"Damn these fangs."

Belle smiled, kissing the corner of his pout. "Mmm, I don't mind," she hummed.

"Belle…" Adam growled. His hold on her tightened, then loosened as he exhaled sharply. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

Belle grinned. She knew exactly what she was doing. "It's quite cold… should we go home?" she asked sweetly.

Adam pulled back, looking her straight in the eyes for a long, knowing moment. Then without warning, he hoisted her into a bridal carry and took an about-face towards the path. "Yes."

He barreled down the mountain, causing Belle to cry out in delighted fright as they slid down icy cliff sides and leapt over fallen trees.

They reached the house in far too little time by her judgment. Adam pulled open the door with a grand sweep only to find Cesar sitting on the threshold, tail brushing the floor in greeting. Adam stepped inside, picked him up with his free hand, and plopped him in the snow unceremoniously. The door swung shut behind them.

"So cruel," Belle chided him.

"He'll be fine."

Cesar mewed once in protest, but gave up quickly in search of a nocturnal snack. And then, all at once, it was very quiet. And very dark.

Adam breathed out, ragged and deep, breaking the stillness. He set Belle down slowly to her feet. "So…" he began. He swallowed, paws brushing down her arms, then back up. "Were you truly just… cold?"

"No."

Without the fire, it was just chilly enough to see his breath, billowing in streaks of moonlight. He crouched down, slowly, paws sliding down to grasp her hands. He stared at her for a long moment, his face shadowed. Could he see in the dark? She'd never asked.

"Belle." He touched her face, more softly than should have been possible. "What I… am. You are sure?"

She reached out blindly and found him close, cheeks soft against her palms. "Quite sure."

She could hear him breathing, feel the heat of each exhale until he kissed her again, cautiously, as though he was still learning how. She felt his claws slowly threading into her hair, his hand around hers gently beckoning her closer. Belle let it, pressing herself against his warmth. She wanted to bury herself in it, bathe in it.

Adam moved to her jaw, and she let her head fall weakly into the cradle of his giant hand. He caught her earlobe lightly between his tongue and fang, and she could barely comprehend it before he was tasting the length of her neck. Belle's breath grew hollow as she gripped the fur at his shoulders, feeling a pleasant knot beginning to weave in and out of itself in a place that had only ever before known pain.

He reached the little hollow of her collarbone, lingering at the barrier of clothing. "Do you wish… to keep… all this on?" he said hotly, as breathless as she was.

Belle must have been wearing a half dozen layers. Perhaps that why she was suddenly felt like she was burning alive. "I do not," she managed. Her fingers reached for the tie of her cloak, unfastening its small knot before they were trembling far too greatly to manage anything else.

"Let me help," Adam pled from the darkness.

Belle blushed, heart beating so fast she thought it might run off without her. "All right. But I'm keeping my socks on."

He laughed softly, even as his own fingers trembled against her collar. "Only your socks?" he whispered.

They chuckled together in the darkness, his nerves dancing around hers in the shadows. He helped her pull off his borrowed shirts, an impatient rumble emerging from his chest as he was thwarted by the delicate buttons of her dress. Belle took over again as he swiftly tugged off his cloak.

At last, the extra layers tumbled to the floor and he was holding her again, touching her through nothing but the thin lace of her chemise. So gently he brushed the sleeve off her shoulder, so softly he kissed her skin. His touch… she had never felt such tenderness. She had never even imagined it existed in this world. And to think he could manage it with such a form; it seemed impossible.

Her sleeve fell to her elbow and he ventured lower, his mouth brushing once along the top of her breast. Belle gasped.

He pulled back. "Should I stop?" he asked. His eyes were so bright in the darkness.

The knot inside swelled. "No."

He gathered her into his arms again, crossed the room in two strides, and laid her slowly on their makeshift bed. And then he stopped, a great form balanced over her.

"I love you," he breathed, and she knew he did.

"I love…"

He found her breast again, and words became impossible. His tongue dipped low, circling beneath and above and everywhere but where she suddenly wished it to be. There were soft sounds escaping her, sounds she had never made. Adam responded with a deep rumbling of his own.

