A holiday gift for hathor-frozen on Tumblr from your secret santa! I've tried to address your love of little Adam's life and his relationship with his mother and Lumiere - hope it makes you smile :) xoxo

Set in the 2017 universe. Rated a soft T for a little swearing and one mildly frightening scene. Nothing crazy, it's mostly fluff!

In the smallest room of servants' quarters, one tainted mirror hung on the back of one very crooked door. In its surface was the face of a teenager, expression fixed in concentration as he made the last adjustments to his cravat.

Sighing in satisfaction, he stepped back to admire himself. He wore a brand new coat with bright buttons, made with the finest fabric he'd ever seen—yet it sagged on his lanky frame, and technically didn't belong to him anyway. The wig fit somewhat better, though the bright white hair was certainly a strange contrast to his youthful face. Yet it mattered not, for fifteen year-old Lumiere saw nothing but splendor.

"Ah, look at you!" he told himself, a flashy grin staring back at him. "A real palace footman!"

A moment later he stepped into the hall, a swirling pool of white and gold. The other servants moved in haste all around, barely sparing him a second glance—though he did earn himself a grunt or two as he pushed his way past their elbows.

Up old, rotting steps and into those of spiraling mahogany, Lumiere finally slowed his pace and breathed it all in. A dozen glimmering chandeliers lined the grand entryway, hand-carved pillars and floors of polished marble reflecting the candlelight in the darkness of early morning.

Ah, what splendor! What beauty! Such exquisite detail in everything he touched. It made his last place of employment look like a mere broom closet in comparison. "Oh, to live like this," Lumiere breathed, though he held no enmity towards his new masters and their wealth. He was here to make a new life for himself, after all. He would live to serve, if that's what it took.

Someone ascended the stairs beside him then, and the castle's brilliance soon paled against the sight. He caught the girl's lovely features for but a moment as she hurried past him, holding a long feather duster in one delicate, golden-brown hand and rushing to attend some task. A few dark curls fell from her hair kerchief as she rounded the corner and left his sight.

An angel lives here too? Lumiere thought, a stupid smile now plastered across his face.

"What are you doing?"

Lumiere spun on his heel. At the base of the steps stood a middle-aged man, with the beginnings of a rather rotund stomach and a sharply waxed moustache shaped into two careful curls. Lumiere smiled, dashing back down the steps and sweeping himself into his most elaborate bow. "Monsieur Cogsworth," he said. "I am at your service!"

The butler hummed in distraction, looking down at a thick, open notebook in his hands. "And who are you?" he muttered.

"Why, you interviewed me for the position a fortnight ago," Lumiere reminded him. "…Auguste Lumiere?"

"Mm. Yes, that's right," Cogsworth said, tearing past several more pages of his notebook and noting something on its surface. "I do hope you'll be more reliable than the last one. Seems he couldn't quite handle the master's…" He trailed off at that, finally glancing up and meeting Lumiere's eyes. There was a strange look there, one he couldn't quite place.

Well, whatever it was, Lumiere wasn't one to let that disturb him for long. "You can count on me," he said in earnest. "Chapeau saw to my needs last night, as per your letter. It's a…a very nice room." That part was a fib, at best—his room was barely half the size of his previous quarters, and was now shared with two others. A bit surprising in such a grand castle, but Lumiere supposed there were a lot of servants to house here. Surely their king did his best by them.

"Yes, yes very good," Cogsworth was saying, now back to frantically scribbling in his notebook. "You'll be cleaning and polishing every candlestick and candelabra in the West Wing today."

"Candlebra?" Lumiere asked curiously. "What's the difference?"

"What's the—?" Cogsworth looked up again, frowning deeply at him. Then he sighed, looking back at his notes yet again. "Just clean anything with a candle in it, Monsieur Lumiere."

Perhaps Lumiere should have been sobered by the rebuke, but in truth he was merely tickled at the title. Monsieur Lumiere. That had a nice ring to it. Better than Augie, as he'd once been known in the village. Certainly better than Gus, as his beloved but questionably senile grandmother insisted on calling him. He shuddered.

Yes. Monsieur Lumiere would do quite well.

"Go on, lad. Can't have you working such a task until I'm certain you can handle yourself."

He'd been following the older butler back towards the servant's wing, and now stood before a table with a large basin of steaming water. A few candlesticks already sat soaking inside. Lumiere needed no further instruction then that—reaching for a cloth and some polish, he quickly pulled the finest candlestick from the basin, dried it with a few quick motions, and rubbed each dark spot away with flourish.

