A/N - Hello after a couple years! So SO sorry for the delay, and thank you to everyone who has left comments and messages in the meantime. You are the absolute best!

No promises on any kind of a regular update schedule; however, I do have much of the next chapter written and hope to get it out before the end of the year.

Love you guys! xoxo, greensearcher

p.s. — Over on AO3 I'm upping this story's rating to E(xplicit), for future lovemaking ;) FFN technically doesn't allow that kind of content, so I'll be censoring it here.

The prince who lived in Adam's mind sometimes got lost in his memories.

Tonight, he had his forehead pressed against the muggy glass, staring through his own ghostly reflection. The street behind the window was muddy and depressing, filled with hollow-faced onlookers dressed in rags. As a child, he had watched the crowds with curiosity, eagerly returning their waves and begging Papa to let him leave the carriage so he could play with the children in the street. He never had.

The prince scowled, for the memory repulsed him. Now, all he saw when he looked out this window was Maman weaving through their ranks, their greedy hands falling all over her while taking advantage of her gentleness. Pouring their deadly breath into her.

The prince's hands had formed fists in his lap, his jaw tight and trembling. But then the carriage went over a bump, knocking his face against the glass. He cursed, sitting up and rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I don't know why we must ride through their filth," he grumbled.

"My apologies, your Highness," Cogsworth said, sitting beside him and cleaning the face of his pocket watch with a handkerchief. "I should have prevented that landslide on the main bridge."

The prince was too tired to acknowledge the sarcasm. Instead, he watched as one beggar broke through the crowd, running towards their carriage with outstretched hands. The prince sat up straight in his seat, wide-eyed, but his guards quickly chased the peasant away. He sat back and folded his arms against the pounding in his chest.

"The plague is long past," Cogsworth said, his voice suddenly, strangely gentle. "There's no need to—"

"I know that," the boy snapped. "I just didn't want him muddying up the carriage. Disgusting creatures."

He didn't know why he said it. He tightened his arms hard across his chest and slumped back in his seat, scowling at his own reflection.

"You shouldn't say things like that."

The prince was startled a second time, turning towards the new voice. A girl sat across from him, donning a soft yellow gown that spilled into his knees and filled all the floor space of the compartment.

"Where did you come from?" he demanded. He looked at the seat beside him, but it seemed his valet had vanished as suddenly as the girl appeared. "Where's Cogsworth?"

She frowned, a lock of hair falling across her forehead. "He's gone. Don't you remember?"

The prince tried to stand, whacked his head on the ceiling, cussed again, and sat back down. "What are you talking about?" he said, resisting the urge to rub his scalp. He looked more closely at the stranger across from him. It was dark, only intermittent flickers of light coming from the torches carried by his guards outside, but from what he could tell she didn't seem particularly threatening. In fact, something about her felt very familiar. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Don't you know?" she asked, cocking her head. "Haven't you been paying any attention to them?"

She leaned in close, and the prince grew warm. She was pretty… really pretty, and for a moment he was mesmerized by the freckles dancing over her face and speckling her bare shoulders. But he'd seen plenty of attractive girls before and not one of them had soothed his loneliness.

He looked away, too tired to play this game tonight. "I'm not really interested."

"Clearly not," she said, sitting back and laying one ankle on her opposite knee. Beneath that glorious gown, she was wearing boots. "Look at you," she went on. "Driving through your kingdom, ignoring those who rely on you. Have you ever shown any interest in them?"

He looked back at her face, startled. "Wait, you're not here to…"

"Please you?" She laughed once, coldly. "Of course you would assume that. No, my prince, I'm certainly not here for any such thing. You don't care about them, so how can you possibly care about me?"

"I didn't mean…" Her words felt like a knife in his heart, leaving his mind muddled and his chest aching. Before he could gather his thoughts again, she had gathered up her gown in one arm, stood, and pressed hard on the door handle.

Icy wind filled the carriage. The girl hiked her skirts above her ankles and jumped out of the car, then turned back. She eyed him with a look of utter disgust. "You're no different than him," she said quietly.