So this is what it feels like, she thought, and suddenly nothing else mattered, nothing else existed but this warm, soft, secret place.

"So beautiful…" Adam hummed. And at that, the illusion burst.

Old, ugly feelings swelled in her gut, clawing at that pleasant knot. That word… her own name.

He pulled her chemise down further. "Oh, my Belle…"

My little wife.

She froze. She tried to speak, but she was bathed in a sudden, freezing fear. Wait…

He stopped, though she hadn't spoken. "Belle?"

She tried to swallow, failed, and tried again. "I…" she managed, feeling faint.

He moved off her quickly, tugging a blanket up to her shoulders before gripping her hand. "Are you well?"

She wasn't, and somehow he'd known. Belle closed her eyes, feeling the softness of his blanket, the warmth of their fire. The rough pads of his fingers in her palm. Slowly, she found it easier to breathe again.

"I'm sorry," she said at last. "I didn't... I was fine, but then…"

"I went too fast."

He sounded heartbroken. Belle opened her eyes to see his, wide with worry. "I practically begged you too," she said.

He frowned. "Something I did, then."

"No." Something you said. Something any normal woman would have loved. She felt too foolish to explain it to him now. "Just… me," she said instead, wanting to cry. Would she never be able to have this? "I'm so sorry…"

He gripped her hand, shook his head. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"But… you must want this."

He reached for her face then, but stopped. Belle pulled his hand to her cheek to reassure him. Curse her foolish fears; already, she was driving him away.

"I… well, of course I want it," he confessed, and a beat later he looked away. "I want to be close to you in every possible way. But not if it means…" He frowned deeply. "You will not be hurt here."

She knew that… hadn't she known that? Why then had she grown so afraid?

He caressed her cheek once. She closed her eyes, "But I want it too," she moaned, that knot inside now a tangled, irritable mess. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," he said firmly. "Nothing is wrong with you. In fact, maybe you just came to your senses about… this." He swept a dramatic hand across himself.

Belle finally smiled. "No, that's not it," she said, feeling her blush deepen. In fact, it was quite the opposite. She wasn't sure what such a preference said about her, but she'd previously decided that since there was nobody here to stop her there was no need to fret about it.

Adam was rubbing the back of his neck, looking away but smiling all the same. Then he rolled over, stood, and went to retrieve some wood for the fire. Belle sat slowly herself, pulling her chemise back over her shoulders before resting folded arms atop her knees. She watched as Adam crouched before the hearth, arranging the logs in the way she had taught him. Had he really only minutes ago been…

She shivered, wanting him close again.

Adam used a claw to strike the flint, watching as the spark slowly built into flames. Then his paw was at the back of his neck again, his breathing measured and heavy. He turned back to her with a nervous smile.

She reached for his hand, and he let her pull him back down beside her.

Her fears were all but forgotten now. How easily they melted away when he held her in his arms. And how strange, too; Gaston's strength had terrorized her, and yet here she was in the embrace of one far more powerful feeling safer than she'd ever felt before.

He'd stopped. He'd known. She hadn't been hurt, and any fear that lingered had suddenly vanished. This was new—this place where she could hide, where the world and its cruel talons couldn't reach her. And, oh, how gentle he had been. She'd of known of course that not all men were violent, but she'd hadn't realized just how very tender they could be.

"There's… n-no rush," Adam stammered suddenly. He sucked in another deep, measured breath. "And… if you finally come to your senses about me, you can change your mind then too."

"I won't. No," Belle said, amused at just how far that was from her thoughts. She grew warm again, lowering her voice. "I've never felt anything like that."

He pulled back to look at her, a strange look flashing in his eyes. But before she could make any sense of it, he'd pulled her close again. "Oh, Belle," he said, warmth in his voice. "That was nothing."

It would be a lie to say that Adam didn't dream of Belle's perfect bosom all night long.

He lay awake that morning for a solid hour trying to determine whether last night had been real. He had, embarrassingly, dreamt of her more than once before now, but it had never been so wonderfully vivid.

Surely it couldn't have happened, he thought lazily, knowing it had.