"Voilà!" he said, displaying the finished product for his superior.

"Mmm," Cogsworth hummed, clearly surprised at the young man's skill. "Yes, well…I suppose that'll do."

"I told you, did I not?" Lumiere grinned. "I'll be the greatest footman this palace has seen! Maitre d' before you know it."

Cogsworth huffed in amusement. "Sure you will. Just be on with it, now."

"As you wish, mon ami!"

The butler sputtered in disbelief. "We are—we are not friends!"

"Not yet, perhaps, but I am determined it won't be long before we are!" he declared, bolting down the hall before Cogsworth could say another word.

The task was no small feat, and Lumiere worked ceaselessly, running back and forth between the West Wing and his workstation in the lower depths of the palace, soaking and scrubbing and polishing each of the finely-carved candlesticks, replacing the candles that had burned too low in each room before repeating the process for the next. There were so many rooms, in fact, that the castle had already fallen into darkness when Lumiere finally reached the deepest chambers of the West Wing.

"Huh," he said to himself, holding a brilliant golden candelabra in one hand and a short candlestick in the other. "You know…this is an important difference."

Returning them to their places, Lumiere sighed, tired but satisfied with his work, finally venturing into one of the final bedchambers to complete his task and hopefully acquire a well-earned supper.

He paused just beyond its door, however, for he suddenly realized he wasn't alone.

"Rest now, my love."

The words were soft, and but for the stillness of these halls Lumiere could never have heard them. The voice began to hum, evolving into words now sung by a quiet, tender voice.

"Days in the sun,

When your life has barely begun,

Not until my own life is done,

Could I ever leave you."

Silently, with stilled breath, Lumiere poked his head around the nursery door. A woman stood there, facing the large windows, staring at the silent snowfall as she sang. Moonlight fell through the glass, outlining her image in a pale blue, casting long shadows across the floor. Her voice soon dissolved back into a gentle hum, the beautiful lullaby one Lumiere had never heard but struck his heart in such a way that it would remain there for years to come.

After a moment, her humming itself quieted, and the woman turned her head. The princess, Lumiere realized in shock, and for a moment feared she'd sensed his presence. Yet she did not cast her gaze behind, but to the bundle against her shoulder, which the young footman just now realized was a sleeping babe—Prince Adam, Lumiere determined, the new heir to this kingdom.

The princess kissed the child's head then, pulling him closer against her. One small arm reached around her neck in response, the young boy responding to her touch even in sleep. Sighing, the princess tucked him ever closer and gazed back out across the snow-covered grounds.

Ah, Lumiere thought, heart filling with warmth. A mother's love. What a beautiful scene.

A moment later, that scene was shattered.

"Where is she?!"

The princess whipped her head around. A thunderous, angry voice had broken through the air, filling the peaceful silence like hot, burning tar.

Lumiere's own heart flew into his throat at the voice. Is that—

"Damn it, tell that woman I demand to see her this instant!"

The shouts grew indistinguishable then, yet fiercer. The princess hugged he child tight, finally catching Lumiere's eyes. He gasped, and pulled back into the hall.

"Your Highness," he whispered, bowing deeply from the shadows. He felt himself trembling, and though he feared the woman's reproach for his spying, something in his heart told him that source of those shouts was much more to be feared. He sucked in a breath, and went on. "F-forgive me, Princess, I was only here to replace the—"

Yet as he looked back up, she was already standing before him. Her eyes were wide, full of fear, glancing into the hall then back at him. She looked so different to him than she had the night before—a night when the castle was full of dignified guests and the man named Chapeau had brought Lumiere to the hidden balconies of the ballroom for a peek. The princess had had been dressed in a glamorous gown then, donning deep red lips and an elaborate updo, dragged across the crowds and smiling in silence as her husband showed her off like a prize horse to his friends.

Lumiere had been far too overcome with the beauty of such high society to notice the pained look on his companion's face as they watched.

Now, though the princess herself stood before Lumiere in the flesh, she couldn't have seemed any different. Still a lovely woman, she was unpainted and looked so… so real in the dim light. And so young—in fact, she couldn't have been more than a few years Lumiere's senior. And the fear in her eyes—that made her seem more human than the rest of it.

"Take him," she gasped, and before he could even react the princess had pressed the sleeping babe into his arms.

