Daughter of the Beast

Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast or its characters. I do own Gwen, and any other OCs I create.

Author's Note: Please read before reading the story! This is a companion to my novel-length story "Kissed By a Rose." As such, I made certain changes to the Disney story, so I would recommend you read it first or you will be very confused and possibly very upset as well. I have written this sequel-ish "where are they now?" one-shot as a gift to fans of the original story in thanks for the nearly 400 reviews and 500 favorites it has received thus far, and in honor of the movie coming out in 3D in the theaters. I saw it and was inspired to write!

"Princess Guinevere! Gwen! It's time to be heading back!"

Gwen glanced up at the sunlight glinting through the trees and sighed. The Royal Huntsman, Pierre, was right, of course. The sun was strong and high in the sky—it was nearly noon. And she had promised to be back to the castle in time for lunch.

"Coming!" she called. Clucking to her horse, she turned the mare's nose back in the direction they'd come.

Pierre met her in the next clearing. He sat on his own horse, surrounded by his pack of hunting hounds.

"There you are, Princess," he said, smiling through his brown beard. "I know we haven't had a good day out, but there will be other days, other hunts."

"Of course, you're right," Gwen replied with a shrug. "It doesn't stop me from being disappointed."

Out of the corner of her eye as he fell in beside her, she saw Pierre breathe a slight sigh. His posture relaxed. Gwen rolled her eyes. Really, did he think she wasn't grown up enough to keep from throwing a fit at the thought of returning from a hunt with nothing to show for it? She'd be the first to admit she had a temper—a family trait from both her parents. And yes, in years past she might have lost it at a time like this, embarrassing as it was to admit. But she was twelve now, almost thirteen, and she'd like to think she had better control than that.

Instead of dwelling on it and allowing herself to seethe, she changed the subject, a tactic learned from her mother. "Soon we'll be bringing Geoff out here for his first hunt."

"Not Princess Alexandra or Princess Celeste?" Pierre asked.

"Celeste is too young. I think the idea of killing animals would upset Alix, even though she knows we're killing them for food and not trophies," Gwen admitted. "She'd rather bring a book out here and just read." Gwen liked to read, too, but even at eight her younger sister was rarely to be found without a book in hand.

"You'd never know their Highnesses are twins," Pierre said, referring to Alix and Geoff.

"Sometimes," Gwen agreed. "But then there are times when they finish each others' sentences."

"Do they?" Pierre rarely came inside the castle, so he had few regular dealings with Gwen's three siblings.

"Geoff once finished Alix's sentence from across the room," Gwen remembered fondly.

Pierre shook his head. They rode back to the castle in silence. Gwen cared for her horse—one of the conditions from her parents when they allowed her to have her own. Then, with a friendly wave for Pierre and his staff, she went inside.

As she had expected, she found the entire place in an uproar. Servants scurried about with armloads of ribbons, candlesticks, cutlery, and numerous other decorations. Most of them paused to wave or call greetings when they spotted Gwen entering the cavernous main hall. She waved cheerfully back at them all. When they had no guests, there was very little formality between the royal family and their servants. With one exception, who should be along any moment, thought Gwen.

"Oh, Princess Gwen, there you are! Thank goodness," sighed Cogsworth, the head of the household. He came waddling out from the main dining room to greet her. Right on time, as usual. "Another few minutes and I was going to dispatch a search party."

"Cogsworth! I'm not that late," giggled Gwen. They'd had this conversation many times before. She knew from experience Cogsworth would only send someone to fetch her if she wasn't home by the time an event actually started. He usually sent her parents' head footman Chip, so Gwen was occasionally late on purpose just so she could have him to herself for a little while without Geoff, Alix and Celeste also clamoring for his attention. The young man was a favorite with all four royal children.

Today was not one of those days. Gwen was not willing to face her father's wrath, or worse, her mother's, today. Not the day before the biggest annual event the castle hosted, barring Christmas. There was simply too much to do.

Gwen made her way up to her room to change out of her riding habit. She was just pulling on her favorite purple skirt when there was a tap on the door.

"Come in, Mama," she called.

Her Royal Highness Princess Belle, Gwen's mother, slid gracefully into the room. "There you are, sweetheart. How did you know it was me?"

"Your knock," said Gwen.

"What do you mean?" asked Belle.

"Everyone in the family knocks differently. Haven't you noticed? You always do two taps. Papa does three bigger knocks. Geoff knocks once, bang, and then he comes barging in. Alix knocks very gently with just one knuckle, like she doesn't want to disturb you. And Celeste just keeps knocking until you let her in. I think she learned that from Cogsworth."

Belle smiled. "And what do you do, my almost-thirteen-year-old?"

"Five knocks," said Gwen promptly.

"I never noticed before," her mother admitted. "But I'm sure I will, now that you've pointed it out." She paused. "I just came to check on you, and tell you it's time for lunch. Cogsworth sent Chip to tell us you were back."

Just then there was a single bang at the door, and Geoff came bounding in. Gwen raised her eyebrows at her mother in a You see? gesture. Belle smiled and nodded slightly.

"Gwen!" Geoff cried eagerly. He squeezed her waist in a hug. Gwen ruffled his hair, which was the same red-blond-brown as their father's. Geoff was tall for eight years old, another trait inherited from their father. Gwen, in turn, was also tall for her age; she hoped this would be the year she would pass their mother. At the very least she would be taller than Geoff for some years yet.

"I'm hungry, Mama," Geoff said, turning to Belle. "When do we eat?"

"Right away, if Gwen's ready," said Belle, turning to her eldest with the question.

"I am."