He watched, too love-drunk to move, as Cesar struggled to squeeze himself between the window panes. The little feline finally succeeded, picking his way around the clothes strewn across the floor. That, and the fact that Belle was sleeping in nothing but her chemise, should have been enough to convince him. Still, Adam was tempted to reach out and poke her shoulder just to make sure he wasn't still having a sleepy fantasy. But that would be very childish.

He turned and poked Cesar instead, who mewed in annoyance and escaped to Belle's side.

Adam felt like he was going to burst. A whole winter together… a whole life together?

She'll leave you come spring, the prince said quietly.

Adam opened his eyes. He had almost forgotten about his juvenile subconscious. I don't think so, he thought back, feeling far too cheerful to let anything sour his mood.

Something will happen. Something will take her away.

Adam rolled to his side, smiling at Belle's sleeping face. Bugger off.

The prince said nothing, retreating back into the shadows.

Adam's thoughts returned to the night before—for where else could they go?—remembering every inch he'd been allowed of her perfect form, every beautiful sound from her lips, the way her heart beat quicker with arousal…

…before racing with fear.

His pleasant feelings dimmed as he thought of how still Belle had grown in that moment. He'd been able to smell the fear on her skin. But she hadn't spoken out—did she know she could? The thought pained him. And what if he hadn't noticed her distress?

That thought terrified him.

He sat up. I must convince her to speak freely, he decided, setting a determined fist in his palm. And he would have to be very, very careful.

They barely left the house that day. The daily chores lay neglected as they sat in their small, warm space— and talked.

Well, talked was perhaps a generous way of putting it. For this talking involved quite a lot of kissing and a nearly uninterrupted stream of caressing. How could they not as they shared the armchair for the first time, Belle curled up in his lap in her chemise, his blouse abandoned at her insistence that You're warmer this way and besides, it's only fair. Belle's heart was in a constant flutter, which was only worsened by the way Adam couldn't stop beaming at her.

The words they did speak were so soft and so free, even freer than they'd been before. For now they weren't restricted to stories the past, but could touch that bright, new future that they would now create together. It seemed that things could now be laid bare in more ways than one.

Adam held her ankle between his fingers now, brushing feather-light circles over the skin with his thumb. It sent a heat pooling into her toes, and her thoughts to the night before. The memory filled her with great warmth… and embarrassment. She had truly spoiled something wonderful, hadn't she? Yet she'd sensed no such feeling from Adam, who'd been brimming with nothing but smiles all morning. And though he didn't speak of it aloud, it was quite evident from the way he watched her that he was thinking of it too.

Eventually, however, Bonne came bellowing down the mountain at them and they were forced to attend to all the daily tasks required of those dwelling in the mountains. So they dressed, laughing and blushing at their mutual reluctance to do so. And as Belle stepped out the door to head towards the outhouse she found herself lifted off her feet

"I've missed this," he grinned, cradling her in his arms and plodding down the familiar path.

Belle recalled those first weeks spent here, when Adam was still her mysterious caretaker. She smiled. "If you never let me walk, my love, I may forget how."

Adam's step faltered at the endearment. "I-I suppose," he said, the insides of his ears growing red. Then he stopped, and pressed his head to hers as he pulled her close. "But today… I can barely stand to be apart from you."

The prince awoke to a pounding headache. He sat up, untangling himself from the sheets before swinging his bare legs over the side of the bed.

A ray of sun pierced through a slit in the curtains, blinding him. He squinted, rubbing his temples.

His companion stirred behind him, but didn't wake. Adam threaded his fingers through his tangled hair, sweeping it out of his eyes and frowning at the large, ornate room.

A reflection stared back at him. The prince, sitting within a grand mirror, naked and ruffled and grimacing back at him. His face was a mess of paint, smudged into a half-grin that belied the scowl beneath.

His bed-mate stirred again, humming lightly. "Good morning, Your Grace," flitted a gentle voice. Fingers touched his back, her hand brushing around to his stomach.

Adam stared at the prince for another moment, then reached for the hand. Her fingers were soft, manicured and untouched by toil. His memory of the night was blurred, distant, but he was fairly certain it had been enjoyable.

He felt no joy now. Only emptiness, laid bare before this stranger in more ways than one.

He considered squeezing that hand, or threading his fingers between hers. Instead he let go. "My servants will attend you," he said, pulling on a robe without a backwards glance.

