracle his castle's physician had been able to save her, that his love and her blood had broken her curse. The Prince quietly contemplated the many consequences he could inflict upon the bastard hunter who had nearly killed Belle, twice now, as a result of his obsession with her.
But then his expression softened to see the worry sparking to life behind his love's dark eyes and he knew the authority to pass judgment upon the man who had hurt her should not come from him.
"That is not my decision to make, Belle," he told her, his voice cold. He rose his eyes to the woman he loved and spared Belle's father a glance. "I am not the one your hunter almost killed tonight," he spoke plainly. "You were hurt by him, you were the one who nearly died tonight, therefore, you should decide what becomes of him, Belle."
Belle looked shocked but less so than Adam expected her to be, which was saying something. Her expression grew sullen as she grew quiet and contemplative and stared down at her hands now resting in her lap.
Her lips parted as if she meant to speak, however, it took her a moment as she hesitantly lifted her gaze and looked not at him, but at Maurice.
"I do not care what happens to Gaston, Your Highness, as long as the man does not come near me nor my father again," she declared.
She thought there was nothing that she could order Adam to do to the man that would make up for the wrongs done to the Prince or even to herself.
The Prince quietly nodded, giving a thought to the fate of the man who had nearly killed the woman he loved.
There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than for the man to be hanged for what he had done tonight and yet, he suspected Belle would never forgive him if he did. She had a good heart, was a gentle soul, and she was quickly proving to be better than him in every conceivable way possible.
If his father were still alive, the Duke would have sentenced the hunter to death without giving it a thought at all and not lose an ounce of sleep over it, either, but he was not his father and he would not rule with fear, as Father had done. He made a silent vow going forward to be different.
He would let the hunter live but be sent away. For Belle, if it meant that showing mercy would convince her to stay.
"He will be exiled from France. He is never to set foot on these lands again. If he attempts to, he will be executed," he announced after a moment's pause. His lips twitched as he fought back a smile at seeing the tension in Belle's shoulders dissipate and she immediately reached for her father's hand and gave the man's hand a light squeeze.
The Prince felt a momentary stab of jealousy at the gesture, wishing it was his hand for which Belle reached, but quickly shook the thought away. He would give Belle and her father their time alone if that was what Belle wanted, however, before he could leave the room, he had to get the question out while he had the opportunity.
Exhaling a shaky breath, he looked towards Belle's father with pleading eyes.
"Monsieur, I-I realize that this is highly irregular, what I am about to ask of you, and how forward this must seem, but my greatest wish is something that my wealth and status cannot give me. I would like for Belle to remain in the castle, but it is not enough that she remain as my guest. Not any more, sir." Here, he looked towards Belle and fixed the woman he loved with an affectionate smile. Her eyes were huge and round and brimming with wonder. "I hoped that she would stay. As my wife. I want to marry Belle, monsieur, and I intend to make that happen soon, the moment she is recovered and well enough to walk. I do not want to be far from her," the Prince swore.
Belle sat up straighter, aided by Adam, and turned to face her father at his side.
"Please, Papa," she whispered, tears finding her eyes once more, yet this time, Adam was relieved to see they were tears of happiness, not ones of pain and sorrow.
Maurice grew quiet and contemplative as he studied how intensely the Prince of their realm behaved when around Belle. He was almost fierce in protecting her, how he hovered over her.
It was clear this Prince had fallen in love with Belle throughout the weeks that she had spent with him in the castle.
That was all he had ever wanted for his little girl. He'd wanted his daughter to find joy and happiness and be safe in the arms of a man who loved her, who could provide for her and give her what he could never.
He considered the Prince's proposal as his expression grew wistful as he looked towards Belle.
"Oh, my dear, you are not my little girl anymore," he muttered nostalgically. She shook her head and fought against the tears that rose in her throat. Her fingers trembled as she reached up and squeezed his large forearm.
"Oh, Papa, don't say that. You know it's not true. I shall always be your daughter," she promised him eagerly.
Maurice glanced down at the Prince's hand that was wound around Belle's. The man seemed to show no signs of letting go for anything. He nearly chuckled and let out a morose little smirk.
"It seems then, that your minds are made up," he said.
"They are," Belle and Adam answered, speaking in unison as though they were one person instead of two.
"Well, then, you'd best wed as soon as you're able to walk, my love. Hopefully, within a fortnight, your Prince here does not seem keen on waiting long. Of course, you may have my blessing, Your Highness. I can think of no better match for my daughter than you. I can see in your eyes how much you care for her, your hand has not left hers since you entered this room," Maurice answered, which elicited a laugh from the Prince that caused Belle to blush like mad.
The Prince nodded, beaming. "I have waited all my life to find someone who matches me, monsieur," the Prince replied calmly. "Belle's health and recovery are my priority. I will wait as long as it takes. I'd not have it any other way, sir," he boldly asserted, his gaze never leaving Belle as she smiled shyly, her cheeks turning a deep cherry red.
"Thank you, Papa," Belle softly voiced her thanks, just as the door to the chamber opened and Mrs. Potts toddled inside, accompanied by Cogsworth and Lumiere, all three of them looked utterly relieved to see her alert and awake and talking.
Mrs. Potts carried a heavily laden supper tray in her hands bearing two steaming bowls of soup from the kitchens and a chalice of water brought in from the well outside for Belle, though she could already feel her fatigue settling in.
There were so many things that Belle wanted to say to Adam, to her father, and everyone here in the room for that matter.
However, she was exhausted and her sore throat protested at the very idea of talking too much. Belle simply lay there, grateful to be alive and in the company of her father and the man that she knew herself to be hopelessly and desperately in love with. The man whom she would soon call husband. Just the thought caused her heart to flutter.
Belle nodded and smiled to hear Mrs. Potts, Lumiere, and Cogsworth offer their congratulations when the Prince relayed the news they were to be married, but Belle was still physically and mentally exhausted. Eventually, her eyes became heavy as she rested her head against the pillows, and she returned once more to the world of sleep.
Though this time, instead of darkness, her eyes let her see visions of the life she hoped to share with the Prince, a beautiful life, one where she was happy and content, and wanted for nothing.
Now that Gaston was no longer a threat, she could begin healing. She could put her old life behind her. Papa would move into the castle and live alongside her and Adam, and her father would want for nothing for the rest of his life.
The last thing Belle heard was Adam speaking in low tones to Lumiere, who was chuckling under his breath.
Between Lumiere and Cogsworth's efforts, the Prince's wedding to Belle would be the most lavish celebration their land had ever seen, if the Prince's Heads of House had it their way, and their realm would have their first Princess.