"Then let's go." All three of them headed into the corridor.

Coming to meet them were four more figures. Prince Alexander held the hand of Gwen's youngest sister, four-year-old Celeste. Next came Grandpa Maurice, Belle's father. Geoff's dark-haired twin, Alix, came trotting forward to give Gwen a squeeze of her own. Despite being named for her father, she was a miniature of Belle, but for the lighter green color of her eyes.

"Happy almost-birthday, Gwen," she whispered. "I already told Papa, and now it's your turn."

"Save that for tomorrow," Gwen stage-whispered back. The family shared a laugh, then headed downstairs for lunch.

-0-0-0-

"Did you have a good day hunting?" Alexander asked his daughter about midway through their meal.

"No," sighed Gwen. "I probably went out too early. But it was too nice a day to pass up the chance."

"Especially since you won't have time on your real birthday," piped up Geoff.

"Exactly."

"When are you going to take me with you?" Geoff wanted to know.

"When you can learn to stop talking for a few minutes at a time," Gwen retorted.

"Guinevere, please don't take that tone of voice with your brother," reprimanded Belle gently.

"I'm sorry, Mama. But hunting is about patience and quiet. I don't want him to be disappointed when he doesn't get anything."

Geoff stuck his tongue out at Gwen, who caught her mother's eye and did not respond.

"Geoff, don't stick your tongue out at Gwen. It's rude," said Alexander from his end of the table, piercing his only son with a sharp blue-eyed glare.

"And we've discussed this before," Belle added, though she flashed a smile at her husband. "Gwen wasn't allowed to hunt until she was nine, Geoff; the same rule holds for you."

Geoff pouted a little, but he could hardly argue. After all, he still had to prove to Gwen that he could be quiet. To his credit, he did manage not to speak for the next few minutes. Gwen privately considered that he might be ready for a short hunt after all.

She surveyed her family fondly as she finished her meal. She was well aware how unusual they were for people of their rank, but she liked that about them. Her mother had been raised a commoner, for one thing. According to some of their noble cousins, aunts, and uncles, this had given Belle some very odd notions about how to raise children. Gwen and her siblings were being brought up directly by their mother, not given to a nanny, governess, or even a tutor. Belle taught all four of them their school lessons herself, helped by the elderly castle librarian and Grandpa Maurice.

Their father, Prince Alexander, was unconventional as well, in his way. He didn't use fear to make his children obey. Both he and his wife demanded respect and obedience, particularly in public, but in return the children were rewarded for good behavior more than punished for bad. He also spent as much time with them as he could spare. Other noble children Gwen knew saw their fathers once or twice a week, at most. Gwen, Geoff, Alix and Celeste saw their father several times a day, usually at family meals such as this one. Papa also sometimes dropped in on their lessons—it was he who was often her partner in Gwen's dancing lessons since Geoff was still too short for practice—or even just to play with them for a few minutes. A few weeks ago the whole family had had a snowball fight, joined by some of the servants.

That was another thing that set their family apart from their noble peers: the Prince and Princess treated the servants at the very least like friends and at times like extended family. The servants were respectful and followed orders, particularly the most traditional ones like Cogsworth, but they were also permitted to argue and express opinions with their Master and Mistress. When they visited other castles, Gwen was always struck by how quiet everything was. Other peoples' servants were so mousey, creeping around as if something terrible would happen if one of their betters even caught a glimpse of them.

And then of course, there was How Their Parents Met, the big secret all four royal children knew they could never tell anyone. They had grown up knowing the story. Celeste still asked for it at bedtime, according to Geoff (Gwen had moved out of the nursery and into her own room when she turned eleven). Their father had been transformed into a hideous Beast as punishment for refusing an Enchantress, disguised as a hideous old woman, shelter from a winter storm. He had to learn to love and be loved in return by his twenty-fifth birthday in order to regain human form. As part the spell, the servants were transformed into walking, talking objects. Years later, Mama had come to the castle just when everyone was giving up hope. She and Papa had disliked one another at first, but eventually they did fall in love. A jealous suitor of Mama's had nearly killed Papa when he found out about the Beast, but then he accidentally fell to his death off the castle causeway. Mama told Papa she loved him, he finally changed back into a man and was magically healed of his wounds. They married, and now ruled the province together and had their three beautiful girls and one handsome boy.

As she got older, Gwen might have suspected her parents had made this story up for the amusement of their children, but for two things. The first was that all the servants who had been around at the time corroborated it. Cogsworth, the maitre d' Lumière, the head maid Babette, Chip, Chip's mother Mrs. Potts before she died, the chef Monsieur Joli, the wardrobe mistress Madame de la Grande Bouche, all told the same tale. Gwen could think of no reason the servants would agree to tell such an outlandish and detailed story, even if their Master and Mistress ordered it. Chip in particular told such vivid accounts of being a teacup that Gwen had to believe it had really happened. The second was that every time they entertained the families of the former Regent Council who had ruled the province while her father was…well, a Beast…Prince Alexander's mysterious ten-year absence was always brought up. Everyone who didn't know the real story believed the Prince had been sick. Cogsworth had readily admitted to Gwen that he invented that story himself in order to keep outsiders from finding out that their Prince had spent ten years as a monster. With evidence like that, how could it not be true?

-0-0-0-

After lunch, the younger children went to their arithmetic lessons with Grandpa Maurice. Alexander disappeared into his office with Cogsworth. Gwen heard him grumbling all the way down the hall that if Cogsworth brought up plans for Christmas this early in the year again, then they would go somewhere else for the holiday and one of their relatives could host them for once. Gwen giggled into her hand.