When he reached the door, he paused, guilt turning momentarily in his gut. Something more than guilt, maybe. A longing. He shook it away, leaving the room and moving quickly down the hall. He was not ignorant to their true intentions, nor they to his. They fought for a prize wrapped in royalty and power. And he accepted the escape; it was the only one he had.

He stood in his father's office now— even after all this time, he didn't think of it as his own. A hundred papers sat piled atop the desk, treaties and pleading requests from the local lords for something or other. He was supposed to be serving these people, but why? It was because of them he was stuck with this mess. Because of them he was alone.

Let them fend for themselves, he thought. After all, his mother had tried to help them, and look where that got her.

He pushed open the window, letting the breeze rush in. Adam closed his eyes, breathing it in, pretending for a moment he was somewhere far, far away from here. Running through dusty foreign streets, clashing with the local law... meeting someone who wasn't simply after his power.

"Well! Lady Marguerite certainly seems in good spirits. Put some of my tips to work, no?"

Adam deflated, returning to the present. Still, he gave Lumiere a small smile as he turned, to which the man laughed full-heartedly. He sauntered over, dropping casually into the chair across from Adam and leaning forward with a conspiring grin. "Shall we invite her to join you for dinner this evening, Your Grace?"

Adam's smile faded. "No. Don't bother."

Lumiere cocked his head. "Not her either, my prince?" He frowned, as though personally injured by Adam's rejection. "Has not one of these young ladies caught your eye?"

"They serve their purpose, and then they leave." The words were filth on his tongue. "They seem pleased enough."

"They do…" Lumiere's frown grew deeper. He brought a hand to his chin. "But it seems you don't, at least not for very long."

Adam grit his teeth, turning away. God, how he hated himself.

"Perhaps you would find greater happiness if you formed an attachment?" His despair was gone at once, and sparks seemed to shine in his eyes as he went on. "My Plumette and I, ah! The way she makes me feel… the beating of my heart… the very touch of her skin and I melt, truly. I swear it on my life."

Adam rolled his eyes.

"Oh, and the love we create together, sacré dieu!" he went on, quite oblivious to his audience now. "I know I should not say… but if I could say…"

Adam coughed, and raised a hand to stop him, preferring very much that he did not say. Advice was one thing—but he could certainly live without knowing the details of Lumiere's own escapades.

Lumiere had the decency to look sheepish for a moment. Then he sobered once again, and moved around the desk to Adam's side. "My prince, you've lost much. I know," he said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps... perhaps you fear this loss will repeat itself?"

And then that feeling he'd tucked away was back, guilt and longing and loneliness ramming into him like the kick of a horse to his chest. Adam's fingers curled tightly on arms of his chair.

"It's risky to love, yes… but worth it, don't you think?"

There was a stinging behind his eyes now. Adam blinked once, trembling. "I don't need this," he spat, breathless. He threw out an angry hand, knocking Lumiere's arm away and rising to his feet. "Not from you."

The man withdrew, looking at him like he was some sad, lonely child and not his goddam prince.

Adam seethed. "You're— what are you, anyway? A footman? A fucking footman, trying to tell me what to do?" He laughed, but felt nothing but pain. "What could you possibly know about this?"

All the grandeur that made Lumiere himself was gone. He looked hurt. "Your Grace…"

The prince looked away, and snarled. "Get out of my sight."

"Adam…"

"Get OUT!" he roared. He snatched the closest object— an old, tarnished candelabra— and hurled it with all his might.

It smashed into the shelves to Lumiere's right. He hadn't really wanted to hit him anyway.

Lumiere straightened, lowering his hands where they'd gone to protect his face. He stared at Adam then, eyes wide and sad. Then he bowed, and left his prince in silence.

As the door shut, Adam's eyes grew hot and wet. He grit his teeth, and swept everything piled atop his desk to the floor. He kicked over his chair, tore down his curtains, tore all the books from their shelves. Tasted the salt of his stupid tears.

And screamed.

"Then they flew off on the magic carpet and lived happily ever after."

Belle listened quietly as she milked Bonne, but he didn't continue. "What? Is that all?" she exclaimed. "Come now, what kind of ending is that?"