"P-Princess," Lumiere said in shock, fumbling to get a good hold of the child. "I—"

"I'm sorry, you're new," she said, voice frantic, barely sparing him a glance as she focused her attention back on the darkness beyond. "But you must know Mrs. Potts. Please, she'll know what to do. Just take him away from here."

He glanced back towards the way he'd come. A shadow had emerged in the dim candlelight, the silhouette of a large man now storming through the nearest archway. The great prince himself, ruler of these lands. With another shout, he threw out his hands and sent the closest decorative vase tumbling to the floor.

"Those halls connect downstairs," the princess whispered, the shattering porcelain nearly drowning out her words. Lumiere looked back, following her hand which now pointed even deeper into these halls.

He swallowed, confused and filled with no little fear. "Your Highness…I'm not sure I should—"

"Hurry!" she insisted, sweeping her skirts aside and stepping between them and her raging husband. Pausing at the edge of the shadows that hid them, she spared her young son one last, lingering glance. Then she turned back, and stepped into the light.

As the shouts resumed, Lumiere's legs finally moved, slipping silently towards the darkness as directed with the young child in tow. His heart was racing nearly as fast as his legs themselves, but he pushed onward until the angry voice behind him finally vanished. He didn't look back.

At long last he slowed, leaning against a dusty wall and trying to quell the pounding in his chest. He stood in an abandoned corridor now, where only the moonlight illuminated their surroundings. Surroundings that, to Lumiere's mild alarm, were nothing that he recognized.

He bit his lip nervously, readjusting his grip on the boy. His arms already ached from his weight—the kid was certainly heavier than he looked.

Oddly enough, it was at this gentle movement—and not his frantic racing or the violent shouts they'd left behind—that finally woke the child. The boy shifted in his arms, pulling back slowly and blinking away the sleep in his eyes.

"Ah!" Lumiere said, holding him out and giving him his best smile. "Bonjour, little master."

The child stared at him for a long moment, slowly realizing this was definitely not the person whose arms he'd fallen asleep in. At once, his lower lip began to tremble, wide blue eyes filling with tears.

"Oh…oh no," Lumiere gasped. "M-my prince, it's all right! No need to—"

His words were cut off by an ear-splitting cry.

"Sacrebleu!" Lumiere cried, cringing at the sound, pulling the child back against his shoulder before his flailing sent him to the floor. "Shh, shh, all is well!" he tried, patting his back in an awkward attempt to quiet him. "Maman will be back for you in no time—"

"MA!" Adam wailed in response, cries growing ever worse. "MAMA!"

Shouldn't have reminded him! Lumiere realized, far too late. He looked back at the unfamiliar halls, beginning to sweat. Good lord, what to do? And where was this Mrs. Potts?!

Forcing down his panic, Lumiere wracked his mind for anything he could try. He thought back to the moment he'd gotten into this mess, remembering the child's mother and her beautiful lullaby. That's it! he realized. A song!

Lumiere knew no lullabies himself, but he certainly knew a good folk tune or two. Never abashed to display his talents, he started at once into his best and most cheerful rendition. It took well into the second verse before Prince Adam finally quieted, but soon after he was watching Lumiere with wide, attentive eyes. Two chubby fists gripped the servant's vest, his little mouth hanging open as though this were quite the strangest thing he'd ever seen.

Lumiere wasn't sure what to think of the child's intense stare, continuing to sing despite his discomfort. Has he never heard a man sing before? he wondered. He didn't know much of the royal family, but a king with such violent shouts as he'd just heard did not sound like the kind of father to sing lullabies.

Sacrebleu. What I have I gotten myself into here?

"Ah," he said aloud, finishing the verse and shaking away the discomforting thought. "There we go! No more tears, Prince Adam. Agreed?"

The boy just continued to stare at him, his round, heavy cheeks in strange juxtaposition to the very serious look on his face. His eyes were truly piercing—blue, like babies' eyes often were, yet at the same time they held something deeper in their depths. Something Lumiere had rarely seen in grown men, not to mention such a young child.

What could he be thinking? he wondered.

He barely had more than a moment to mull it over when the young prince's hand shot up and buried itself in the curls of Lumiere's wig.

"Oh! Oh no, my prince, you mustn't—"

Too late. Adam's grip was far stronger than those tiny arms let on, and the wig was quickly tugged from its careful placement and tossed to the floor. As Lumiere cried out in dismay, young Adam's own seriousness vanished, replaced by wild giggles.