"Sometimes I think I unleashed a monster when I insisted we have Christmas here every year," Belle sighed.

"You mean Cogsworth, not Papa, right?"

"Both," smiled her mother. "Christmas is not your Papa's favorite time of the year, as you know, and Cogsworth's enthusiasm for planning it sometimes overrides his good sense. Even I never dreamed that he would start planning in March last year."

Gwen giggled again. "I've never seen Cogsworth sweat so much after Papa roared at him."

"Ah! Your Highnesses. There you are," Lumière came bustling up wearing his usual grin. "All is nearly ready for the celebrations tomorrow. If you wish, you may inspect the dining hall. The ballroom needs a few finishing touches yet."

"Thank you, Lumière," said Belle. "We'll start in the dining room, then, of course."

"Right this way," Lumière bowed them into the room, falling in behind the two women as they entered.

As always, the room looked beautiful. The decorations were all either shades of blue or lavender, Alexander and Gwen's favorite colors. Even the white tablecloth had matching blue and lavender flowers embroidered on it. The family's best gold cutlery, polished to a mirror hue, adorned the long table. All the important local nobles and wealthy merchants—and their children—would be arriving tomorrow morning in time for the evening's dinner and ball. When Gwen was young, there had been a separate celebration for the children earlier in the day, and the dinner and ball was only for the adults after the children were in bed. But now that Gwen was older she and her father shared the one large evening celebration. The very youngest children, Celeste among them, were fed and entertained in one of the large receiving rooms before being put to bed. The children who were a little older, like the twins, did not attend the formal dinner but were allowed at the ball for just one hour. Alix remarked after her first ball last year that it was a little like being Cinderella, complete with people chasing you out the door at the end of it.

"We won't bring in the flowers until tomorrow just before dinner," Lumière informed Belle and Gwen as they circled the table. "That way they shall be fresh, of course." He winked at Gwen. "So try your best to imagine them in their vases for now."

"I think I can manage." Gwen smiled back at him, silently pleading that what she knew was coming next wouldn't happen.

"Remember that one year you insisted on drawing the flowers on paper and sticking them to the vases to help you picture everything?" Belle asked. "I was pregnant with the twins, so you must have been four or so."

"I knew you were going to bring that up, Mama. Will I never live that down?" sighed Gwen.

"Until you have children of your own, ma chèrie, and they begin to do things that eclipse your adorable exploits as a child," said Lumière. He turned to Belle. "Thirteen years go by in a blink, no?"

"They certainly do," Belle agreed heartily.

"Ah, yes, it seems only yesterday the spell was broken," Lumière sighed. "And look at her now. A blossom as lovely as her mother."

Gwen frowned. "What do I have to do with the spell, Mama? I wasn't even born yet."

"Of course not," her mother said absentmindedly. "The spell has nothing to do with you. Lumière was just saying it doesn't seem that long ago."

"Of course, of course," Lumière agreed. "That is exactly what I meant."

Something about this niggled at Gwen but she couldn't figure out why. When they moved on to inspect the ballroom, she put it out of her mind.

-0-0-0-

The rest of the day was taken up with preparations. Gwen was so busy helping with last-minute things she didn't have time to think. Dinner came and went. Gwen helped her mother put the twins and Celeste to bed as usual.

As Belle leaned down for a goodnight kiss, Geoff piped up, "Mama? How old is Papa going to be tomorrow?"

"Why, thirty-eight. I thought you knew that," answered Belle. "Be sure to give him a big hug tomorrow and don't remind him of how old he's getting."

Gwen smiled, and all three of the younger children giggled and chorused "We won't!" in their most innocent voices. Which of course meant they would at the first opportunity.

"You should get to bed, too, sweetheart," Belle said to Gwen when they were outside the nursery. "Your father and I are. Tomorrow's going to be a late night for all of us." She pulled Gwen into a hug.

"Mama, I can't breathe," whispered Gwen, her voice squeaking.

"I'm sorry." Belle stepped back and smoothed a stray hair off her daughter's face. "I didn't mean to hold you so tight. Lumière's right. Thirteen years do go by quickly. Look at you now; you're so tall and beautiful. I'd never have imagined—" She swallowed. "When you were a baby, I tried to picture what you'd look like when you were grown up."

"Did I meet your expectations?" Gwen asked, spreading her palms.

"No." Belle gave a shaky, breathless laugh. "You exceeded them, of course."

"Mama, are you all right? You're acting very strange."

"I'm fine. Go on to bed. We'll see you in the morning to wish you happy birthday. Dream about the wonderful time you'll have dancing tomorrow night!"

"I'm sure I will." Gwen kissed her mother's cheek and they parted.

-0-0-0-

It was only after she had blown out the last candle in her room that Gwen's mind seemed to suddenly speed up. At first it was just excitement that tomorrow was her birthday, with a wonderful party planned. She thought back happily to as many of her previous birthday parties as she could remember and tried to float on those contented feelings into sleep.

Her mind drifted even further back, to the familiar story of her parents' meeting. Her mother had always told it so the beginning sounded like a fairy tale. And in a way, it was. Perhaps that was why all four of the royal children had frequently asked for it at bedtime. Even now, Gwen found the familiar cadences of the phrases soothing. She could almost hear her mother's sweet, gentle voice speaking in the darkness of her bedroom.

Once upon a time…a young prince lived in a shining castle…

One winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose…he sneered at the gift, and turned her away.

She warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within….the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress….she had seen that there was no love in his heart.

As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous Beast…

…the rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-fifth year…

"Mama? How old is Papa going to be tomorrow?"