"Fine, fine," Adam said. He scooped up a large handful of hay and wrapped a long strand of twine around it, the end in his teeth as he attempted a messy knot. "They, uh… honeymooned for a fortnight, had a dozen rowdy children, grew old and fat together, then lived happily ever—"

"No, no, no," Belle said, wiping her hands on her apron and rising to her feet. "Where else did they go? They had a magic carpet, for goodness sake!"

Adam looked amused. "Do you want to finish the story instead?"

She gave him a face, and he laughed. "You know," she said. "It would have saved a whole lot of trouble he'd just told Jasmine the truth in the first place."

Adam froze, then slowly set down the bundle in his hands. The knot loosened, leaving a pile of hay exactly as he'd found it, but he didn't seem to notice. "He was afraid she'd think less of him," he said quietly.

Belle cocked her head at him. "Do you think less of me because I'm common?"

"I—what? No, of course not," he said, looking confused. He turned away, frowning deeply. "That's not what I meant…"

"But shouldn't he want her to love the real him?"

Adam grimaced. Then he looked towards the door, chewing roughly on the corner of his lip.

Now Belle was confused. "Adam?"

"What if it was reversed," he said suddenly.

She blinked. "What?"

"You know…" he said slowly. He looked back at her now, eyes dark and intent. "What if, instead, Aladdin really was a prince but pretended not to be? Would it have mattered that he didn't tell her?"

Belle raised a brow. "Why in the world would he do that?"

Adam looked incredibly uncomfortable. He sucked in a long breath, grit his teeth. "Just don't… don't freak out," he finally said.

Belle stood, perplexed, until the pieces started slowly falling together. She shook her head, laughing nervously. "You're teasing me again."

"Unfortunately, no."

"I'm not going to fall for it this time," Belle declared, wagging a finger at him.

"Belle…" He took a step closer, and a very deep breath. "I'm serious."

She studied his face for a very long moment, then felt the blood seep out of her own. "Oh my God… Oh my God!"

"Please don't freak out!"

His warning came far too late. Belle's hands were pressed to her cheeks as she stared at him, her mouth moving but no words coming out.

"Ah, see?" he pouted. "You do think differently of me now."

"N-no! No," she said, shaking her hands in front of her. Then she pulled them back, covering her cheeks once again and looking away. "Ah… a little. I'm sorry, I just hadn't imagined…" She shook her head quickly, finally looking back at him. "You said you were a noble of sorts. I thought you were a knight or something..."

Adam grinned. "A knight? How gallant."

"I don't know! Not a prince! Oh, dear," she said, flustered, pressing her fingers to her temples. "B-but this… this makes no sense. I would have known of you."

He sobered again, and grimaced. "The, uh… spell made everyone forget us."

Belle just stared at him. "You can't be serious."

Adam shrugged. Belle pressed her palms to the sides of her face, staring at her feet and trying not to completely lose her mind.

She felt his hands on hers, pulling them from her face. "Belle, it's still me," he said, their hands linked across Bonne's back. "Your big, hairy beau."

She gave out a short laugh. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just… ever so embarrassed."

"Why?"

"I've been so forward with you! I've… we've…" She blushed furiously. "I simply cannot wrap my head around it."

"Of all the things about me, this is the first to truly bother you?"

She laughed again. He had a point.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more forthright," he went on. "I suppose I was embarrassed too. I always felt I was born into the wrong life." He looked absently at the wall behind her, frowning. "I probably should have been grateful for what I had, but I only ever felt… trapped."

Belle's eyes grew wider. That, she could understand.

"But it doesn't… mean anything," he said quickly, looking back. "I hold no power or… or anything over you. Over anyone."

Belle rested a hand on the back of her neck, feeling shy. Feeling unsure.

"I don't. Please, I never want you to feel like you have to…" He stopped, pursed his lips, and gently squeezed her hands. "I love what we have. I've never felt this way about anyone."

Belle felt her heart flutter.

"Can't it stay the same as it was?"

She looked back at him. He looked so terribly worried that she found herself biting back a smile. It was still Adam; of course it was. Princes, as it turned out, were real people too.

