Ansel wandered into Belle's library.

A fraction of the size of the castle's, it was still her sanctuary. The bookshelves they had built themselves went to the ceiling, her collection still growing yet impressive, and the hearth warm and welcoming in the late night. He found her rocking chair by the fire conspicuously absent. The tea setting resting on the table next to it untouched, the light of the flame dancing across the gleaming porcelain.

"Ansell?"

Walking around the couch that's fabric was studded with flowers, he discovered her curled up on her side. Head on a pillow, quilt up to her shoulders, brown eyes weary and half open. "Not the rocker?"

"This feels better on my back." Reaching out, she took his wrist and gave it a pull. Lifting her head as he took a seat, she pushed the pillow away and scooted up. Setting her head in his lap, pushing the blanket down to below her waist. Her knees curled up as high as she could draw them, belly heavy with child.

"And how are my darlings?" he asked softly, reaching across and sliding his hand across the large curve under the robe she loosely wore. Their firstborn stretching and kicking, nearly ready to enter the world.

"Very big." She grunted uncomfortably, tiredly. Taking a hand and resting it on his own. Guiding it to where she could feel a head or a rump pressing against the side. Their son or daughter had settled low in the last few weeks, preparing for labor. "One of us is very ready for the other to arrive."

"Any day now." he soothed, rubbing the spot lovingly. Taking his other hand and carefully tucking the lock of hair that had fallen out of her braid behind an ear, he listened to a slightly frustrated sigh.

Catching the fondness in his eyes, Ansell wistful in adoration, Belle gazed up at him curiously. "What is it?"

"Oh, just that you're are the most beautiful creature in all of creation."

A little smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, well aware he wasn't saying it just to flatter. "Even this big?"

"Especially so." Smiling, he felt the newest edition to their family settle down to his petting. Having been told his baby enjoyed his hands it never ceased to amaze the father-to-be how much it felt true. "Carrying our little one. Who, I'll assume, is just as lovely as her or his mother." Musing, he added. "And by the look of it, just as stubborn seeing as they were supposed to arrive a few days ago."

"Gets it from you." Belle yawned.

"Can I do anything else?" He asked softly.

Mulling it over, she turned her head. Looking up into the warm blue eyes brimming with adoration, Belle asked hopefully. "Could you read?"

"Then I'd have to stop soothing this one." He noted.

"That's fine." Gently pushing Ansell's hand away, she took up massaging the spot where the baby had nestled. "And it's even better."

Furrowing his brows, her husband tilted his head ever so slightly to the side.

"I'm not the only one who likes it when you read out loud," Belle told him, watching his face slacken at the information.

"Really?" Ansell asked quietly, heart skipping a beat.

She chuckled tiredly, nodding her head. "Yes. You're very popular already."

A silence passed as he took in the information. Belle taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. Well aware he struggled with the uncertainty of whether or not he could be good enough for their little one. Ansell's eyes stinging at the thought that perhaps, just possibly, he was already doing something right.

Blinking several times to clear the overwhelming rush of emotions, he nodded his head. "Of course." Reaching over, he took a small book from the side table. Flipping through the pages to find one of their favourites, clearing his throat.

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds-"

They had settled into a comfortable routine with Henri.

He was by all accounts from others with far more experience, an easy baby. Only fussing when he was wet or needed milk, sleeping through the night, and clearly enjoying being held. And with three adults in the house he was usually in someone's arms.

Belle woke up from a well-needed nap. Confused as it was dark, the moon shining through their windows, she fixed her sleep-mussed hair and wandered downstairs to the kitchen. There was a single candle left, a plate of food at the table, and the rest of the room tidied up from a dinner she had missed.

Ansell's dulcet tones were meandering through the hallway and coming from the den. Following the sound, she paused once in the doorway, taking in the scene. Maurice was reading by the fireplace, and Ansell was off to the side with Henri. Her husband had their freshly bathed son on his chest, holding the newborn in place with one large palm, the other keeping a copy of Robinson Crusoe open. His deep, soothing voice was reading aloud softly to the baby whose eyelids bobbed. Henri all of three-weeks-old and gripping his waistcoat, whimpering every once in awhile which was soothed with a soft back rub. Leaning against the doorway, Belle gave herself the time to quietly watch them.

