...Okay. So. You may have noticed that I didn't post this chapter yesterday like I was supposed to. That's because I sort of accidentally went hard with this chapter. Like, way too hard. I could probably make this into its own fic, but... here it is! Day 2 (wink wink) of Copperright Week 2023! Day two's prompt: Royalty! And of course, I had to go with the Beauty and the Beast AU for this one. Hence why it took me so long to finish; the shenanigans practically write themselves! Anyway, enough talk. Oh! And look up "Tale as Old as Time in Swedish" on YouTube or whatever music site you listen to when the dancing starts. Okay, now I'll see you at the bottom of the page.

The library was warm and cozy, like a dream. Given everything that had happened to Reginald in the past few months, it still surprised him every day that he wasn't, in fact, dreaming. Adjusting to life in the confines of a single building, even if that building was a large estate, but especially under the watchful eye of the beast that roamed its halls while talking objects tended to his every need, had been difficult, but the library was well worth it: chock full of more books than he'd ever seen in his life, ranging from dusty historical almanacs to rich novels of fantastical stories… and, surprisingly, there was good company.

The Beast sat nearby, staring intensely at the book in front of him while the light from the fireplace made his ginger fur coat glint like gold. Occasionally, the heat of the fire would make him adjust his position, or scratch his chin with his giant paw. It occurred to Reginald, just then, that the beast's occasional movements did not strike fear into his heart. Even when the beast sneezed loudly and suddenly at the turn of a particularly dusty page, Reginald said little more than a "bless you" before returning to his own book. It seemed that Reginald was quite comfortable in the presence of the beast; a beast large and strong enough to toss him over one shoulder to escape the hungry fury of a pack of wolves in the woods at night, but still gentle enough to cradle Reginald in his arms when he'd caught that awful cold some weeks ago. He could still feel the warmth of his fur surrounding him like a blanket, rough but plentiful enough that he could bury his face in it and breathe deep and-

…A-hem. He snapped his book shut and set it on the table next to him.

The Beast looked up at him. "Something wrong?"

"No," Reginald lied. "Just… thinking."

The Beast raised his furry brow. It was quiet for a moment. Reginald knew the beast wouldn't ask further, but he also knew that it would bother the fellow to no end until he explained himself. He glanced at the book he'd just put down: an enticing story of romance in the ballroom of a rich hostess, searching for the one person who would make her feel complete.

"I-I was just reading about ballroom dancing," Reginald said at last.

The Beast, who had been about to return to his own book, glanced again at Reginald. "You dance?"

Reginald smiled softly, running his fingers over the cover. "Sometimes, my mother would dance with me when I was young. She wanted to teach me in case I ever managed to make a life for myself. It was fun, though, obviously, it never amounted to much…" He huffed a bitter laugh. That was putting it lightly. He could still remember how hopeful he'd been as a boy, going from standing on his mother's feet as she moved to learning to lead despite his shorter stature, only to lose it all with the single strike of a match. That was when Terrence's gang had taken him in, and there had been no time for such frivolities.

It was quiet again. Reginald began to reach for the next book in his pile- a mysterious text with a title he couldn't begin to comprehend- when the Beast spoke again: "Would you like to dance?"

Reginald dropped the copy of "Amiafurrydotuquiz" with a clatter. "Dance? R-right now?"

The Beast sat up, his fur puffing out like a cat raising its hackles. "Not now- I mean, unless you want-?" He growled in frustration. "Just… the servants have been tidying up the ballroom, and… their work shouldn't go to waste. That's all." Reginald blinked rapidly, taking in the information. The Beast growled again, standing up with a flourish of his ragged cloak. "Nevermind, forget it-"

"No, wait!" Reginald grabbed his paw with both hands. They stared at each other for a moment. Reginald began running his fingers over the beast's paw pad, focussing on the smooth, slightly squishy sensation as he said: "You… have a point. They work hard, and that shouldn't go to waste. So… let's do it."

"...Really?"