And in that moment, Adam remembered. He sucked in a breath, cold air crawling deep into his chest. "Wait—" He stopped, coughing roughly. "Just a—"

The door slammed shut behind her. He coughed again, unable to stop as he scrambled to find the door's handle in the darkness. When he did it felt as cold as his heart, and locked just as tight.

Adam gasped for breath, tugging hard on the handle, but the door wouldn't budge. Unable to speak and growing frantic, he kicked at the door, threw his fists at the windows. Yet his strength quickly failed and he fell back into his seat, wheezing.

Let me out, please, he thought desperately, sucking in too little air and trembling head to toe. Let me out!

Adam sat up straight from the floor, gasping for breath like he'd just risen from the dead. He oriented himself quickly, noting the orange embers in the hearth, his shadow climbing up the short wall. Belle lying beside him, curled up beneath the blankets.

"Shit," he breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. The dream had felt so real, real enough that he sucked in long, deep breath just to remind himself he now could.

Belle, wait! I remember! I'm sorry!

The prince had followed him out of the dream. He was still breathless, resting his hands on his knees and panting as if he'd been running for miles. Where did she go? he gasped. I didn't mean it…

Adam didn't want to talk to him. He wanted him to go away.

It's not true, the prince pressed. What she said about me. I care about people. I just… he trailed off, wringing his gloves anxiously in his hands.

Adam sighed. Belle didn't really say that, he told his mind. It was just a nightmare.

But the prince couldn't hear him. She hates me. She thinks I'm a bad person. And she's right, he whimpered. The enchantress was right.

Adam laid back down, closing his eyes and pointedly ignoring the prince who was now pacing from one side of his mind to the other.

Do you think… The boy stopped, crossing his arms tightly over his chest once again. Do you think she would still love you if she remembered me?

Adam's eyes opened again. Why hadn't he considered this before? Surely Belle had known of him before the curse stole her memories. What if she had hated him then? After all, he'd failed her as a ruler too, just like he'd failed everyone else.

Adam sat up again, wringing his own hands together now. He glanced back down at where Belle slept. I told her who I was, he reasoned with himself. I told her the truth.

About everything?

Adam swallowed. It was true that he hadn't really shared any details. Belle hadn't asked, but was it still wrong to keep them from her? Should he come clean about the arrogant, heartless things he used to say? About each duty he'd ignored?

About all the people he'd slept with?

Adam wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach, nauseated at the memories of his past foolishness. How badly would the truth hurt her? He didn't want to cause her any more pain. He couldn't.

"Adam…"

He turned. "Belle! You're—" awake, he was going to say, but stopped upon seeing her curled up tightly into herself, covering her head with both hands.

"A-Adam…" she said breathlessly. She was trembling. "Adam…"

His eyes grew wide. Another night terror. It was the third night in a row, the seventh total in the fortnight since she'd told him the details of what happened to her. "Belle, I'm here," he said, reaching for her hands.

She flinched. "Stop!" she gasped, burying her head closer to her chest. "Stop… Adam…"

The blood drained from his face. He pulled his hand away quickly. "Belle, wake up. Wake up!" he called out, as loudly as he dared. He didn't want to yell too loudly, given her history.

"Adam… please…"

What was she dreaming about? Was he… Adam couldn't bear to think of it. He looked about, trying to think of a way to wake her that wouldn't make it worse. He saw the warm fire, the pile of furs where she trembled, the dark window now completely buried in snow. It gave him an idea.

With great care, he gathered Belle into his arms along with as many furs as he could manage in order to reduce their contact. She didn't wake, so he moved to the door, kicked open the latch, and pressed his shoulder hard against the snow already filling in the path he'd plowed out the morning before. Still she slept, so he stepped over the threshold and brought her out into the cold night air.

"Adam… A-Adam…"

An owl flew silently out of the forest, startling him. It fought the stormy air to perch on their roof, where it hooted quietly.

"Belle, please… wake up," Adam tried again, turning back to her. He stood with his back to the wind, which rippled through his fur and pulled several strands of Belle's hair from her braid.

"Adam…"

He dropped his head close to hers, closing his eyes. "I'm here, not there," he spoke softly into her ear. The wind whipped harder, and he heard a tree fall somewhere in the distance. He pulled her a little closer. "I love you. I'll never hurt you. Wake up, Belle. Come back to me."

