Belle was in her room writing about the day's events in her journal when she heard a knock on her door. Setting her quill in her inkwell, she rose to answer it.

"So here is our future princess," Lumiere said when she opened the door, smiling and bowing to her, "I hope I am not disturbing you?"

"Not at all," Belle responded, "I was just doing a little writing."

"Making wedding plans already?" Lumiere asked.

"And usurp your position as the royal wedding planner? I wouldn't dream of it," Belle answered.

"Ah, but it is the bride who is truly in charge of the wedding. I am merely here to ensure all of your dreams of the special day come true, the lights, the colors, the food, the music, the dress, the décor. . ." Lumiere told her.

"I suppose there is a lot to plan, isn't there?" Belle muttered, putting a hand to her cheek and feeling slightly overwhelmed.

"Not to worry, mademoiselle, orchestrating fetes and attending to guests happens to be my specialty," Lumiere reassured her, smiling dashingly, "But, of course, these are matters we will discuss in great detail later. I've come now to inform you that the master would like to speak with you in his quarters."

"Regarding?" Belle asked, tilting her head to the side and arching an eyebrow.

"I believe the details are something which the master hopes to keep as a surprise," Lumiere answered evasively.

"The master is just full of surprises, isn't he?" Belle asked, smiling.

"Only pleasant ones for the mademoiselle. And, after all, what is romance without a little mystery? It keeps the excitement alive, non?" Lumiere said, he held his arm out to her, "Shall I escort you?"

"I believe I remember the way, but," Belle said, taking his arm, "I wouldn't mind the company."

As they walked, Belle admired the artwork on the walls of the royal residence. Many priceless paintings adorned the halls, including Rodin, Da Vinci, Poussin. Belle felt the urge to stop and admire the mastery in each one, but didn't want to keep Lumiere or Adam waiting. She thought, with a pang of sadness, how much her mother would have liked to see such pieces. Belle remembered how her mother first taught her about colors, helping her smooth paint on a canvas and praising her early work, which was little more than different colored blobs. How she wished she could share her new life with her mother now. Oh, the beauty she could show her.

"I'd like to offer my congratulations once again on the engagement," Lumiere said, patting her arm with his free hand, "Mademoiselle will make such a lovely princess."

"Do you really think so?" Belle asked, forcing herself to leave her sadness for the time being.

"But of course," Lumiere responded, "A beauty such as yourself with your grace and charm? You were born for this destiny, ma cherie, you are too noble of character to not also be noble in position. We've all been waiting for this outcome since you first walked into the castle months ago."

"You're too kind, monsieur," Belle replied, smiling fondly at Lumiere.

"Au contraire, my words can do neither you nor my happiness at the engagement justice," Lumiere replied.

"I can only hope the king is as amenable to the idea as you are," Belle said, looking sideways at Lumiere to catch his expression, "I am aware that his approval is critical for the legitimacy of our marriage."

A look of concern crossed quickly over Lumiere's face, not at all lost to Belle, before he regained his composure and his expression softened back into a charming smile.

"A minor detail that the mademoiselle has no need to concern herself with," Lumiere said, "Certainly he will adore you just as the rest of us do. Besides, there is no dissuading the master once he has his heart set on something and, ma cherie, he has his heart entirely set on you."

Lumiere slowed his pace and they stopped in front of a set of double doors that Belle was fairly certain opened to the prince's quarters. Sure enough, Lumiere reached up and rapped on the doors. Almost instantaneously they swung open, revealing Adam in his cobalt blue suit. He wore it often for her both because he knew she liked it and because it reminded him of the night she broke the spell. Belle noticed he looked slightly nervous.

"You sent for me?" Belle said.

"I asked for you," Adam corrected, taking both of her hands, "Will you join me for desert on the terrace?"

"Yes," Belle answered slowly, wondering if this was Adam's surprise.

"Close your eyes," Adam told her softly. Belle looked at him questioningly, but complied. Adam pulled her gently through his chambers, until Belle felt a slight breeze on her skin and realized they must be out on the terrace.

"Can I open them?" Belle asked, excitement and nervousness fluttering in her chest.

"Yes," Adam answered. Belle opened her eyes to see that the terrace had been outfitted with a table covered by a brocade table cloth embroidered with roses and set with fine china, garlands of roses were laced around the railing of the terrace and woven like a canopy above them. Lanterns had been hung all around so that the terrace was a symphony of light and flowers. Belle smiled at her fiancée's efforts to romance her when she noticed something on the table catching the candle light.

Belle turned towards the prince and looked at him questioningly. He kissed her hand and then led her to the table. An open wooden box was centered in the middle of her dinner plate and cradled in the box was an enormous diamond, as gold and sparkling as though the prince was serving her starlight. Belle had never even seen a diamond before, yet she did not doubt this ring's magnificence. Adam watched her expression, anxious to please her, but found her pretty face difficult to read.