He had found his stride as a father. The first week Ansell had been sweet yet unsure of how to assist. Feeling clumsy, excluded, and sadly out of place when the midwives came to check on his wife and child and shoo him away. However, Maurice had been a willing guide and he had blossomed into an attentive Papa. Eager to see his darlings after work, more than happy to tend to Henri even when he was a bit of a mess.

Smiling warmly, her heart wanting to burst with the sight of father and son she walked over, catching his attention.

"Did you get your dinner?" Ansell asked, carefully setting the book upside down on the table, patting Henri's rump as his son began to whine and huff as soon as Belle spoke. A signal he needed Maman.

"No not yet, but thank you for letting me sleep." Resting a hand on his shoulder, she leaned over and gently, tenderly kissed him. Well aware that few men of their time would tend to their newborn, much less read to the little one. "How's our boy?"

"A little fussy." He leaned into the fingers scratching his beard. Never wanting Henri to feel he was cold, cruel, or distant, Ansell boosted the tiny thing up higher on his chest, enjoying his son nuzzling into his neck as their wee one let out an unhappy grunt. "But he nurses around this time, so I think it's safe to say you're the expert to step in."

"That I am. Come here, mon petit." Rocking her body and shifting her baby, Henry began to squeak and root around her breast. Pushing against the silk of the robe that she had found since her delivery the most comfortable and easy thing to wear "I know, we're hungry." She soothed, ghosting the tips of her fingers across Henri's delicate forehead. "He loves it when you read to him, you know."

Her husband's lips twitched as he watched his son look for dinner. A blessedly healthy baby boy, already growing and getting stronger every day. "He just likes soft noise." He dismissed.

"Ansell," she looked down at her son, the large navy eyes gazing up at her as the tiny mouth frowned. "Henri loves you reading to him. He always has."

Bowing his head, a smile played on Ansell's, feeling a pang of happiness towards Belle's declaration.

Beginning to step towards a chair in the living room, already unlacing the front of her gown, Belle paused and looked over her shoulder. Eyes clearly holding a plan as she patted the little back. "Would you come to the library with us? With your book, please."

Nodding his head, he followed. The fire was low in her room, so he added another log to ward off the early spring chill that clung to the corners of the house. Turning, he found Belle not in her rocker, but on the couch. His Henri's fussing ceasing as the sound of noisy suckling replaced it, tiny hands clumsily kneading for milk.

Belle patted the spot next to her.

Ansell padded over and sank against the cushions. "Look at this boy," Reaching over the top of the couch back, he pulled a blanket down and draped it over her lap. Cradling her face as he gave her the most tender and proud of kisses, smiling tiredly against her lovely mouth. "And you, together."

"Remember when you were scared of him?" She asked, nuzzling against him, brown eyes closing in contentment.

"How could I not be?" Tilting his chin down, he watched as she gently rubbed a thumb over Henri's pink cheek to help him along. "You two were so perfect when he arrived, and I stood there rather stupidly, the only ideas of raising a son absolutely terrible ones."

"But look at you now." Belle's voice radiated pride. "Such a good Papa."

Reaching down, he cupped a little foot covered in a knitted bootie. Henri letting out a little grunt as he focused on his milk. Kissing her again, Ansell felt Belle settle against his shoulder. Relishing the feeling of his family so close. "I hope so."

"You're nothing like him." She reassured, fighting not to yawn. Gingerly holding the little head that had a patch of brown fluff at the top closer to her breast. "And you're going to keep reading out loud to us."

Grinning, he took his book and opened it back to the right page. Stealing one last kiss. "Anything for my darlings."

Belle watched their son, feeling him relax to his father's reading.

-Fin-

A/N: Ansell begins to recite Sonnet 116 at the end of the first half.