He heard her breathing change, and opened his eyes. Belle stared up at him, wide-eyed.

"You're awake," he said in relief.

Belle glanced towards the dark woods. She seemed confused.

"We're home," he said, turning and ducking back into the house. He pulled the door tightly shut behind them, muffling the wind and sending small tendrils of snow along the floor.

Belle's trembling had become a violent shaking by the time they reached the hearth. He started to quickly lay her back down when she reached for him, wordlessly. He let the furs fall to the ground and helped her climb into his arms.

"I'm sorry for bringing you into the cold," he said, scooting them closer to the fire. "I didn't know how else to wake you." He was starting to wonder if he should have woken her at all. Perhaps the dream would have been forgotten if he'd let her sleep through it. He frowned, wishing he was better equipped to help her.

He started to feel moisture in his fur where Belle rested her head. Felt the tension in her body as she gasped raggedly. "Breathe," he said deeply, filling his lungs with air and letting it out when he spoke again. "Breathe."

She did, with difficulty at first but slowly finding his rhythm while relaxing her grip on him. The shaking soon subsided and she rested heavily against him, sniffling.

"S… sorry," she whispered.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. How are you feeling?"

She sighed. "Exhausted."

Adam swallowed. "Was… I hurting you?" he asked. He was afraid to hear her answer, but he had to know.

She hummed softly. "No, no. I was calling for you. And you came for me." She reached up weakly, running her fingers along his jaw before letting them rest against his neck. "Thank you."

Every muscle in his body relaxed. He kissed the top of her head. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Belle was quiet for a moment. "No," she decided. "Not this time."

Adam rocked gently where he sat, staring into the flames and sending murderous thoughts towards a man who was already dead. He thought Belle had fallen asleep again when she spoke.

"Adam?"

"Mm?" he said, stilling.

"I don't understand. Why have my nightmares grown worse? I thought, after I told you…" She grimaced a little. "I mean, I felt so relieved."

"It was still a hard thing to do. It brought up a lot for your mind to process."

She huffed, blowing the loose hair from her eyes. "How irritating."

"My…" He stopped, wondering if what he was going to say would actually help. He didn't want to make this about himself, after all, especially since she had suffered far more. But Belle had already gotten that curious look in her eye, and so there was no turning back now. "Mine also got worse after everything ended, is all," he said.

She looked surprised. "Really?"

He hummed a quiet affirmative. They watched the fire in a gentle silence.

After a time Belle shifted, looking back up at him. "How long does it take for them to go away?" she asked.

She looked so hopeful, which made him feel even worse that he didn't have a better answer for her. "They may not completely go away," he admitted, recalling the dream he'd just had. "And… they might get worse, before they get better. But then they'll weaken tremendously, and return much less frequently."

She deflated a little, but seemed to accept that. Then she reached for his hand, looking up at him with still-damp eyes. "How did you bear it alone?"

He squeezed her hand back. "You don't need to worry about me."

"But—"

"Want some tea, or are you ready to sleep?"

She pulled away and raised a brow at him, but only sighed and rested back where she'd been before. "I'm so tired, but… I don't think I can sleep anymore tonight."

"I understand."

"You can though." She pulled away again and looked towards their bed, which he'd completely upset when trying to wake her. He let her down from his arms and she began rearranging the blankets as they preferred them. While she did he turned, adding two more logs to the fire and grabbing a chamber candlestick from the mantle. "Do you want to be alone?" he asked, lighting it in the flames.

"No," she said quickly. Then she grimaced. "But you still need your sleep—"

"I'll stay up with you," he said, taking the candle with him as he headed into their little kitchen. "We can have a midnight snack."

She chuckled, and the sound seemed to brighten the whole room. "You're always looking for an excuse to eat."

"Time for something sweet…" he hummed to himself, pulling out a jar of honeyed butter and a loaf of bread he'd made the night before. The outside had baked correctly this time, at least. "Moment of truth," he announced, slicing into it. He held up the open ends in the light of the candle, facing Belle. "I can't look. You tell me."

She made a sound of delight. "Looks good from here."

He brightened, checking it himself. Sure enough, it looked like bread was supposed to look, soft and fluffy, unlike his previous four attempts that had been underdone, overdone, filled with pockets of air, or just completely hollow.

