It was the first time in years that someone combed his hair with a brush. His hair, not his fur, because he was a man now. The thought of it still made him giddy and excited beyond belief. Things that should've been normal and expected were a wonderful novelty. His hair was being brushed. A smile bloomed on his face, genuine and sweet.
"Happy are we, master?" Lumiere asked as he carefully untangled the princes' hair.
Adam looked down, self-conscious now that he was no longer a horrible and enormous beast, now that everyone could see his vulnerable flesh.
"Yes," he admitted anyway, feeling bold in his honesty. His hair was still soft and lush and the feeling of the brush was divine against his scalp. Despite being a candelabra for ten years, Lumiere hadn't lost his touch, he was as gentle as ever and the prince did not feel one hair pull and hurt. Well, he did feel a few, but he wasn't going to complain about it, much less let the servant know about it.
Adam couldn't stop marveling at himself. The delicacy of his fingers, his soft nails, his round skull. That was mighty strange thought. He'd not told anyone about it but the lack of tail and horns left him feeling off balance and empty at times, like something was terribly wrong and missing. But he knew those were ridiculous things to ponder on and nobody's concern but his own.
He looked into the mirror in front of him, something he'd avoided like the plague while the curse had its caws deep inside him. He did so hesitantly, still expecting to see the beast, but when he braved the reflection, it was only him. Pale and normal and human.
He was still very much a beautiful man. The corner of his lips raised naturally at the thought. Then his world froze in a moment and his face fell. The prince sucked in a silent breath.
"Master?" Lumiere stopped immediately. "Did I pull-?"
"No," he was quick to say. Voice harsh, like it tended to default to. "No, Lumiere," he said more softly now, consciously. "You did nothing wrong."
The servant hesitated a moment, by now the man knew the prince far too well. Their relationship was stilled though, for returning to themselves had left them all wrong footed in one way or another. So where Lumiere usually would've pushed for more information, he said nothing. Adam was glad.
Once Lumiere left, Adam took in a deep breath and let out an equally long sigh. He appreciated being left alone for a while so he could muse quietly and uninterrupted upon his thoughts.
For some inexplicable reason, the prince had thought his vanity would've disappeared once the curse was broken. He'd been obviously mistaken. Wasn't that the whole point? That he be enchanted because he was cruel and heartless and vain? But he'd gotten better, he wasn't cruel or heartless anymore, he'd learned, that was the whole point right? Then why was he still vain? Why had the thought of his beauty still made him sweet with pride and contentment?
Adam couldn't tell the others about this. Surly they'd fear they'd be cursed again for his shortcomings and they'd flee the castle before it could be sprung upon them. He… He couldn't bear the thought of being alone and horrid for another ten years.
But Belle, maybe Belle would stay with him. She loved him after all, she was too good to him and… And she deserved better than to be trapped in a dull, dank, and dark place like this for the rest of her life. The whole world should be hers and she should be allowed to fly as high as she desired.
'Oh stop it,' he told himself, rolling his eyes at such dreadful thoughts. Not all was in vain, he could still get better, he could learn. Now that was the whole point of it. And he could still do it, curse or no curse on him.
He risked a look again at his handsome features and then glanced away. He could learn not to be vain for sure.
Thoughts of vanity and beauty had plagued his thoughts for the days to come. Prince Adam was still unsure as to how to proceed, what counted as selfishness and vanity? What was too much of a sin? Despite how complicated it seemed to him, he supposed it was rather simple, if it made him feel beautiful, then it was a vanity. Clothes excluded for everyone expected him to dress to his station, he couldn't lumber the castle in rags again of course.
Some days later, as he re-explored his bathroom, shining and polished to reflection, he took stock of the objects and utilities. His gaze was drawn down to the table of his ornate and golden vanity. His green-blue eyes widened with recognition.
His paints. His paints! Oh, they were such lovely shades of blue and gold. It'd been ages since someone last painted his face. He touched the edge of the glass containers, crystalline and perfect. A second later, he pulled his hand away as if burned.
No, this was not him anymore, these beautiful things were not meant for him. He was a new man. Someone who tried his best not to be cruel or selfish and who very much had a heart in him. He was trying not to be vain but… His eyes drew back to the powdered colors. Oh, they were so lovely.
Suddenly, his anxiety rose inside of him as he looked around him in search of a servant or his beloved. He was alone though. Belle was having a walk with her father and no one was minding him at the moment. His eyes drew down again and his heart fluttered at the thought of doing something he shouldn't.
'Surly, no one would notice if I clean up fast enough?' He thought guiltily, eying the soft brushes and rich colors. He shuddered out a breath, succumbing to the urge.