"Of course it can stay the same," she said. He visibly relaxed, and Belle smiled. "But," she went on, "just so we're clear, are there any more upcoming revelations I should know about?"

"Well," he said. He gave her a lopsided smile. "I will, unfortunately, shed in the spring time."

It was the darkest part of the night, and Belle was awake. The fire had grown low, a red glow swelling out, then retreating. She watched it absently, feeling as though she had stumbled into someone else's fairy tale.

Perhaps she really had lost her mind. A nobleman was one thing, but a prince? She didn't think Adam was lying, but did a quiet investigation on her own just in case he'd actually lost a little of his own mind. But as hard as she tried, she couldn't really remember who had been their ruler prior to the last decade—and the more she thought about it the fuzzier her memories grew. This certainly wasn't comforting, but it did help to convince her. That, alongside her discovery that the family crest decorating her chest of books matched the royal symbol in one of its thickest tomes. She was a bit abashed she hadn't put two-and-two together earlier.

Though of course… she had been a little distracted.

Belle stared at the flames again, feeling their pulse in her cheeks, her breast… that secret place so recently awakened. She closed her eyes, remembering. Her body ached for his touch, unable to rest, having brushed against its own hidden magic and now very impatient to discover the full extent. Belle herself was quite in agreement, for she trusted that Adam wouldn't harm her. And yet… could she trust herself not to mess everything up again?

Belle sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, rolling over and pressing her face into her pillow to hide a grunt of frustration.

A warmth drew near. "Are you awake?" Adam asked softly.

Belle looked up to see his eyes, catching the fire's gentle glow. "Mmm," she managed.

"What are you thinking about?"

She breathed deeply. "Nothing."

He drew closer, curling up around her and resting his head against her own. They laid quietly together, listening to the crackling fire. Belle wondered if he would try again. She considered, nervously, starting something again herself.

"Belle."

"Yes?" she breathed.

He didn't answer right away, but picked up the end of one lock of her hair. Rubbed it between his fingers, dropped it again. "I did something wrong the other night," he said at last. He took a breath, and looked her in the eyes. "Won't you tell me?"

Shame sunk its teeth into Belle's hopes, sucking them dry. She looked away. "It was nothing. It shouldn't have bothered me."

"But it did," he pressed. "Please, Belle. I don't want to do it again."

She closed her eyes tight, feeling so incredibly in love and yet so terribly afraid. "I…"

She stopped. He reached for her hand, and waited.

"You called me… beautiful," she began slowly. Adam looked surprised. "He called me that all the time," she explained. "I know, it's silly. What kind of woman complains about being beautiful? I must sound so arrogant."

"No. I understand." The way he said it seemed to suggest he truly did. "What else?"

"You called me yours," she said more softly. "He claimed me constantly. I know you don't mean it the same way, I know, it just…"

He nodded slowly. "Anything else? Anything I shouldn't do?"

"Maybe?" She frowned. "I'm not sure, yet."

He hummed. Ran his fingers through the length of her hair. "You can tell me, next time. When you're scared."

Belle shook her head. "I can't. I mean, I did try," she said quickly, for he'd started to protest. "But my throat, it…" She swallowed against a phantom dryness, reaching absently to touch her neck.

Adam was very quiet. She could feel the heavy beat of his heart against her. "You could not refuse before," he said.

Her eyes at once were full of tears. She grit her teeth, fighting it as long as she could, but it wasn't any use. And so she shook her head roughly, clasping a hand to her mouth and burying her face in his arm. Adam surrounded her in his embrace, close but not close enough. If she could just fold in on herself tighter, just a bit tighter… maybe that deep, tugging ache inside would finally be crushed. Adam sensed this, he must have, for he held her that much closer as she buried her hands in his fur and gripped so hard she would later worry she had hurt him. But she didn't realize that now, overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of moisture spilling out of her eyes. Had she not shed enough tears over this already? Were they simply endless?

But this helps, she remembered as they slowed from a heavy deluge to a gentle stream. When she cried in this home, in his arms, she felt so much relief.