"Oh! You little trickster," Lumiere declared, setting the prince on a spot of soft carpet before retrieving the headpiece. Brushing it off with care, he spotted the closest mirror and went about replacing it atop his head.

"Phew. Much better," he said a minute later, taking one final look at himself before turning around. "Now I'm finally presentable again—"

He stopped, heart flying into his throat. The prince was gone.

"Sacre Dieu!" he cried in panic, scanning both sides of the hall in a desperate attempt to spot him. "Prince Adam! My prince, where are you?!"

Something thumped against the floor in the nearest room, and Lumiere bolted towards the sound. He skidded to a stop inside the small office, catching sight of the culprit. The prince sat amid a mess of books, adjacent to a now-empty bookshelf, little fingers sweeping open the nearest title and immediately tearing through the first page.

Lumiere cursed again, rushing over and pulling the book from Adam's fists before he could do any more damage. The boy, however, merely reached for the next, sticking it straight in his mouth.

"These are—these are not toys," Lumiere said firmly, taking the second book away and lifting the prince up and out of reach. Standing and shutting the door to prevent any more escape attempts, Lumiere then placed the prince a good distance away before trying to return the bookshelf to its former state.

He'd just started to shove the texts back in place when another crash rang out behind him. Spinning around, he realized Adam had crawled to yet another shelf and released its contents to the floor just like the first. The boy looked up at Lumiere with wide, innocent eyes, gnawing fiercely on a very unfortunate copy of Romeo and Juliet.

Ten minutes later, Lumiere stood in the hall once again, holding the boy in one tired arm while he played happily with his wig. The article had finally been relinquished to the prince in a desperate attempt to slow down his path of destruction—just long enough that Lumiere could clean up the rest of it.

This was not in my job description, he sighed, turning to look at the boy in his arms. "Well, my prince," he asked tiredly. "Do you know the way back?"

Adam finally tore his focus from the wig in his hands, and blinked. Then, to Lumiere's surprise, lifted one short arm and pointed towards the closest archway. Thank God, Lumiere thought in relief, heading eagerly in that direction.

As it turned out, Adam did not know the way back. This much Lumiere realized after following the child's directions for the last dozen turns. Of course, had he any experience with one year-olds in the past, he would have already known as much.

"You have pulled one over on me, little master," he declared, though he suspected by now the boy hadn't really known what was going on in the first place. In some defeat, Lumiere stopped to take in their present surroundings. This hall was lined with grand portraits, illuminated by a few flickering sconces that faded into distant shadows.

"Ah, your ancestors, no?" Lumiere realized, perking up once again. He walked slowly down the long hall, admiring the paintings and their occupants. "What fine-looking people," he said in excitement, stopping to examine the nearest one. "Just look at the embroidery on that coat! And—"

Lumiere stopped, startled as the small prince grabbed at his vest and tucked his face against his neck. The wig slipped from the boy's fingers and fell to the floor.

Lumiere turned around, but saw nothing but an empty hall and ever more portraits. "My prince," he said in concern, crouching down to retrieve the headpiece. "Whatever is the…matter…"

He saw it then. An enormous portrait right behind them, depicting a man covered in furs and jewels and holding a massive scepter. He stared down at them with dark eyes.

"The Prince…" Lumiere realized, standing again and taking in the sight. He looked back down at the boy, and lowered his voice. "Your Papa, little one."

Adam let out a quiet whimper, only burying his face further against his neck. Realization struck Lumiere then, cold and terrible in his chest.

He's already scared of him.

That strange fear from before returned, and Lumiere looked back up at his true master. He knew it was but a portrait, but it suddenly felt real. Real, and terrifying—like a monster among the shadows.

He swallowed. Should I be scared too?

By now, the prince's small body had begun to tremble. Sucking in a breath, Lumiere hugged him tight and bolted out of the dark halls. They'd both had enough of this place.

He ran and didn't stop, not until the halls looked bright and, perhaps, a little familiar. As the boy's shaking gave way to exhaustion, Lumiere let himself ponder it all. How very strange it was—for while the royal family had always seemed so regal and distant, he now found one of their members sleeping in his very arms. One who had sent him running through these halls and mangled his precious wig and quite nearly given him a heart attack.

Yet while, undeniably, the child was no small source of mischief…Lumiere decided maybe a little mischief was just what they needed in a place like this.