A pleasant warmth filled his chest. Oddly enough, he couldn't recall ever feeling so proud of himself. Humming happily, he cut out several thick slices, slathered them with butter, and brought them back over the fire. They munched in a pleasant silence, watching the flames crackling over the new logs.

"That was so good," Belle finally said as she finished her slice. She eyed him. "You're becoming quite adept around the house these days."

He swallowed the last of his third piece. "Seems you've domesticated the beast," he said, waggling his eyes at her.

"God, Adam."

He laughed, pushing himself to his feet to get seconds. "Another course, perhaps?" he called over his shoulder.

"Oh, I shouldn't…"

He crouched beside the cellar, glancing over the list of rations Belle had pinned up on the wall. "Berries? And… maybe we can crack open those olives?"

Belle jumped to her feet.

He chuckled. "That's a yes?"

She shrugged, smiling a little and lacing her fingers together as she stretched them high above her head. She was wearing a winter chemise, but the fire was still bright enough to show through, outlining her form beneath.

The room blurred around the edges of Adam's vision, his breath growing heavy in his chest. His body felt restless, aching to touch her again, to run his hands over every curve and kiss every part of her that had ever felt pain. He'd told her he loved her, but he wanted to show her, wanted to give her every pleasure she deserved but had been denied for so long.

Belle paused mid-stretch, and turned towards him. He quickly looked away, breathing out slowly and trying to ignore the growing ache in his groin. She was dealing with so much right now, was in such a vulnerable place… he needed to keep these feelings to himself until she was ready.

He heard Belle draw closer and looked up. His candle cast shadows over her, highlighting every perfect feature in a warm glow. Her sleeve was dangerously close to falling off her shoulder, and Adam was dangerously close to internal combustion.

She twisted that loose strand of hair around her finger, tucking it behind her ear and looking up at him through her lashes. "Can I borrow this?" she asked, motioning to the candlestick in his hand.

Adam nodded, unable to form a coherent reply and hoping she hadn't noticed… it.

Belle entered the cellar, taking the light with her and giving him a chance to recover. In an attempt to distract himself, he forced himself to recite one of the Shakespearean monologues he'd memorized decades ago:

My mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower, while she was in her dull and sleeping hour …

Adam frowned. This wasn't helping.

"It's cold down here," Belle said, probably to herself, but his ears easily picked it up and his bizarre sixth sense could tell she was shivering even from here. Adam's brain presented him with a number of creative ways in which he might warm her up.

He shook his head quickly, and tried a different play:

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt—

God. No. That was worse.

"Where are those at, again?" Belle called up to him.

"Um…" He cleared his throat roughly. "Top right shelf, I think?"

And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip …

Adam's eyes grew wide. Definitely not that one.

He heard Belle climbing the ladder, grunting, and his traitorous brain pictured her stretching towards the far reaches of the shelf, bent over at the waist…

Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up …

Adam grabbed at the fur of his temples. Lord above, why couldn't he think of a normal scene?

His brain had now gone completely rogue, picturing him holding her up while her fingers grazed the olive jar, paws sliding up her soft legs, parting them, a moan escaping her as his finger slipped between—

Adam stood up quickly, breathing out a fiery hot breath and stalking towards the front door. He yanked it open, letting the freezing night air cascade over him.

O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with such a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass!

GET OUT! Adam roared at his mind. The prince cackled, gave a dramatic bow, and vanished.

It, on the other hand, showed no sign of leaving. Time to accept defeat. "Belle?" he called down. "I need to run out for a minute."

"That's fine!"

Adam breathed out slowly, leaning heavily against a tree a quarter mile from the house and standing knee-deep in the snow.

Here again?

Adam sighed. Here again.

Got things taken care of?

You're a prick.

The prince smirked, holding his arms out in front of him and casually adjusting two heavily embroidered cuffs.

Adam raised a brow. You certainly calmed down.

A servant's hands appeared from the shadows of his consciousness, dabbing heavy costume makeup on the prince's face. I got an idea, he said, shrugging.

Adam had absolutely no interest in learning what that meant, preferring not to confirm his own clinical insanity.