Adam didn't speak—what could the poor man say? Yet that bitterly sweet feeling was prompting her to share more. And so she spoke of that first night of her sham of a marriage, which released new tears, his heavy hands petting her hair. And then another, the details of each erratic and blurred, tearing at her heart one second before slipping out the cracks in the walls the next and escaping into the night air. Adam never let her go, whispering things like, "You're safe here," or "That will never happen again."

Or a deep and aching, "I should have been there for you."

By the time he said it, Belle was breathing easily, feeling a strange and unexpected peace. "You're here for me now," she answered softly.

Adam sucked in a sharp breath, limbs trembling around her. "Always, Belle," he whispered. "Always."

The next morning, Adam awoke early. His head ached. His limbs were restless. He got up quietly, as he was accustomed to, and stepped into the bitter morning air.

Somewhere, a bird was chirping. He scowled, heading down one of his well-worn trails towards the western side of the mountain. The woods were thickest here, dark and isolated. Adam abandoned the main trail and found another, mostly grown over, leading into its depths.

A quarter hour passed before he reached his destination. An open patch, not made by nature's hand but his own. After all these years his claw marks still scarred the trees, but the broken branches had since sprouted new growth and clumps of new life poked out of the heavy snow.

Adam looked at it and felt ashamed. He looked at the sky, bright blue when it really should have been stormy considering his mood, then sat down on an old log at the center of the clearing with a sigh. He came here because this was where he always used to go when he was angry. But now that he was here, he realized he didn't actually feel like lashing out at anything.

He let his head fall forward, closing his eyes. He remembered holding Belle as close as he could, wishing he could soak up all the horror she'd experienced into himself. He'd do it in a heartbeat; he'd take it all. But it was something he'd failed to prevent and something he could never fix.

Was it my fault?

Adam saw the prince in his mind yet again, but he was younger now—truly a boy. Adam thought about what he said, unsure if the child was talking about Belle, or about his family.

No. It wasn't your fault.

The boy grit his teeth. Tears pooled in his eyes. I'm so angry! he gasped, clenching his fists.

Adam recalled the feeling vividly, a curse of its own that had followed him all his life. But looking at the child in his mind's eye, he wondered if either of them were truly angry at all.

That's okay, he told his young self.

The boy blinked. His body relaxed, just a little. It is?

Why not? He'd fought his anger for so long, but that only ever made things worse. And today, when he'd come here planning to tear something apart, he could finally see what was hiding beneath it all—sorrow, deep and real, as he ached for someone dear to him.

Maybe he'd known how to love all along.

The child in his mind began to fade, tears spilling down his cheeks. They spilled down Adam's too as he sat in that wooded clearing and cried for the woman he loved.

He was rubbing his eyes dry with the back of his arm when a low bell rung out from the trees. Adam looked up to find Bonne, staring at him where she stood while casually chewing. He sighed, sniffed, and stood with a grunt. "Well then, come on," he told her, waving her back the way he'd come.

The trees were spotted with little birds now, their songs dancing happily over the silent snow that sparkled under the morning sun. Bonne's bell seemed to ring in time as she plodded happily along ahead of him, and Adam sighed in defeat. It really was a beautiful day, his mood be damned. And suddenly, his mood changed too as his chest swelled with a sudden determination. Belle's life could still be beautiful, too; her past a long, dark night finally banished for good. She need never feel hurt or scared again, he'd make sure of it. He just had to fill her life up with so much happiness that her past would feel like nothing but an old, forgotten nightmare.

Just thinking about it made him miss her, though he'd been gone but an hour. So he sprinted the last quarter mile to the house, sucked in a breath, and stepped quietly inside.

The room was bright, the furs folded carefully beside the fire, the air warm as something cooked atop the stove. Belle stood stirring it, humming to herself, a little bluebird whistling along with her as it sat perched along the windowsill.

As he shut the door behind him, she looked his way and smiled. "Good morning!"

At that, Adam crossed the room in two great strides and wrapped her in an embrace.

Belle's laugh was muffled against him, and he hugged her for several more moments before letting her go. "What was that for?" she asked warmly.

"Nothing. How are you feeling?"

"Better." She sucked in a breath. "So much better. It's like I've been dragging this great weight around for years but suddenly… it's gone. At least, for today."

And at last, he smiled too. "Good."