He would wander the halls another quarter hour before finding his way to the kitchens. Once there Cogsworth would nearly have his neck—that is, until his delay was explained. Lumiere would see that strange look in the man's eyes again, and hear nothing more of it as Mrs. Potts finally took the sleeping boy back to his mother.

Yet for now, Lumiere simply held the young prince close as he wandered. "Goodnight, my little friend," he whispered, coming to a decision. "…For you, I will stay."

Thirty Years Later

"My prince? You called?"

Adam stood at the wide nursery windows, staring over the gardens below. He turned at the sound of the voice, revealing a tiny bundle in his arms. Born just that morning, the castle had been a whirl of commotion and anxiety until the safe arrival of their newest prince. By now, a quiet peace had settled over them all.

Lumiere gazed at the scene before him, reminded in no small part of another from long ago. "Congratulations, my friend," he said warmly, abandoning his formalities for the occasion.

Adam simply smiled—a wide, awestruck kind of smile, one shared by most new fathers across the world. He looked back down at his son, breathing shallowly for a long moment before looking back up. "He wants to meet you," he whispered at last.

Lumiere chuckled. "And how do you know that?" he asked, approaching the prince's side.

Adam grinned a little, and shrugged. "I guess I don't," he admitted. "I…I don't know much of anything, in fact." He stopped, growing pale and staring up at Lumiere in a sudden panic. "Oh God, I'm not ready for this. What was I thinking?"

"Well…" Lumiere began, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "I would assume thinking wasn't a prominent action in that particular moment."

Adam gave him a wry look. Yet it didn't last long, for soon he was smiling once again, albeit a bit nervously. "So you think I'll be all right?" he prodded.

Lumiere rested a hand on his shoulder. "I have no doubt."

Adam finally relaxed again, returning his gaze to his new son. Reaching out a finger, Lumiere placed it with care in the babe's small palm. The little fingers tightened around it immediately.

Adam watched for a moment, then swallowed roughly. "Maybe it's a little early to ask," he started. "But we've already decided…so there's no point in putting it off."

Lumiere looked up in confusion.

"Lumiere…would you and Plumette be his godparents?" Adam asked quickly.

Lumiere's eyes grew wide in surprise. "Us?" he gasped. "But my prince…I'm only—"

"My friend?" Adam pressed. His expression grew serious then. "Lumiere, Belle has no family but Maurice, and there's no way in hell I'm leaving him to any of my relations," he explained. "Look, we'll say you're some long-lost cousin, or…I don't know, make you a count or something. Just say you'll do it." He stopped then, features softening. "I mean…please?"

Lumiere blinked, still in shock at the offer, but soon a warmth flooded his chest. "Well, I will need to discuss it with my better half," he said, smiling again. "But I am quite certain she will be as happy as I to accept."

Adam sucked in a breath of joy at that—then almost as quickly, his eyes grew wide. "Oh, damn, I was—I was supposed to…" He started for the door, then looked down and remembered the child in his arms. "Belle asked me to ask someone to fetch her a warmer night gown, and I completely forgot," he explained quickly.

"My prince, allow me to—"

"Here," Adam said before he could finish, handing off the infant with still-clumsy arms. Lumiere took him swiftly, cradling the bundle against his chest.

"I'll be right back," Adam said quickly. He paused before he left, however, looking back down at the boy and reaching back for one little hand. "Just going to check on Maman," he explained to the infant, voice higher and far sweeter than it had ever been before. "This is Lumiere, all right? Be nice." He furrowed his brows at that. "Well, I guess he can't really do anything but cry. Sacre Dieu, he's so tiny," he said to himself, shaking his head and pulling away. "Okay. Right back," he promised Lumiere, finally dashing out of the room.

Lumiere chuckled again. He really shouldn't—he'd become a father to a little girl himself not a year before, and had been a far greater ball of nerves even than Prince Adam. Still…it was quite amusing being on the other side of things.

He looked down at the infant prince now in his arms. The boy's eyes were wide open now, brown like his mother's but full of the same intensity his father's had held for him all those years ago. This time, however, Lumiere simply smiled.

"Bonjour...my little friend."

The End

A/N - The verse Adam's mother sings was taken from a deleted scene from the 2017 film. Also, I named Lumiere after Auguste Lumiere, of two brothers born a century later who became some of the first filmmakers. Seemed fitting :) And for some reason the thought of Lumiere having some completely un-Lumiere nickname like Gus cracks me up!