Author's note: I know, I know, I'm deviating from my Wicked norm, but what can I say? MyDearLizzie requested a BATB fic, so here it is. I know writing in the 2nd person is a little odd, but I felt like it was the best way to make this work. Hope you like it!

Also, you know the drill: Beauty and the Beast doesn't belong to me. If it did, I wouldn't still be looking for my Prince!

You're dwarfed by him.

It's odd, really. You've always been considered tall and, though beautiful, a little rough around the edges, a little peculiar. Right now, you don't feel like either of those things—they're both entirely offset by the Beast. (The yards of silk you're draped in don't hurt, either.) He's just so much taller than you, and so much more rough around the edges, that even you, in all your strangeness, feel elegant.

You're not entirely sure how you got here—not to the castle, it's obvious how you got there, it was clearly your own decision—but into this golden ballroom and into the arms of a Beast? Never mind the "not entirely sure"—you haven't the slightest idea how you ended up like this, here in this place.

He has a hand at your waist. Of course, his hand doesn't rest in the curve of your hip the way any other partner's would—no, it covers your whole right side and your whole back. You should be afraid, you think absentmindedly. You've seen his temper in action before, and it's perfectly obvious that he could break you in an instant if he wanted to. Somehow, though, you're not afraid—not even a little. On the contrary, this is the safest you've ever felt in your life.

You tilt your head back so you can smile up at those deep blue eyes of his, and at his hesitant smile back—an expression that looks slightly out of place on his normally ferocious-looking face—you close your eyes and relax against his broad chest, safe in the arms of your Beast.