"Y…Yes!" Reginald squeezed his paw more firmly and smiled up at him. "Let's get started! Unless…" his smile turned sly, "unless, of course, you don't know how to dance."

The Beast grinned, bearing his sharp teeth and squeezing back gently. "You think you can do better than me?"

Reginald batted his eyelashes. "We'll have to see, won't we?"

The Beast huffed in mock annoyance before slipping his paw out of Reginald's hands. "I'll go tell the servants. See you soon?"

Something warm spread through Reginald's chest. "Of course."

Reginald sat in the sitting room nearest the ballroom, patting his hands against his knees in anticipation. Would he be leading, or would the Beast lead? Would they start with a waltz, or try something more complicated? Were there any servants who were musical instruments-?

The uneven sound of wood and metal clattering on the floor drew his attention to the doorway.

Sven the Clock, Burt the Music Box, Geoffrey the Candlestick, and Thomas the Tape Measure tumbled into the room.

"Oh, hello," Reginald greeted. "Do you need something, or-?"

There was a distant roar, deep enough to shake the whole estate, and Reginald jumped to his feet. "What happened? Is he okay-?"

"He's fine," Burt droned as he toddled towards him. "He's just fussy 'cause he thinks we're complicating things."

"Complicating what-?"

"Your evening together, of course!" Sven declared, marching his little feet along the floor. He gestured with the elegant metal decals he used for arms towards Thomas, who wrapped himself around Reginald's wrist and began tugging him out of the room. "Honestly, of all the times for the Master to forget his upbringing, he chooses the night when he invites the gentleman for a dance! You'd think he was raised in a barn-"

"Don't say that, kid." Geoffrey puffed a bit of smoke from his top as he hopped after them. "Master was just excited, nothing wrong with that."

"Um," Reginald said as he was tugged up the stairs. "What's all this about, exactly?"

Sven huffed in annoyance. "The Master asked you to dance in the ballroom, correct?"

"Yes," Reginald said slowly, "but I thought we'd just go for it."

Sven scoffed, offended. "'Just go for it', he says! As if they're going for a hayride!"

"A hayride sounds kind of fun," Burt said, making tuneless sounds as he bounced up the stairs next to the clock.

Sven shot him a glare, nearly tripping up the last step. "Absolutely not! We'll do no such thing!"

"Aw, come on," Burt flipped open his lid and played a trilling set of notes. "You'd have a good time. I'd make sure of it."

"And how would you do that?"

"Well," Burt hopped closer to Sven, "first, I'd serenade you with a moving melody about your beautiful chassis-"

"SO!" Reginald interrupted, very much not interested in the courting practices of talking objects. "What are we doing, exactly?"

Thomas turned to look at him as he pulled him towards his room. "Getting you ready, dear man. You didn't think we'd stand idly by while you and the Master navigated such an occasion?"

"I-is it really an occasion…?" The door opened and the servants goaded Reginald into his room.

Carol the Wardrobe was standing in the middle of the room, her handles folded and one of her feet thumping against the floor as if she'd been waiting for them for too long. "It's about time you arrived," she scolded, gesturing with her doors towards the bathroom. "There's only so much time before nightfall and perfection takes time!"

Thomas let go of Reginald's wrist and pulled open the door, revealing that the tub was already full and hot.

"I really don't think it's that big a deal…" Reginald muttered as he stripped quickly and settled into the tub, sighing in the warm steam before scrubbing himself.

The hands on Sven's face began to tick rhythmically. "It is a big deal! A dance between the Master and the gentleman should be picture perfect! Fine food, music, candle light that will set the mood-"

"It's me," Geoffrey grinned, "I'm the candle light that'll set the mood."

"Yes, we know, friend," Thomas said kindly as he dragged a towel over to the table near the bath.

Reginald leaned back to soak his hair, grabbing the soap and scrubbing his head next. "It seems like a lot of fuss to me… it's just a dance."

"'Just a dance'," Sven grumbled under his breath.