But enough about me. Why are you still hiding this? What if she's ready to try again? You haven't even asked her, and she's clearly coming on to you.

Adam's eyes widened, looking back towards the house. I don't think… Was she?

The prince raised a brow. Did you go blind, old man?

Adam was now too distracted to tell him off. He bit his lip. She isn't used to saying no. I don't want to accidentally pressure her into anything. Don't you remember what Lumiere said?

The prince scowled. Of course I remember.

"Little prince… listen close."

"I'm not that little," Adam grumbled. He was leaning against a wall, staring over the ballroom watching dozens of couples sweeping across the floor. It was an hour into his first dance and he'd already had enough awkward interactions to last a month. He'd thought this shadowed alcove a safe enough place to escape, but Lumiere had found him regardless. The man rested on the wall right beside him, holding a tray of tiny cakes just out of Adam's reach.

"You are getting older and this is important," Lumiere went on quietly. "I do not know of anyone else who will explain this to you."

Adam wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, Lumiere. I know about that."

"Not exactly what I was talking about, although … I can offer additional, ah, information as it becomes needed."

Adam tried not to look too curious. Lumiere, on the other hand, looked … uncomfortable. It was weird. "What?" Adam asked, standing on his toes and reaching towards the tray.

Lumiere moved it away from him, distracted. He cleared his throat. "You are a very powerful man," he said, sounding rehearsed, "and as such, there will be many who will obey you, or seek to, ah, please you… because they fear you."

Outwardly, Adam rolled his eyes. Inwardly, he felt uneasy.

"That's how they see you," Lumiere pressed. "Do you understand me?"

Adam frowned. "Sure," he said, not really understanding at all.

Lumiere stared at him, then dropped a head into his hand. "Sacre bleu, how are you this dense?"

"I'm twelve!" Adam crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look bigger than he was. "Lumiere, do you know who you're talking to—"

Lumiere looked at him fiercely, and it was so unlike him that Adam fell quiet again. "I do know who I'm talking to. That's why I'm telling you this." He sucked in a tempered breath, resting his free hand on Adam's shoulder. "Let me be blunt. It is difficult to say no to a prince. It is especially difficult for a girl who is unsure how you might react to her rejection."

Finally, the pieces slipped together. "I'd never… I wouldn't…" Adam's chest felt heavy, hurt that Lumiere would think him capable of something so awful.

The man finally relaxed again, looking more like his normal, cheerful self. "I know you wouldn't," he said, finally lowering the cakes to Adam's level. "But they don't. So be cautious, my prince. Be very cautious."

Adam blinked, looking back at the house. The memory alone was enough to calm him. The power of a prince had been replaced by the physical strength of this strange body, and yet Belle had chosen to trust him. He'd told Belle it was her choice, done everything he could to make her feel safe with him, but after all those years of never having a say… she might still struggle to refuse if he brought it up. When… if things began to progress again, she needed to be the one to start it.

She was still in the cellar when he went back inside. "Belle?" he called out, his mind conjuring up every kind of accident she could have had just as quickly as it had thought of… other things. Adam hurried down the steps, relieved to find her standing in the far corner, wrapped in a spare blanket and reading a faded label on a bottle of wine. Several others had been pulled to the front of the shelf beside her.

She looked up, startled. "Oh! Sorry." She looked at the bottle and back at him, grimacing. "I was just… looking…"

She trailed off as he came beside her, reaching for the wine and holding it lightly in the palms of his hands. "Ah, a 1740 amber Pineau," he said with a touch of flamboyance. "Sweet but clean on the palate, with a delectable meeting of grape with toasted wood. Pairs perfectly with, uh…" He cleared his throat. "Berries and olives. An excellent choice."

Belle laughed softly behind her hand.

"Confiscated from the kitchens of Sir Hubert Hongnart," he continued, having a little too much fun. "Infamous owner of one hundred hideous hats."

She smiled warmly. "Confiscated is what we're calling it now?"

He nearly broke character, but managed to keep it to a smile. "Would the mademoiselle like a taste?"

"Oh, I don't know… " Belle took it back from him carefully, biting her lip. "Are you sure? This is such a rare thing. I… I shouldn't, especially after making such a fuss that time…"

"Belle." He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. "If you want to relax tonight, then relax. You deserve it."