"Just a couple of strokes, then I'll just wash up and no one will be the wiser," he murmured to himself. Suppressing a guilty smile that was trying to creep onto his lips.
He was used to being painted on, though he had painted himself on occasion too, in this, he was not wholly incompetent or dependable on others. But that had been years ago, he probably wouldn't be any good at it now, like Lumiere couldn't help but to tug a little at his hair or Cadenza struggled to hit the notes of the clavichord with the grace he used to possess. They were all going through their own adjustments it seemed.
Tentatively and delicately he took a brush between his fingers, too used to breaking what he touched to do things any other way. He pressed it carefully over the fine pounder, it was still fresh and uncracked by time. Like everything else in the castle, it seemed not a day had passed since the curse had been placed upon them, be it people or things. The prince swatched a small amount up and smiled at the color on the bristles of the brush. Blue, his favorite.
He put the brush over his eyelid and gently dabbed it outwards. He looked. It was just a faint line, but it made the smile on his face stay.
He took more blue into the brush, then another shade of blue. Then a spot of white. Then gold, of course gold, nothing went better with blue than gold. And a few brushstrokes became 10, then 20, then he didn't know how much time he'd been focusing on just one eye. He was just enjoying himself so much.
A scuff of shoes reached his ears. Adam jumped back, hitting the vanity, eyes flying towards the bathroom door in search of the intrusion. When had the door opened? Why hadn't he heard?
"Master," Lumiere announced himself with a smile. His eyes fell at once to the right side of Adam's face, which was painted by spiky swirls of powdered color.
The prince inhaled sharply, turning his back to the other and hiding the half of his face with a hand. Heat raised up to his cheeks making him burn with shame.
Why had he done this? He knew this was not him anymore. Why then had he succumbed to his vanity so quickly? What a weak man he was.
Lumiere rushed to the prince, leaving all sense of recently acquired propriety behind as he reached for Adam's face. "What is it? What is it? Are you hurt? What happened?" the servant asked, his words a river of concern at the abrupt movement of the prince. Surely, that could only mean he'd hurt himself. Recently, the newly restored staff of the castle had begun to realize they had to be careful with their bodies again, there was no more magic spell to protect them against natural hurts. After all, despite the curse's effects, it had kept them all in prime condition. Falls or rough handling had not damaged them terribly much.
"Come, lift your face, mon ami," Lumiere said in a soothing voice, but the prince would not allow his face to be moved nor did he take away his hand from over his right eye.
He was so weak willed. His father had said so too, long ago. 'Stupid, stupid,' he chastised himself. And his servant's kindness was not helping, it only reminded Adam of when he'd been little and less of a prick to all the wonderful people who lived in the castle. This was just how Lumiere had been with him after a scraped knee or a fright.
The prince gathered some courage to himself; he was no longer this man, he could afford to have some backbone now and take accountability for his actions. He finally let Lumiere lift up his face and, to his continued embarrassment, he had to lower his covering hand.
The servant spent a moment trying to find upon his face whatever had instilled that reaction in Prince Adam, but Lumiere saw nothing wrong, not even a red eye to account for if the prince had accidentally gotten the brush in. The prince took a breath then and looked at the man's face.
"Master? Whatever is wrong?" Lumiere asked, his lord's face was sullen.
The prince sighed, Luimere was too kind to him not to point out the obvious.
"Take this off my face," he said instead, the words like ash on his tongue.
"Ah, but you did such a lovely job!" The servant praised with a bright, earnest smile.
"Please, Lumiere," the prince avoided his friend's eyes, dejected.
"Of course, master," the older man conceded. Still readjusting to their old and new dynamics, pushing and pulling. Not yet pushing too much with the brashfulness he had acquired as a candelabra.
With a gentle hand holding his chin, Lumiere dabbed away with a wet cloth at the colorful swirls on the prince's right eye. They were quiet and the air around them was stilled. The scene was reminis of a little boy being cleaned up after play time, perhaps chastised for getting dirty in the mud.
"I'm sorry," the prince said after a while. Lumiere hummed in response, immersed in his task. "I know I should know better now, I do," he looked up to his friend, who had stopped to observe the prince. The servant had a confused furrow between his brows.
"I don't," Adam looked around the room a little loss for words, and still, so full of shame. "want to make the same mistakes as before."
"Mon ami, whatever are you referring to?" Lumiere's hand lowered to rest on the prince's shoulder.
"I know I shouldn't want to do this," the prince said a little heated now at how oblivious the servant was being, his temper rising to the occasion. Either Lumiere was being patronizingly obtuse or he really didn't know what Adam was talking about, neither option was better than the other one.
