“Gaston! No!”
Belle’s cry warned the Beast. He turned to see Gaston, spire lifted high, readying to strike the death blow. The Beast had had enough. He was not going to let Gaston stop him from reaching Belle, not when he was that close. In one swift move, he reached up and yanked the spire from Gaston’s hands. Then he hurled it against the far wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces. Snarling, the Beast wrapped his paw around Gaston’s throat and swung him over the edge of the crumbling footbridge.
“No,” Gaston pleaded as his legs dangled in open air. “Please. Don’t hurt me, Beast. I’ll do anything.”
For a long, tense moment, the Beast just stared at Gaston. The Beast’s features were twisted with rage and hate—for all the years he had been trapped in that form; for the man in front of him, who could see him only as a beast; for the time he had already lost with Belle and the fear that he might lose still more.
Then his rage and hate began to fade. Turning, he saw Belle looking at them, hope in her eyes. It seemed she believed he could do the right thing, that he could be the best version of himself. And suddenly, the rage and hate were gone. Slowly, he swung Gaston back over the bridge’s wall and set him down. “Go,” he said. “Get out.”
As Gaston scrambled away, the Beast turned and locked eyes with Belle. In that moment, he didn’t need to hear her to know she was proud of him. All he wanted, more than anything in the world, was to be next to Belle. Dropping down on all fours, he took a deep breath. He had just enough distance to get his speed up to make a leap from the bridge to the balcony—and Belle.
Seeing what he was about to do, Belle shouted, “No! It’s too far!”
But she was too late. The Beast’s hind claws dug into the stone and he pushed off. Gaining speed, his four paws pounded over the stone. And then…he leapt.
For a moment, he seemed to hover in the air, suspended over the abyss of emptiness between the castle’s roofs. Then time sped up, and with a thud he landed safely on the balcony. Looking at Belle, he smiled. He had made it! Nothing could keep him from Belle now….
Boom!
The Beast roared in agony as the sound of gunfire echoed over the castle.
On the crumbling footbridge, Gaston reloaded the rifle. He had grabbed it from where it had been hidden among the rubble. As Belle watched, hopeless, he aimed the gun once more, an evil grin spreading across his face.
Boom! He fired again. The bullet flew through the air and slammed into the Beast, who fell to the ground.
But Gaston’s luck had just run out. His weight, the decay of the footbridge, and the heavy recoil of the rifle proved too much. Before he could even let out a triumphant shout, the stones beneath his feet gave way completely. In an instant, there was only empty air—and a long drop into nothingness—under him.
Lifting her head, Belle saw Gaston—and his horrible rifle—disappear in a cascade of stones.
BELLE WANTED TO BELIEVE EVERYTHING would be okay, that the Beast would be okay. But as she sat, his head cradled in her lap, she knew time was running out. It had already run out for Gaston, though that had caused her only a momentary pang of regret. He had been a horrible man. While she never would have wished his fate on anyone, she would not bother to waste tears or time on his memory.
The Beast, though, was another story. She didn’t want him to become a memory. She wanted him to stay there, with her, alive and well. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for inadvertently sending Gaston to the castle in the first place. Yet looking down at him, she knew that her chance to do that was quickly slipping away. The Beast’s breathing was labored and his eyes were shut tight, the pain clearly overwhelming his body. Softly, Belle reached down and ran her fingers along his cheek.
When the Beast felt her touch, his eyes opened. “You came back,” he said, looking at her with pure love. He lifted his paw and brushed back a lock of Belle’s hair.
“Of course I came back,” she said, trying to fight the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks. “I’ll never leave you again.”
The Beast lifted his shoulders in the slightest shrug. Then he sighed. “I’m afraid it’s my turn to leave,” he said, his voice weak.
Belle shook her head. No! she wanted to shout. Fight! Don’t just give up! Not after all we’ve been through. It took me so long to find you. Despite her best efforts, the tears began to fall. The Beast’s head was growing heavier in her lap. As she stared down at him, she felt her heart already breaking. Against the odds, the Beast had shown her true beauty. He had shown her it was okay to be different. He had shown her it was okay to feel lost and made her realize how desperately she had wanted to be found. She had learned that things were not always what they seemed, that people could surprise you. He had given her the one thing she had always longed for—something more. And now? Now he was dying in her arms.