She blushed a little, holding the Pineau against her chest. "Well… if you insist," she said, smiling.

He grinned, then reached to one of the top shelves and pulled out a small wooden crate. He slid back the lid, presenting two fine crystal sherry glasses packaged in paper.

Belle shook her head at him, eyes sparkling brighter than the glass. "I'm not even surprised by this anymore."

"Oh," he said, turning back to the shelves. "If we're having wine then we must also have cheese…"

Belle chuckled. "This is turning into a second supper."

Belle's eyes grew wide after her first sip. "Oh, oh my! I didn't realize wine could taste so good." She laughed, looking into her glass. "This could be dangerous."

Adam smiled a little, head propped up on his elbow while he reclined beside her. He wished he could treat Belle to all the truly extravagant things he'd once enjoyed and she never had. Unlike himself, she would have actually appreciated it. Deserved it.

Still, he had no desire to return to that life, even if he could take her with him. Living out here all these years, he'd discovered a predilection for the quietness of the woods, the gentle flickering of firelight in the evenings, the focus on the practical over the fashionable. No one telling him what to wear or where to go or what to say, every moment of every day. It had come with the price of regret and loneliness, but the latter at least was gone now that Belle was here with him.

Feeling warm and happy, Adam used his claw like a toothpick to skewer another olive. He popped it in his mouth, then finished off his glass and set it aside. Belle reached out to pour him another, but he waved it off. "I'm fine. You can enjoy the rest."

"Well," she said, leaning back against his chest and swirling the wine in her near-empty glass. "The problem is… I'm not sure I can."

"Oh?"

She finished her drink and set it on the floor beside his. "The room is getting… fuzzy," she said, giggling a little.

"So fast!" he cried.

"It's been a really long time since I've done this, but… yes. I suppose I don't hold it so well. Oh, this feels quite lovely, doesn't it?" She reached to pour herself another one, apparently forgetting she had just decided against it.

Adam whisked the bottle away from her. She pouted but he just chuckled, reaching around her to pick up their glasses in his other hand before standing and heading back to their little kitchen. He uncorked the large water barrel that rested there, filled up both cups, and returned to her side. "Both of those, before another one. Don't want a headache tomorrow."

"Oh," Belle said, letting her head fall sideways against him and giving him a saccharine smile. "You're sweet."

He snorted softly.

"Do you want something else?" she asked, twirling his fur around one finger. "I know this isn't enough for you."

"It's okay…" he said, distracted by what she was doing. He cleared his throat and looked back up at her. "I want you to feel comfortable."

She sat up abruptly, picked up a glass in each hand, and chugged them down one after the other like she's been stranded for a month on a desert island. Adam bit down on his lips, fighting the urge to laugh.

"I'm not worried about that anymore," she finally said, draping herself back over his chest.

He brought his arm around her, brushing her cheek with his knuckle. "Really?"

She nodded, eyes closing as she tucked her arms beneath her and snuggled deeper into his fur. "You were so cute and cuddly last time."

Adam's mouth fell open. Look who's talking!

Belle giggled, then hiccupped. Then giggled again.

"Well," he said. "Now I'm definitely not having anymore."

Adam had his head in Belle's lap, humming happily. Three empty bottles of mead sat beside their plates, which were picked nearly clean of their array of finger foods.

Belle was tracing the features of his face, intrigued by the almost imperceptible purring that rumbled from his chest when she circled his ears. His fur was so soft here, and this close she could study the different colors within it. There was far more red than she'd realized and an almost-gold that together must be what gave it that subtle amber glow on sunny days. The more obvious grays around his horns were joined by a speckling of others across his chin and the space above his lip.

She touched them with her fingertips, and Adam's eyes opened a little.

"I love you," he crooned.

Belle smiled warmly. "I love you too." She cupped his cheek in her hand. "Are you feeling all right?"

"M'hm," he mumbled, turning and nuzzling against her stomach.

"A-ha! That tickles!"

"Sorry," he said, letting his head fall back into her lap. He looked up at her with a sleepy smile. "I love you," he said again, then furrowed his brows. "Did I say that already?"