"Why, thirty-eight. I thought you knew that."

Geoff's childish question and their mother's reply broke into the story. Gwen gave a soft huff of annoyance into her pillow. Geoff and his talking, even intruding on her nice pre-sleep story to herself. She started it again where it had left off.

…which would bloom until his twenty-fifth year…

"Why, thirty-eight. I thought you knew that…"

"Thirteen years go by in a blink…it seems just yesterday the spell was broken, and look at her now…"

Gwen's eyes popped open. Something wasn't adding up. She wasn't very good at arithmetic, but she did know that twenty-five and thirteen was thirty-eight. The age her father was going to turn tomorrow. If the curse had been broken on the day he turned twenty-five, as her parents' stories claimed, then he and her mother should have been married that year. Gwen should have been born a year later on her father's birthday. But if that were true, then she should be turning twelve this year.

But she was turning thirteen.

Something was wrong.

The timing could only work if she had been born…the day the spell was broken. But that couldn't be right. It couldn't be. If it were true…she could think of no good scenarios that would lead to those circumstances.

Maybe her mother had made a mistake and told Geoff the wrong age. It was possible; arithmetic was not her favorite subject, either. Gwen felt herself relaxing slightly. Yes, it could be just a simple mistake, her mother speaking thoughtlessly out of tiredness or distraction.

But then why would Lumière have made that remark today that seemed to link her with the curse being broken? Belle had not seemed much concerned about it, but Lumière himself had hastily backtracked, something he did when he had made a major mistake and didn't want anyone to know. It was all very strange.

There was only one thing to do. Rather than torment herself the whole night, she would have to talk to her mother alone tomorrow morning. Or better yet, her father. He would know for certain how old he was. Yes, that was the best thing to do. Gwen felt a little better now that she had a firm plan.

She must have slept, though it didn't feel like it. One moment she was lying in bed staring at the canopy of her bed, invisible in the darkness, fully convinced she would never fall asleep. The next moment sunlight was creeping over her through the bedcurtains.

Madame de la Grande Bouche came bustling in to wake her and help her dress. Normally Gwen did these things herself, but between them she and Madame had planned her whole wardrobe for the day: the simple dress she would wear in the morning for last-minute preparations, the formal receiving gown for the afternoon, and finally the ball gown for dinner and dancing. Gwen hadn't seen the final products yet, as had become tradition on her birthday. That way she started the day with a pleasant surprise and continued to be surprised periodically throughout the day.

The first dress was a beautiful sea green in a style that might have been mistaken for a peasant girl's Sunday Best dress but for the fact that it was made of silk rather than linen or cotton. It was comfortable and practical, made to be worn again until Gwen outgrew it.

Gwen tried to act normally, but all she could think of was what she would say to her father when she managed to speak to him alone.

"You seem distracted this morning, dear," Madame remarked as Gwen brushed her out her long, dark hair. "No," the older woman chuckled when Gwen opened her mouth. "Of course you don't have to explain; it's your birthday. You must be so excited! But you should run along. Your family will be waiting for you. If you brush any more you may end up bald!"

Gwen managed a weak smile and tied her hair back in its accustomed ponytail at the nape of her neck. Babette would help her style it later for the party.

"Happy birthday!" everyone cried when she came into the breakfast room. The whole family, plus the head servants, were gathered there. Everyone came forward to hug her or kiss her cheek with more murmurs of congratulations. Gwen again tried to act normally.

Fortunately, no one seemed to notice that she didn't talk much at breakfast. The twins and Celeste were filled with chatter about seeing their friends when they arrived, and about the ball that evening. Even Alix, who of the family most preferred being alone, was excited to show off the new dance steps she'd learned since the Christmas ball. All Gwen had to do was keep up and appear interested.

Once the meal was over, she was just thinking how she was going to talk to her father alone when she felt a big hand on her shoulder. She looked up into concerned blue eyes.

"Gwen, are you all right?" Alexander asked very quietly. Apparently someone had noticed she wasn't herself.

"I…happy birthday, Papa," Gwen said, hugging him around the waist.

He returned the hug and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you. Now, what's bothering you? Tell me."

Gwen hesitated a second too long, just long enough that she felt her father starting to become really concerned. Then she managed, "Papa, how old are you today?"

"Thirty-eight." He watched her face as she absorbed the answer, saw her disappointment, and his own expression became deadly serious. "Belle," he said, sharply enough that his wife turned at once. He flicked his eyes at Gwen. Gwen, confused, watched color slowly ebb from her mother's face in a way she had never seen before.

She started to get an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. A completely foreign sensation that should not happen on her birthday of all days.

"Cogsworth," Alexander said. "See to all the final preparations for the party, and greet the guests if they start arriving earlier than we expected. Show the ones that are staying the night to their rooms. We're not to be disturbed, no matter what."

"But sire—" Cogsworth began, clearly as puzzled as Gwen by these orders.

"Cogsworth."

Gwen knew that tone, and so did the head of the household. He bowed at once. "Yes, Your Highness." He scurried away.

"Chip," Belle said quietly. "Take the children up to the nursery, please. I'll be there in time to help them get ready for this afternoon. They can give their birthday presents to Gwen and their father later."

Chip glanced between Belle, Alexander, and Gwen. Unlike Cogsworth, he voiced no objections to his Mistress abruptly changing plans. Without a word, he ushered Gwen's brother and sisters away.

"Come on, Gwen," her father said. He took her hand as if she were a little girl again. Gwen wanted to object, but found she could not.

"Where are we going?" she asked instead. She was embarrassed to hear her voice quiver just a tiny bit.