"Look, sir," Burt sighed. "Let him have this, okay? It's been years since he got to organize something big. He's going stir crazy."

"I am not!" Sven exclaimed. "I am simply a clock who likes to get things done!"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Ah, to be young and in love," Geoffrey sighed, leaning towards Reginald with a grin. "Those two have been the only entertainment I've gotten in years."

The hands of Sven's face spun quickly. "D-don't say such things!"

"What's that?" Geoffrey grinned. "Speak up, there's wax in my ear."

"You are a candle! You are made of wax!"

"What? I can't hear you, there's wax in my eyes."

Sven shrieked, and Carol poked her top through the door. "Sven, the time?"

At that moment, Sven chimed five times. "Five o'clock, on the dot." He bonked against the tub. "You've been in there long enough! Hurry out, you'll get wrinkly."

"Coming, coming," Reginald huffed, washing the soap out of his hair one more time before stepping out of the tub, taking the towel and drying himself off. "Honestly, you're all making me nervous. This is hard enough as it is."

Thomas curled up on the table like a snake. "Is this difficult for you, sir? Do you not wish to dance?"

"I do," Reginald said quickly, toweling his hair roughly. "It's just… I haven't danced since I was young. He might be a beast, but he's been doing this far longer than I have; I don't want to make a fool of myself." He pulled his head out of the towel, catching his reflection in the mirror. His hair stuck out in wet strands, his mustache was getting frizzy at the ends, and he just looked so… pathetic. Like a wet cat. "I don't want him to think less of me," he said quietly, clenching the towel tightly in his hands.

The servants glanced at each other. After a moment, Thomas draped himself on Reginald's shoulder. "You needn't worry so, dear man," he said gently. "Besides, was it not the Master who asked you to dance? You're doing him a great honor, simply by saying yes. This isn't meant to be a frightening thing; it's all in good fun. Besides," he slipped off of Reginald's shoulder and pointed at Sven. "Much to Sven's chagrin, you can't plan for everything. The Master hasn't practiced in so long, you'll likely have to give him some pointers. Even Sven can't force the Master to remember the steps."

Sven huffed, crossing his decals. Burt bumped into him gently.

"If you're all done," Carol said shortly, "Come out of there already. This outfit won't wear itself."

"Outfit?" Reginald repeated, looking between all the servants. "Did you… plan for this, by any chance?"

"Dunno what you're talking about," Geoffrey replied.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Thomas agreed.

"Nah," Burt said.

"I'm simply performing my duty as the Master's advisor," Sven said, turning away from Reginald.

"Well, here's my advice," Carol said shortly. "Hurry up!"

"We're coming, Carol." Thomas wrapped around Reginald's wrist and pulled him gently back into the bedroom.

"You'd think she'd learn to lighten up," Geoffrey grumbled.

"That's impossible," Burt replied.

"Can you blame her, in all honesty?" Sven said quietly. "The clock is ticking; there's not much time left."

Burt gently nudged Sven. "It'll work out. You'll see."

Reginald had worn plenty of nice clothes since agreeing to stay with the Beast, but this one outshined them all. It was a golden suit with a white cravat, silky gold gloves and neat white shoes, and most thrilling of all: the tail of the coat fell like a skirt behind his legs, pinned up slightly with a deep golden sash of fabric, giving him the appearance of wearing a dress and a suit all at once. He spun around again, watching raptly as the skirt twirled and fluffed out around him. "It's perfect," he said.

"I certainly hope so," Thomas said proudly. "After all, I measured every piece of it myself."

"You look great, kid," Geoffrey said, standing a careful distance away to let his light shine on the fabric without setting it on fire.

"It's pretty nice," Burt agreed. Someone sniffled. "Sven? What's wrong?"

Sven was crying, the hands on his face spinning wildly with emotion. "I-it's just *hic* so-o p-p-perfect and *hic* I'm s-so ha-appy…!"

"Oh, Sven," Reginald reached down and patted the top of the clock. "It's wonderful. Thank you, all of you."