Belle swallowed a laugh, touching his brows. They relaxed as she did, and he was smiling again. "You did," she said warmly. "But I don't mind if you say it twice."

Until that moment she had never heard a giggle at a deep timbre. Lord, he was so darling like this. How was it possible that when he drank he was the complete opposite of—

"What's the matter, Belle?"

She was back in that house, huddling on the floor of a closet, a hand pressed to her mouth to muffle her breathing.

"Too kind and gentle to fight back?"

Belle should have fought against the memory, forced it back into the caverns of her consciousness, but her mind was still muddled from wine and her nightmares still not so distant, and so she was sucked back to her past before she could stop it.

It had been six months since she'd agreed not to run anymore, six tortuous months of bowing to Gaston like he was her lord and king. She'd barely been able to eat, too great was her nausea. She'd barely been able to sleep, for she was too afraid of leaving herself vulnerable. She was barely a shell of her former self. How had she lost so much, so quickly?

"Come on out and fight!" Gaston hollered, liquor and dark delight coloring his voice.

Belle dug her fingers into her scalp, her breathing quick and erratic. She had been alone in a far corner of the house, quietly hemming a dress, when the shouting began. Having no idea what was wrong, she'd hidden in the closet hoping he would eventually give up.

A sudden shattering of glass rang through the house. Her body started to quake. What game was he playing at? His threats were the reason she'd become so submissive in the first place. What did he want from her now? What should she do?!

She couldn't decide before the closet flew open and he dragged her out into the room.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, unsure why she was apologizing. "I'm sorry. Please… I don't understand…"

He hauled her to her feet, fists gripping the front of her dress and pulling painfully at her skin. "Not such a smart girl after all, are you?"

"…What?" she breathed. He wasn't making any sense. He rarely did. Maybe he was right… maybe she wasgrowing dull.

"Come on, Belle. Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

She shook her head roughly, wide-eyed and trembling in his grasp.

The fire in his eyes finally faded. "Ugh. You're a bore," he said, shoving her away and tromping back the way he'd come. "It's no wonder nobody likes you."

Belle felt like she'd taken a shot to the chest. She brought her hand there, gripping the fabric over her heart, reminded once again that she was completely alone.

Gaston stopped in the doorway with his back to her, lowering his voice. "Should've listened to my boys when they told me to forget about you."

Time stopped. The dark room seemed to tilt. Belle's fear and hurt melted away as a sudden fury ignited in her chest. Had he really destroyed her life, destroyed everything she'd once been, just to toss her away after a couple years? All the pain she'd buried in her heart leapt out in an instant. "How—" she gasped, unable to stop herself. "How dare you! "

Gaston slowly turned around. He was grinning.

"Mmph, Cesar…"

Belle blinked herself back to the present, feeling the little feline forcing his way between them. He nudged his way beneath Belle's hand where it rested on Adam's head, demanding pets.

Adam, who had since dozed off, cracked one eye open. "I was here first," he grunted, grabbing Cesar around the middle and depositing him in a puddle of blankets in front of the fire. Cesar mewed in defiance, but Adam had already turned his attention back to Belle. "You okay?" he asked, sobering a little and reaching for her hand. As he did, Belle realized it had been clenched in a tight fist.

She relaxed her fingers at once, forcing a smile. "Yes. Yes, of course," she said, not wanting to spoil his pleasant mood. But it was too late, it seemed, for he looked at her with eyes crinkled with worry. "I'm just tired," she insisted. "That's all. Truly."

He sat up out of her lap, and Belle felt she'd done something wrong until he lifted up the blankets beside him in invitation. She crawled inside, letting him wrap her completely in his arms and touch her face much like she'd just being doing to his. Cesar crept back towards them, weaving his way between them and curling up against Belle's stomach.

Belle closed her eyes, soothed by Adam's touch. She listened to Cesar's gentle purring and the crackling fire. Felt the rhythm of Adam's chest change as he fell back to sleep, his hand growing limp in her hair.

It was too good to be real, but it was. It was. I'm not in that house anymore, she reminded herself. I'm here now. I'm free.

Free? You've trapped yourself with another man!

Belle was wondering when the teenager dwelling within her mind would appear again. She stood there now, in a beautiful butter-yellow gown Belle had never seen before, arms folded over her chest and a scowl on her face.