"What?" Lumiere's voice rose a little too. Through his eyes it was clear that he was trying to catch up on whatever he was missing.
"This," the prince gestured to his mostly cleaned eye. "Vanity," he snarled out. "I thought I would be cured of it once the curse was lifted! That was the whole point, wasn't it? To teach me a lesson, no?" Adam looked up at Lumiere with such desperation in his eyes, such loss of what to do. "I'm trying my best, I swear it," he said in a ragged whisper like the words were being pulled from his mouth.
"Oh," Lumiere sighed, comprehension downing on his face. "Oh, my prince," he whispered, full of feeling.
It confused the prince to see such sadness on his servant. About this of all things. Lumiere dropped the cloth he'd been using to clean up Adam and pulled the man to his chest with none of the newly acquired restraints.
"Why… are you hugging me?" The prince asked, no hint of his infamous temper on his voice, but genuinely confused as to why Lumiere thought he needed comfort.
"There's nothing wrong with a little vanity," the servant began.
Adam saw red. He pushed Lumiere away as he stood up from the vanity seat.
"How can you say that? How can you say that when it was my flaws that got us cursed in the first place? There's nothing wrong with vanity?!" He walked away breathing harshly.
"Now calm, my prince," Lumiere said with pacifying hands, so used to the job of turning down the fumes of his master it was as natural as breathing. Even though he technically didn't need to do it anymore.
"No!" The blond shouted, turning to look at the other. He looked furious, but mostly, wrenched, almost scared. "How can you say that?" He whispered again, trembling with rage or desperation, both feelings clashing for dominance inside him.
"Adam."
The prince snapped to attention. Lumiere didn't use his name, ever. He just didn't. It was 'master' or 'mon ami' on the regular, 'my prince' if he was being particularly tender.
The servant leaned down to pick something from the floor and then walked towards him. Adam's shoulders tensed his arms to his sides, like he used to do when he didn't want to do something stupid like raising his claws at someone when he was angry.
He crossed eyes with Lumiere and was very tempted to look away.
"Would you fault me for vanity? Or Plumette for feeling beautiful?" Lumiere asked without preamble.
"Of course not," the prince looked scandalized. Shocked out from some of his tension.
He knew how much they liked their looks, he didn't fault them for it, it was amusing and it made them happy.
"Well, what makes you different?" Adam didn't seem to know how to answer that. "There is no difference, mon ami. It's not a bad thing to like yourself, perhaps you've grown a little unused to that, no?"
The prince looked subtly at his fingers, delicate and normal and so very human. It had been a surprise to look at his reflection and not see something from out of a nightmare.
"I think there is a right balance with everything. Being kind instead of selfish doesn't mean you're going to let others walk all over you. Just like appreciating and liking how you look doesn't make you an arrogant creature. And…" for this Lumiere made a pause, lifting his hand up to eye level and twirling the brush Adam had dropped. "Doing something that you like, –something you enjoy, that makes you more beautiful– is not a sin. It will not get you cursed, I assure you, Adam," he said pointedly.
The prince sighed quietly. Then his shoulders dropped as he leaned and relaxed against Lumiere.
"I just… I don't want to be that person again. I care for all of you. If something ever happened again because of me."
"You are not a monster, master, you have never been. Deeply, deeply flawed, yes, but you were never a monster. And you learned. This," he raised the brush, "this is not a sin. And you are beautiful, there is nothing wrong with acknowledging that," Lumiere said quietly. "Just like there's nothing wrong in acknowledging how beautiful I am," he added mischievously. "I'll have you know, Plumette is very pleased to get this back." He puffed his chest up.
The prince roared out a laugh, loud but not animalistic as it would've been before. He took a step back and rubbed at his eyes. Some of the remaining paint came off, staining his palm.
"Thank you Lumiere," Adam sighed with relief. "You really are the best of friends."
"Hmm." Lumiere taped the prince's nose with the hard end of the brush. "Well you're not so bad yourself when the mood strikes you."
Adam laughed. He was trying to be better, and in this, he would also try his best. All of them deserved it, his loyal subjects, his beautiful Belle. And, if he could admit to it, he deserved it as well. He deserved to be kind to himself.
Abril: This is a fic I started out of spite (so very much of it) but I stayed in it out of love. What can I say? They won me over while I was writing (,: There's just like, so much I can do with the live-action's Adam. There's depth to him I know it! And I will pull it out of the movie like an unwilling cat from under the bed.
Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment if you're feeling generous today ;)