Carol hummed happily. "It certainly is nice to have our hard work appreciated. But enough about us; tonight is about you and the Master. Go to him now, hurry up."

Reginald straightened and adjusted his cravat once more. They had departed from the bedroom earlier, and Reginald now stood at the top of the stairs, anticipation lighting along his nerves like quicksilver.

Then he arrived: striding smoothly to a stop at the bottom of the stairs before raising a paw out to him. The Beast wore a rich blue suit, lined with white and gold that complimented his shining red fur. Reginald's heart soared, and he couldn't help but grin widely as he descended the stairs and took the offered paw in hand. "You look lovely," he said quietly.

"I know," said the Beast. "I mean- you, too."

Reginald laughed lightly. "Thank you. Now… I believe there was mention of dinner?"

The Beast hooked his arm out, letting Reginald hold onto it. "Yeah. Let's go."

Dinner was wonderful, not too filling but certainly not skimping on the amount or flavor. True to his word, Geoffrey made the light of the candles scattered about the dining room set the mood just so, warm and bright until the meal was done, then lighting up even more brightly as music began to play from down the hall, in the ballroom. Excited by the song, Reginald pulled the Beast from his seat and into the ballroom, which glistened and gleamed as if every inch had been polished (and indeed, it had been).

With the elaborately painted ceiling and elegant chandelier sparkling above them, the twinkling music provided by Burt setting the beat, and Sven himself singing a gentle song in a language Reginald didn't know, it was the perfect way to begin.

He set one hand high up on the Beast's arm that curved around his back, and set his other hand in the one the Beast offered him. They started slowly at first, getting into the rhythm of stepping together without tripping over each other, but soon they were sweeping across the ballroom with grand movements, spinning and twirling together as if they were the only two people in the entire world. At one point, Reginald found himself laying his head on the Beast's broad chest, their movements slowing and growing more intimate, more tender. The Beast rested his chin on top of Reginald's head, shifting their weight together in time with the music and singing as it began to slow down. The candles dimmed slowly, the bright starry night outside illuminating the room with their sparse glow. The Beast led Reginald out to the balcony, and they settled down on a stone bench, gazing up at the sky while embracing each other for warmth.

~Sagan ger oss svar, varje väsen har skönhet inuti~

~The fairytale gives us the answer: every being has beauty within~

Like I said, I went hard.

I got inspired by seeing at least two different pieces of art that portrayed Reginald and Right Hand Man as Beauty and the Beast, and then I went ham. I could probably write a full fic telling the full (Disney) story of Beauty and the Beast, and do pretty well with it, too. Maybe another day.

Sven is a clock. I was originally going to make him a teapot since he ends up singing the song, but I figured that a clock was more suited to his personality.

Burt is a music box. I wanted something audio oriented, since he's the communication liason, but given the relative time period, I was pretty limited. He's also a bit of a square, so boom, music box. (Sven and Burt have their own thing going on, too.)

Geoffrey Plumb is a candle stick. A giant candle stick. I thought about making him a hairbrush to fit with his big head, but I also wanted a "Lumiere" (the candle guy from the Disney movie), so now I imagine Geoffrey is a giant candle, big enough to need to be lifted with two hands. Reginald can barely carry him, which is just a really funny image.

Thomas Chestershire is a tape measuerer. I originally wanted a scene where Thomas was measuring Reginald for his outfit, but then the scene became something else. I imagine at the beginning of Reginald's adventure, Thomas insisted on checking his measurements to see what clothes he could get him to wear.

Carol Cross is a wardrobe. This isn't really particularly fitting, but the wardrobe character from the Disney movie was really iconic, so Carol is now a wardrobe.

(She doesn't show up, but I imagine Gremlin is the footstool dog) :)

I also gave Beast RHM beans. I just think it's nice.

Alright, enough of that! I don't know if I'll finish Day 3 tonight, but if I don't, expect it tomorrow! I'll see you all later. Until then!