"The West Wing, sweetheart," said Belle. There was something odd about her voice, too. "Things are better explained there."

-0-0-0-

The walk to the West Wing was not a comfortable one. Gwen grew more and more worried the closer they got. For one thing, Belle was still behaving very strangely. Her face was sickly pale, and the faint lines around her mouth and eyes had grown deeper. It was her eyes, however, that worried Gwen the most: they were distant, almost glazed over.

Alexander was also completely silent. He had an arm loosely around Gwen's shoulders and Gwen hugged herself to his side as much as she was able. The feeling grew in her that she was not going to like what was coming. Her father seemed to be comforting her before he and Belle told her anything, which was a bad sign.

They reached her parents' suite of rooms. As always, it was immaculate; Belle and the maids kept everything in here perfect. Alexander was the sloppy one, if the state of his personal office the next floor down was any indication. They bypassed the sitting room in favor of the bedchamber.

Belle sat on the big curtained bed, or more to the point sank as if her knees refused to hold her upright a moment longer. Gwen stopped in the middle of the floor. Alexander stood still for a moment in front of the large balcony, but then began to pace back and forth, hands clasped behind him.

"Alexander…" Belle said. "Dear, please. We're frightening our daughter."

Something about the way she said our daughter brought him to stop moving and look at her. "I know, Belle. And we've talked about this so many times…but now I don't know where to start."

"Talked about what?" asked Gwen, trying to keep the panic from her voice. "Start where? What's going on?"

She caught the end of a significant look from her mother to her father, one that said 'You see?' Then Belle looked at Gwen. "Sweetheart, do you remember the story of how your father and I…met?"

"Of course," Gwen said. "How could I forget? You told it so many times. I was thinking about it last night as I was trying to sleep, and that's when I realized the timing was wrong. If you and Papa broke the curse the day he turned twenty-five, and married and had me afterwards, then I should be turning twelve this year. But…I'm thirteen," she finished lamely.

"Yes," her mother said. "You are thirteen. As you've seen, the timing of what we've told you all your life does not add up."

"We've never lied to you, Gwen," Alexander said. He was now quite still, his eyes steady on her. She thought he looked anxious now. "You do know that?"

"Of course, Papa. I've always known the story of how you and Mama met was true. How could you make up something so outlandish and force all the servants to go along? Most of them aren't very good actors, even if you ordered them to tell us that story for some reason."

"Good." Belle managed a smile. "Sometimes it seems outlandish to us, too, and we were there and experienced all of it."

"There are parts of it we'd like to forget," Alexander muttered under his breath.

"We worried sometimes that you children would distrust us because the story was so unbelievable, but we promised each other not to hide it from you or pretend it never happened," Belle continued. "It's good to know you've come to your own conclusions."

"But what does this have to do with me being the wrong age?" Gwen asked.

"We told the truth, Gwen," said Belle, haltingly. "But we didn't tell you all of it."

"What?" Gwen took a step back. She clenched her fists. "Why not?"

"We talked about it when you were a baby. We decided you'd be ready to hear it when you started asking questions. You see, sweetheart…" Belle drew a deep breath. "When I arrived at the castle to look for Grandpa Maurice, I was already expecting you."

The floor seemed to vanish from underneath Gwen. Her ears roared, and she shook her head hard to clear it. "No."

"It's true." Now her mother was physically trembling. Gwen wanted to throw herself into her arms, but couldn't lift even a shoe heel from the floor to move in that direction. "Do you remember Gaston from the story?"

"I…" Of course she did. Belle didn't need to go on. Gwen turned to Alexander, who was almost facing away from her, looking out onto the balcony. "So…you're not my father?" she quavered.

He snapped around with startling speed, his hair almost bristling animal-like as he turned. Gwen had seen her father in a rage many times, but she had never had that anger turned on her, full-force, for any reason. And this temper was different from any she'd seen before. His blue eyes burned with an almost icy fury. But his voice was controlled as he rumbled, "Don't ever say that again, Guinevere. You are my daughter. I might not have been there at the very beginning, but I have been with you every step since your mother and I met. I am your father. Even Gaston thought so, to the end. He never made any claim on you."

"Then…he did die, like you said?" Gwen whispered.

"He did. We never concealed any of that," said Belle. "He wanted to marry me. He saw the Beast as a rival, which was perfectly true by then. He attacked the Beast and was killed by accident; he was knocked off the causeway just as we always told you in the story."

"How…why?" asked Gwen. She cleared her throat. "Why were you carrying me if you weren't married to him and didn't want to?"

"He forced me, because he wanted to make sure I'd say yes to a marriage," said Belle. There was now iron control in her voice. Gwen realized with a shock that her mother was as angry as her husband and was trying desperately to hide it.

"Do you…do you hate me?" Gwen asked miserably. She had always felt as loved as her brother and sisters, had never seen any difference in how they were treated. Indeed, she had often suspected she was her father's favorite. But how could that be, when she wasn't really his daughter? Was it all an act? How could her mother even look at her after what Gaston had done?

"Oh, Gwen, no!" Belle exclaimed. She stood and in seconds enfolded her daughter in a hug. "It wasn't your fault, sweetheart. How could it be? Never think that we blame you. We love you."

Alexander joined them, surrounding them both with his long arms. "Belle," he said, "Could you give us a moment? I want to tell Gwen something. It's important."

"But—" Belle disentangled herself. She looked at Gwen, then at her husband for a long moment. Her face smoothed out a little. "Yes, of course. I'll be in the parlor."

She left. Alexander and Gwen stared at each other.