So perhaps her diamond ring would not be as well-received as the library, he thought. Somehow he loved that about her, how she would be far more excited about a room full of books than a priceless jewel. Though he did hope she would like it, after all, Babette and Lumiere had assured him she would. Adam wordlessly took the ring out of its box and knelt at Belle's feet. She looked down at him, uncertain as to whether she wanted to smile or cry or scold him for his overindulgence. He held her gaze for a moment, then slid the ring onto her slender finger.

"Forgive me," he said, "For not giving you this sooner."

"Adam," Belle breathed, "I can't accept this, you've already given me so much…please, you don't need to spoil me so."

"Your engagement ring is a symbol of my love for you," Adam said, "And so in this one respect I insist you indulge my extravagance."

"A simple rose would be just as good a symbol to me," Belle responded. Adam's eyes swept over her and for an instant the silence between them was pregnant with meaning.

"Do you see the color?" Adam asked her gently.

The ring was a brilliant yellow that even in the moonlight was as radiant as the sun. Belle was not one to long for expensive jewels, but even she could hardly take her eyes off the ring. Belle nodded slowly in response to Adam's question.

"It reminded me of your dress that evening," Adam continued, "You were so beautiful in that golden dress, Belle, and you danced like an angel. That was the night I became yours forever. Now we'll always have a way to look back and remember it."

"Please," Belle said quietly after considering this for a moment, "Stand up, your highness."

"I prefer it when you call me beast," Adam responded, rising and wrapping his arms around his fiancée. Belle slid her hands up his chest and grasped him by his lapels.

"Adam," Belle murmured, leaning in towards him, "Thank you for my ring. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome," Adam responded, smiling gently at her. Belle tugged him into a kiss and Adam's fingers laced through Belle's hair as he returned it and the candlelight danced all around them.

Monsieur D'arque prowled the grounds looking for any sign of the former town hero. Speaking of—he hadn't been entirely honest with Gaston when he had told him he didn't usually leave the asylum in the middle of the night. He was more than willing to do so if it was worth his while. It was surprising how frequently it was worth his while to leave the asylum in the middle of the night. Men wanting to get rid of bothersome wives or mistresses, people wanting to teach a relative a lesson or end a quarrel once and for all and he would happily take them, for a price of course. One thing was for certain—people did not appreciate those who were different and so those who were different came to him.

There was certainly something different about this prince, his castle, the girl Belle, the entire situation. Did they think him a fool? A castle filled with a monster and killer candlesticks and teacups one day and a handsome prince the next? What was more everything looked different…the castle had been darker, sharper, guarded by gargoyles and thick with a heavy sense of foreboding. Even the lands around the castle had changed, they had once been barren and filled with fog and wolves and now were lush and bright with flowers and babbling brooks. The castle didn't seem different because it had been the middle of the night when they attacked, and the surrounding forest wasn't so changed because it was a good spring. No, there was something else happening, something far more powerful.

The hooded figure had paid him good gold to find out what it was. He had been told he would find what he was looking for on the castle grounds. He had also been informed that the prince along with his royal relations and many of the guards had left the castle for Versailles, and so long as he took minimal precautions against getting caught, he would likely pass over the grounds undetected. He supposed the answer to what was really going on would be in the presence or absence of Gaston's remains, and so he searched tirelessly. Or rather, he surveyed the area with arrogance while his henchman prowled the grounds with dogs and lanterns under the cover of night. They could be trusted. They had once been committed to the asylum, but had risen through the ranks of the asylum, distinguished by their cunning and their petty cruelty to their fellow inmates. All he need do was raise them above the squalor and filth of the asylum but a little, and their loyalty was secured.

"Sir," one of them said, a man with a perpetual limp in his step, "We found something."

Monsieur D'arque raised an eyebrow and silently followed his henchman. The man took him a few yards and then pointed toward the ground while holding his lantern aloft. Monsieur D'arque squinted in the darkness, at first feeling irritated that he saw nothing but dirt and weeds. Then, all at once, he saw it half buried in the ground still perfectly intact. The glass caught the light radiating from the lantern and shone like a diamond in the rough. A hand mirror, wrought from silver and adorned with roses.

For a protracted moment, Monsieur D'arque blinked and shifted his weight back, unsure of the significance of what he was seeing. Then he shuffled cautiously toward the object, and grasped it's handle, unearthing the mirror and then brushing the dirt off the glass. He turned it over in his hands and examined it, considering, remembering. He looked again into its face, his eyes calculating.

"Show me the beast," he said. The glass of the mirror fogged and then dutifully displayed an image that caused a grim smile to ghost upon the caretaker's face. He had found what he was looking for.