Several moments of uncomfortable silence followed Lefou's exposition. Lefou used this time to reflect on how great it was that Gaston was feeling so much better while edging subtly out of reach. Gaston was trying to rearrange this new information so that it would fit in a particular hole in his brain. It wouldn't go.

"So this long-lost prince just appears out of nowhere and marries her? I turn my back – break it – for one minute and some prince thinks he can just take her?"

Lefou hazarded a nod. "I guess so."

Gaston fumed. Lefou wondered if he could get away with edging out of the building altogether.

"I asked nicely and she refused." Gaston was pacing now. "What does she want me to do?"

Lefou frowned. "Well... nothing. She's married to the prince now." He gave a weak grin. "Nothing we can do about that, huh, Gaston? Guess we'll have to find someone else—"

Gaston wheeled round to stare his diminutive companion squarely in the face. "No one says no to Gaston." His eyes seemed almost to glow. Briefly, Lefou wondered if this was what hell looked like. "No one."

Another silence. The tension in the room crackled over Lefou's skin.

"So... what do you want to do?" He really didn't want to ask, but he knew he had no choice.

Gaston looked away, cracking his knuckles. "I don't know yet," he said. "But I'll think of something." He'd invested a lot of time in Belle, time he could have been spending on dozens of other women who knew when to stop playing hard to get. He wasn't about to give up now, prince or no prince.

Morning. A big, bright, beautiful morning! The path ahead was clear and wide, flecked with dazzling sunlight split into patterns by the overhanging trees, the horse beneath her barely containing its boundless energy even as they flew along at a gallop – just as well, given the urgency with which they travelled. Now and then, Belle's hand moved instinctively for her sword and the feel of the cool, hard metal reassured her. But even with so great a responsibility on her shoulders, even with the fate of the world in her hands, she could not deny the exhilaration she was feeling, the swell of excitement in her chest. She looked sideways to her husband, her partner, her best friend and marvelled at the way his hair flew behind him, at the light dancing in his bright blue eyes. He met her gaze and they shared a smile so filled with happiness that it turned into a laugh. The world changed around them, danger faced them at every turn, but they fought as one, side by side. Nothing in the world could touch them as long as they were together.

"Bon matin, cherie!" It was Lumière, and she was back in the library.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts, then turned around. "Good morning, Lumière."

He scrutinised her face. "Is everything alright?"

She gave a deliberate smile. "Yes, of course!"

"The Master said you would assist me in the selection of his vêtements for next week."

Belle shook her head, gently, still smiling. "He only said that to make me feel involved, Lumière, you know that. You'll do a wonderful job with his clothes, just like you always do."

"She's not happy," were Lumière's first words as he entered the kitchen.

Mrs Potts and Cogsworth looked up from what they were doing, which was discussing the menus for the Illyrian visit.

"I beg your pardon?" Cogsworth enquired.

Lumière pulled up a chair. "The princess. Belle. She is unhappy."

Cogsworth frowned. "In what way?"

"I don't know. It is something in her eyes." He gave his colleague a sideways glance. "Of course, I am not surprised that an insensitive clod like you has not noticed."

Mrs Potts sighed, intervening before Cogsworth could think of a retort. "You're right. I've tried talking to her, but the poor girl won't let on what it is that's bothering her."

"Perhaps we could have the Master summon the royal dressmaker," Cogsworth suggested. "A new gown might-"

"No, no," Lumière interrupted, exasperated. "I cannot believe that Belle is in distress for want of a dress."

"No, that won't do." Mrs Potts looked around to make sure they were alone, then asked "Do you think it's the Master?"

Lumière leaned in. "What do you mean?"

"Well... do you think everything's alright between them?"

"She knows he loves her," Cogsworth observed. "The curse wouldn't have been lifted if he didn't."

They were silent for a moment as they contemplated this.

"No one is saying he does not love her," Lumière said, eventually. "But it is possible that they have lost a certain..." He looked thoughtfully at his hand. "Spark."

Mrs Potts nodded. "They don't spend much time together. The Master always seems to be so busy."

"With important diplomatic matters that are attached to his status," Cogsworth interjected. "This is a complex time politically and it is imperative that the Master is attentive to his duties. Only two weeks ago, I cleared an entire day at his request-"

"It was their anniversary, dear."

"Yes, but what's that to a foreign king's emissary?"

Lumière rolled his eyes. "What is a foreign king's emissary when compared to the love of the Master and his princess?"

"He couldn't manage without her," said Mrs Potts. "You know that."

"That's true," Cogsworth conceded. "But he doesn't have to. What's she going to do, run off and seek her fortune? She's a princess. She's got everything she could possibly want."

Lumière snorted. "Cogsworth, you have no passion in your soul."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think what Lumière means," Mrs Potts said, quickly, "is that we don't know what Belle wants. Who's to say that being a princess is all she's ever dreamed of?"

Cogsworth huffed. "Oh, now, really, it's not as though I'm talking about some poor peasant girl snatched away from her family and forced to live a life of uncomfortable privilege against her will. Belle chose this."

Mrs Potts shook her head. "No, Belle chose the Master."

"Who was born into the royal family, with all that that entails."

"And who looked like a Beast." Lumière sighed. "She fell in love with the Master. Not his face, and not his crown."

Cogsworth was out of arguments. "Very well. What do you propose we do?"

Tim had been a fork once. Of course, it was all ancient history now and, like everyone else, he'd learned to adjust to life on two legs. One of his favourite things about not being cutlery any more, apart from not having to enter anyone's mouth, was spending a good, raucous night at the tavern with his friends. That had certainly been the plan for tonight. Except that now his friends had disappeared and the world was starting to look a bit wobbly.

He leaned heavily on the bar, looking around for a familiar face. He didn't find one, but he wasn't too worried. He wasn't too worried about anything just at the moment. Hey, maybe he could make some new friends. He could certainly have another drink.

He was just about to act on this wonderful idea when, as if by magic, one manifested itself in his hand. A drink, not an idea. Beyond it loomed a friendly smile attached to a huge, red stranger. "Hello, friend," said the stranger. "The name's Gaston."

A drink and a new friend? Just by thinking about it? Looked like this was his lucky night! "Tim," he said, getting better acquainted with his new drink.

"Good to meet you Tim." Gaston smiled. "I hear you work up at the castle. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Hello again! I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone reading this story – I think that's the most popular first chapter I've ever had!