"How could you keep something like this from me my whole life?" Gwen demanded. She knew she risked setting Alexander off again, but she was angry herself, in the midst of her shock.

She expected him to explode. Instead, he visibly controlled his own temper and walked across the room. He gestured her over to Belle's dressing table with its large mirror. They looked into it, side-by-side, Gwen noticing with dismay how much darker her brown hair was than either Belle's or Alexander's. Why hadn't she noticed before? Geoff, Alix and Celeste all had much lighter hair.

"What do you see?" asked Alexander.

Gwen looked harder, knowing he would get angry again if she pointed out a difference that meant she was not his child. Instead, she looked for similarities. She was going to be tall someday, she knew that already. She'd assumed she had inherited this trait from him, but…it appeared that was a trait from her other father. Her stomach clenched, and she looked harder. Most of her facial features were her mother's. But… "Our eyes are the same color," she remembered in wonder, her fury fading. This had always pleased her in the past, but now it seemed nothing short of miraculous given the circumstances."But how?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I always took it as a sign you were meant to be mine, no matter how you began. You knew before you were born that I was your father."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"One night near Christmas, when your mother and I were just getting to know each other, she was reading me the story of Mary and Joseph from the Bible and how they became the parents of the Christ Child. You remember how Joseph decides to marry Mary, even though her baby isn't his? Just that night, you were big enough that we could feel you moving inside your mother. She took my paw, and she put it here." He put a hand on Gwen's stomach lightly to indicate. "We felt you moving. Together. We didn't love each other then, but all three of us felt a connection. When I saw your eyes after you were born, I knew what we'd felt that night was real."

"Oh, Papa." Gwen threw her arms around his waist. She didn't cry, but she buried her face in his waistcoat as she had so many times when she was younger. He put one arm around her and stroked her hair with the other. He rarely said the words, but it was times like these that Gwen had always known deep down her Papa loved her. Now she felt that again, and like her eye color, it too felt like a miracle.

"We've never lied to you, Gwen," he repeated. "We knew you had to know someday, and we talked and talked about when would be the right time to tell you. We've always felt the truth was better than lies, but we wanted you not to feel different from any other children we had later or to grow up feeling guilty about something that wasn't your fault. I'm sorry if you're angry we didn't tell you, but we did what we thought was best for you."

"I didn't feel different from the twins and Celeste, Papa, I promise," Gwen managed with her face still buried in his waistcoat.

"Good," he said. They stood that way for awhile.

Finally, Gwen managed, "Does…does everyone know?"

"No," Alexander said bluntly. "Your brother and sisters don't know, and if you want we'll never tell them. Not that I think it would make a difference if we did."

Gwen thought about that. She knew her siblings. They adored her, and she them. If she had been a boy, there might have been some resentment from Geoff one day in the distant future, but the law of France was clear: boys inherited over girls. As things stood, Geoff was the true heir to the province, by blood and birthright. Gwen would never inherit something that should have been his as the eldest legitimate son. She nodded. "You're probably right."

"The servants who were cursed with me, of course they all know the truth. Your Grandpa Maurice knows, too. Everyone else, including the servants who came later and all our noble relations, believe Belle and I married and conceived you while I was still…sick." He wrinkled his nose. "I've never liked that story, but it was the best Cogsworth could come up with. I'm surprised no one has questioned it in all these years, but I suspect the one who cursed me has had a hand in keeping people from wondering too much."

"The Enchantress."

He paused for a second, then said, "Yes."

"Did you ever see her again?"Gwen asked on a whim. She didn't want to think about the rest of what she'd just learned for a little while.

"Yes. Didn't we ever tell you?" He looked at her, then shrugged. "I guess not. She… came back and tested me again a few days after I became human. To see if I'd learned her lessons."

"Did you pass this time?"

Alexander spread his arms. "Do you think I'd look like this if I hadn't? You'd have grown up with a fanged and hairy father."

Gwen giggled in spite of herself. The image was a little funny. "What would have happened if you hadn't broken the curse in time?"

"Things would be very different now, but I would still be your father," he said. "I think you might have figured out the truth a little earlier, though."

Gwen giggled again. She felt a little of her tension fade at last. "Thank you, Papa."

He kissed her forehead. "Do you need some time to think? Mama and I can handle the guests for a little while. We can tell everyone you're not feeling your best. It seems to be the universal excuse in this family for disappearing from society."

Now Gwen had to laugh. "At least mine will only be for a few hours. I appreciate it, Papa. I'll be dressed and ready for dinner on time, I promise."

"Good girl. We'll see you tonight."

"Just promise to keep Cogsworth from looking for me."

He grinned. "I promise you won't see him until you walk into the grand dining hall if that's what you want. It is your birthday, after all."

"Thank you, Papa." She gave him one more squeeze, and they went into the next room to explain the new plan to Belle.

-0-0-0-

Gwen was still sitting on her bed a few hours later. She had read one of her favorite adventure stories to soothe her mind. She had thrown her pillows around the room, put them all back, and done it again. She had broken a few small knickknacks like jewelry boxes that she never used. She wasn't the type to pace when upset like Alexander. Normally she preferred to work off bad moods by hunting or just riding, but she didn't want to be seen by any of the party guests yet and leaving her room was a guarantee she would be spotted. So she kept herself calm by imagining the long, hard ride she would take tomorrow, no matter the weather.

More unnerving still, her skill at hunting and riding seemed to be inherited from…from…him. Gaston. She had to think of him that way. The more she thought, the more she agreed with Alexander. He was her real father, not this unknown man who had forced himself on her mother and died before she'd ever been born. Still, she had found herself going over the story of her parents' meeting in her mind to glean every instance in which Gaston appeared. She hadn't given him much thought before other than as the story's bad guy. Every good fairy tale needed a villain.