I'm not trapped, Belle told her. I love Adam, and I want to be here.

But you've only known him a few months. Can you really trust him yet?

Listen to how he speaks to me. See how he cares for me.

Gaston also tried to impress you at first.

Belle frowned. That wasn't the same at all. Gaston's ways of impressing her were catered to his own desires with no consideration of her own. With Adam… he didn't have ulterior motives, didn't pressure her into anything. He simply made her happy, and enjoyed her as a person. He was her friend.

Y-you… you hardly know anything about his past. He was a prince! He didn't care about you then, and he only cares now because he doesn't have any other options.

Belle's heart sank a little, but she took a measured breath. No, he really loves me. He does. He said I was the one he was supposed to find… She smiled a little, remembering that night on the mountain when the truth had come out. He'd been so raw, so real. He'd meant what he said.

Do you honestly think he would choose to be with some broken-hearted peasant if he had any other choice? You're lucky the curse can't be broken. If it could, he'd leave you in a heartbeat.

An ugly feeling gnawed at her chest. This part of herself could be so terribly cruel. Please go away…

No one loves you. No one even likes you. Why would he be any different?

Belle wrapped her arms around herself, trying to squeeze the discomfort back into the caverns of her chest where it couldn't bother her so much. She knew… she knew the voice was wrong. Why then was it making her feel so terrible?

With care, she shifted out of Adam's arms, not wanting to wake him. Then she glanced at the bottle of wine sitting nearby, considering it for a long moment before reaching out and pouring the rest into her glass.

You're pathetic.

All right. That's it, Belle thought fiercely, setting the glass down and shifting so she was sitting cross-legged before the fire. She grabbed her knees, steeling herself. First of all, you need to lay off Adam. I love him and I won't tolerate you making baseless claims about him.

The girl grew pale. But I'm only trying to—

Second of all… Belle thought of what Adam had told her earlier that evening. I am not pathetic for taking a night to relax. I've been through hell, and I deserve a rest.

Relax? Rest?! the girl cried, regaining her fighting spirit and throwing out an arm. You have things to do, places to see! Time is running out!

Belle frowned. Good grief, I'm not that old…

The girl clenched her fists, her jaw. One booted foot tapped rapidly against the ground and… her eyes. They were filled with tears.

Belle's heart softened in an instant. You're scared, she realized at once. You're scared… that what happened before is going to happen again.

The girl's tension melted away. I… she began. The tears spilled out slowly at first, then quickly, thin streams flowing down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. I have s-so many dreams, and you… you haven't lived any of them, she said, choking on her words. What's the point of my life if you're not even living it?

Everything this voice had tried to convince her to do, its harsh and unrelenting criticisms… finally, it made sense. For the first time, Belle looked at her younger self and understood her. Yes, she was arrogant, stubborn, and quick to judge, but she was also bright and fearless, unafraid to be herself, brimming with hopes and dreams… dreams that had been crushed into dust. How badly that must have hurt her. How frightened she must feel having no control over her own future.

Belle imagined taking her hand. The girl looked away, squeezing her eyes shut.

I've had some adventures already, Belle told her gently. I… I protected our village, all alone. I survived and escaped my captor. I've traveled to the top of a mountain where few have stepped foot, overlooked the valleys and forests blanketed with snow, the stars glimmering in all of their splendor…

Young Belle looked at her, eyes wide. I guess that's true…

And I've found love. Didn't you dream of that once too?

The girl shrugged a bit reluctantly.

It's a new love, and nothing is for certain, but… there's so much I still have to learn about him. So much we still have to experience together. Belle brought a hand to her heart, feeling it beat beneath her chest. Not the rapid, nervous beatings that she'd grown so used to… but a strong, steady drumming that filled her with warmth and hope. Things are just beginning. I'm taking a season to heal, and the adventures are starting a little later than you wanted, but… there's still plenty of time. And I haven't forgotten about you.

The girl sniffed, looking away and absently rearranging her skirts.

That's a beautiful gown. Going somewhere fun?

And, for the first time in years, the girl in her mind smiled. Just a little. Well, there was this dance…

Go on, then, Belle said, squeezing her hand. I'll be all right.