She just hadn't expected to be related to him, rather than the handsome prince.

Would she turn out to be a villain, then? Guiltily, she thought of those broken jewelry boxes sitting on her chest of drawers.

At that moment there was a tap at the door, startling her.

"I'm not ready to come out yet!" she called. She was confused. The knock was no knock she recognized, yet her parents had promised she wouldn't be disturbed until she was ready.

"Just a moment of your time," creaked a voice from beyond the door. It sounded like an old man.

Gwen's temper rose, but she throttled it down. With a heavy sigh, she went and opened the door.

It was an elderly man, dressed in sweeping dark ropes. He looked surprised when she opened the door. "Oh dear, I seem to be lost. I thought this was…well, never mind. Would you mind escorting me back down to the main hall?"

Gwen wanted to shout at him to go away and leave her alone. That she was having the worst birthday ever, possibly the worst day in her whole life. Added to that, she wasn't ready to face anyone just yet. It was also easy to find the main hall; most of the castle's floors opened onto it.

But at the same time she found herself intrigued by this person who so obviously wasn't supposed to be here. So instead of saying all the things she really wanted to say, she put on her best royal face and said as politely as she could, "I…I suppose I can do that. Provided you let me put a cloak on first—I don't want to be recognized."

Instead of asking questions, the man simply nodded and took a step back. Gwen was grateful. She went to her wardrobe, pulled out a thin cloak with a hood, and slipped it on. "Come on. It's this way," she said.

In an easy motion that belied his age and dress, the old man offered her an arm. Gwen, startled but still intrigued, took it. They started slowly down the hall.

"That was well done, child," the old man remarked when they reached the end of the hall. He patted her arm. "Your parents are teaching you well to control your temper."

Gwen yanked away in shock. "What? How could you—?"

They faced each other. Gwen drew herself up to her tallest. "Who are you?"

"Now, Your Highness, don't go all royal on me. We were having such a nice time." The man chortled a little.

"Who are you?" Gwen demanded.

"Do you want to call for your parents? They'll recognize me. Of course, that would bring a lot more people running, and I know we'd both prefer to keep this little chat private."

"How would my parents know you?"

"Let's say we've met once or twice. Your father, in particular, though our first meeting was quite…ugly."

Gwen stared, eyes narrowed. "You can't be. My parents always told us it was an Enchantress who cursed my father."

"So they did. Weren't you listening to the story? "She warning him not to be deceived by appearances,"" he quoted. "The old hag and the beautiful enchantress are just two of many forms I've chosen to take over the years. I met Belle and Alexander in this form after he'd passed all my tests."

"Then who are you really?" Gwen wanted to know.

"You're a bold young thing. Aren't you afraid I'll turn you into something, like I did Prince Alexander?"

Gwen's stomach dropped. She had hardly considered this possibility. However, she tipped her chin up and said the first thing that came into her head that made sense, which was, "I think, Sir, if you were going to change me into something awful, you'd have done it by now."

He chortled again. "Goodness, you're quick. You're perfectly right, of course. You've already passed the test I set for you."

"What—"

"You offered to escort me back to the hall despite your irritation. You come of a lineage of quick tempers and rash actions, Princess Gwen. It's good to see Belle and Alexander teaching their children to master their instincts and to be considerate of others as well. The way your father was at your age, you wouldn't have believed it possible. Either of your fathers," he said when Gwen opened her mouth.

"You can read minds, then?"

"In a way. I read possibilities. For example, I knew you were wondering before I appeared if you were going to become a villain because your birth father committed some truly cruel acts. Without my visit, you would have always been afraid of yourself, blaming perfectly innocent faults on something evil lurking in your nature. I think we can both agree I've proved that to be completely untrue."

"You? We've only been talking a few minutes," Gwen pointed out.

The old man sighed. "Do I have to explain everything? A truly cruel person could never pass the little test I just gave you, even if I were to curse her in an attempt to make her learn to think of others. Someone that deeply flawed will inevitably be brought down by their own inability to tame their inner nature. I've seen it happen too many times to count. You're not without fault, Princess Gwen, but you're learning what your faults are and how to keep them in check. Rest assured that you're not evil, only human."

Secretly, Gwen was indeed relieved. The old man's words made sense. She had been learning to control her temper in the past few years.

The man nodded in satisfaction, as if she'd spoken aloud. "I trust you'll remember what we've talked about."

"Stay out of my head," Gwen said sharply. "I don't like it when you talk about things I haven't said. It's uncomfortable."

"I'm not in your head, child," the old man sighed wearily. "I just saw a whole new future open up for you once you decided to believe you're not inwardly evil. Many, many more possibilities. It's difficult not to comment on such a significant change."

"It's still uncomfortable."

"Fair enough. I'll try to refrain." He tapped his chin with the top of the wooden staff he carried. "Now, what would you like as your reward?"

"Reward?" Gwen was starting to feel stupid. She seemed to always be one step behind this man.

"Of course. You know your fairy tales, don't you? Kindness to a helpless old man or woman is always rewarded. What would you like? A pair of glass slippers to wear to the ball tonight so you can dazzle your friends? An invisibility cloak? I wouldn't recommend that unless you're in dire need—people bump into you all the time and it always causes a scene. Seven-league boots? The ability to speak with animals? I doubt you'll want that one, since you like to hunt."

Gwen blanched.

"I didn't think so," the old man chuckled. "I doubt you want diamonds and roses to fall out of your mouth when you speak, either."

"No, thank you," said Gwen. "I don't need diamonds, and Papa would never come near me again if I spoke roses."

"Interesting," the old man said, stroking his beard. "Any thoughts? What about a magic bow that never misses? A huntress like you should find some uses for that."

Gwen was tempted, but if she remembered the stories Belle read to her children, items like that were often dangerous and could be misused if the wrong person got their hands on them. She didn't want something physical that could be taken away. She also didn't want any obviously magical ability like waving her arms and making things appear—those were nice to have in fairy tales, but these days people were superstitious. Gwen and her siblings had been warned all their lives what would probably happen if they ever told the truth about their father's mysterious absence from public view.

That did not leave very many options.

"I want to find someone who I love and will love me the same way my parents love each other," she said finally.

"I was afraid you were going to ask that," sighed the old man. "With such a wonderful example of the power love holds. Unfortunately, that is not a wish I can grant. I cannot guarantee anything that will happen in the future—that is not part of my magic. The future depends solely on human choice. I see the chances are very good that you will find your own true love someday. For now, ask for something else."

Gwen rubbed her chin with a hand as she thought. She considered asking for nothing, but it would be a shame to turn down this opportunity. Finally an idea occurred to her. "I want the ability to tell someone's intentions, good or bad, when I look at them. Not read their minds, just to get an idea of their 'inner nature,' as you called it."

The old man actually looked surprised. "I don't believe anyone has ever asked for that before."

"Can you do it?"

"Yes, I believe I can. Hold still a moment." He stepped forward and touched her gently with a fingertip, first on the forehead, then on both eyelids, and finally on the heart. "There, it's done."

"I don't feel any different. It didn't even tingle or anything."

"You won't. It's a small change. Nothing as drastic as what I did to Alexander. You'll just notice that you have a feeling about people that you'll learn to trust. When it comes to sensing peoples' intentions, you'll never be wrong. The difficulty will be getting others to believe you. People hide their true natures very well."

"I'll manage. Thank you for the gift." Gwen executed her finest curtsey.

"Lovely, my dear. You're very welcome. It pleases me more to reward people than to discipline, in any event. In your case doubly, since I've been involved so long with your family. I wish you well." He tapped his staff on the marble floor twice, which made a loud, booming echo. Before her eyes he vanished.

Gwen blinked. She was still staring at the spot where the man had vanished when Madame de la Grande Bouche came hurrying up the corridor.

"Why, Princess Gwen, there you are! We've been so worried about you! Their Highnesses told us you weren't well, but I didn't suspect a thing this morning! You should have said something rather than just let me dress you up like that and send you off to breakfast as if nothing was wrong."

Gwen stared at her for a moment. Then the real world snapped back into place and she managed a smile. Her reprieve was over and it was time to remember that she had a wonderful party to look forward to in a few hours. "Thank you, Madame. I'm feeling much better now. Is it time to change for dinner already?"

"Yes indeed, dear, time and past! But I thought I heard a noise up here just now and decided to come check on you. If you'll give me just a moment, I'll go summon Babette to do your hair and we'll get started at once."

"Please do," said Gwen. She took the time Madame was gone to head back into her room and sit on her bed to wait for the two servants.

She had no idea how she was going to tell her parents what had just happened, and about her new ability. It was already working; she could feel Madame's genuine concern the moment she saw the tall older woman. The old man had told the truth about that.

She gave her pillow a light punch. Looking back over the conversation, he had neatly dodged her question about his real identity. Maybe her parents would know.

What a day it had been, and it was barely half over. Gwen considered. Did she have enough strength left to get through the rest of it?

Of course she did. It was her birthday, after all.

Author's Note: Wow, this was a long one. I had a few specific plot points I wanted to cover in this piece. The rest was all character.

Several people have reviewed over the years Kissed By a Rose has been out (yes, it has been years) asking for a sequel. I have always said any sequel material would appear as a series of oneshots rather than a novel. That way I don't have to come up with a full-blown crisis for Belle, Alexander and their family to solve, I can just take snapshots of the characters' lives at important moments. This is the second of said snapshots, the first being The Christmas Rose that covers the first Christmas after the spell is lifted.

I've known for awhile that Belle and Alexander have three more children after Gwen, including at least one boy so Gwen isn't inheriting, and that two of the children are a set of twins. Sitting down to name them was a lot of fun. Alix is of course named after her father, Celeste for Belle's mother. Geoff was hard to name. I wanted something plausible that Belle and Alexander would name their son, something feasible for the time period, and at the same time something not too grandiose or cheesy. Geoff is named for Geoffrey Chaucer, an author I'm sure Belle and Alexander enjoyed together before their twins were born. I considered Maurice, but I thought it would be too confusing since Grandpa Maurice is still alive.

I imagine the version of their meeting and courtship Alexander and Belle told their kids was something akin to the Disney version. Except minus the Mob scene since in my version that didn't happen.

Once last thing: you'll notice that Alexander is referred to as Gwen's father throughout the story. This was done deliberately. I apologize if this was confusing to anyone. There is no good way to refer to Gaston in relationship to Gwen when you're trying to avoid the words "biological", which I think sounds too scientific for purposes of this story, and "birth", which just sounds awkward. As was pointed out to me recently by a good friend, our everyday language tends to tip towards biological parents being referred to as "real" parents and this is not always accurate. I wanted to avoid this trap at all costs. The whole point is that Alexander is Gwen's real father, regardless of how she was conceived.

Thanks to all who have read and enjoyed my stories.

Over and out,

SamoaPhoenix9