Struggling for words, Belle choked back a sob. “We’re together now,” she said. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
“At least I got to see you one last time,” he said. As he spoke, his paw dropped from Belle’s hair. His eyes closed. His breathing grew slower, and then it stopped altogether.
With another sob, Belle threw herself over the Beast’s still body. He was gone. And she had never told him she loved him.
As the Beast took his last breath on the terrace above, his staff members, unaware of what had happened between their master and Gaston, were in the middle of a celebration. They had all gathered on one of the lower terraces to watch as the villagers ran off through the woods. Lumiere’s flames were shining bright, buoyed by victory. Plumette had fluffed her feathers, and Cogsworth was ticking and tocking at a much faster rate than usual. Even the larger pieces of furniture, like Garderobe and her long-lost love, Cadenza, had made their way out to celebrate.
Lumiere turned to Plumette and took her in his arms. The feather duster giggled flirtatiously. “We did it, Plumette,” he said, dipping her. “Victory is ours!” He leaned down to kiss her and gasped. She had grown still and silent in his arms. She was no longer alive. With the Beast gone, the curse had taken full effect.
One by one, the once animate objects grew inanimate. As Lumiere watched in horror, Garderobe froze in the middle of a theatrical flourish. Letting out a shout, Cadenza began to play his keys, frantic to keep them moving. But there was nothing he could do. They, too, slowed until, finally, they stopped and Cadenza became still. The curse swept through the castle like a wind, and no matter how they tried to escape it, the staff could not get away.
Froufrou barked one last time before turning back into a piano stool. Mrs. Potts frantically approached Lumiere and Cogsworth, searching for her son. But before she could find him, her face disappeared in the painted ornamentation of the teapot. Chip became still next, his features fading away until he no longer resembled a precocious little boy and was just a chipped teacup.
“Lumiere…”
Hearing Cogsworth’s voice, Lumiere turned, dreading the inevitable. The little clock was struggling against the curse, trying his hardest to keep ticking. “No!” Lumiere cried. “Hang on, Cogsworth.”
“I…can’t…” Cogsworth said, his voice growing weak. He gave a long, slow tick and an even slower tock. “My friend, it was an honor to serve with you.”
Lumiere lowered his flames as Cogsworth’s voice faded completely. The only sound he made now was the ticktock of a small clock. He was no longer the majordomo. He was an object. And as Lumiere looked around, he saw that they were all objects now. No one but him was left. Lumiere knew that up in the master’s lair, the last rose petal had fallen. A moment later he, too, stiffened and the light faded from his candles as his final transformation took place.
Soon the terrace was quiet except for the ticking of the clock that had once been Cogsworth. A soft snow began to fall, covering the objects and making them look like ghosts.
Up on the balcony, Belle barely noticed the snow falling o
n her head and shoulders. She didn’t know that the curse had been enacted. All she could think about was the Beast, lying in her arms. His body still felt warm, and for a desperate moment, she wanted to believe that he was still there. She cradled his head in her hands. His fur felt soft in her palms and she wanted to force his eyes open so she could once again see them, the most beautiful blue she had ever known, staring back at her. “Please, don’t leave me. Come back,” she begged. Overcome with emotion, she slowly leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. And then, because she had never said it to him while he was alive, she whispered the words she had been carrying in her heart: “I love you.”
Though Belle did not know it, Agathe had silently entered the room and was standing on the balcony next to what was left of the enchanted rose. The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and extended her hand toward the bell jar. In an instant, the jar disappeared, leaving behind the crimson petals and a trace of golden dust. Agathe swirled her hand and the petals rose. The golden dust seemed to multiply, moving rapidly toward the Beast, enveloping him entirely before lifting him off the ground.
Feeling the weight of the Beast’s body lift from her lap, Belle looked up and gasped, seeing the golden haze swirling around his body. She noticed that the air felt warmer, thicker. Then, quite suddenly, there was a flash of light, and one of the Beast’s paws turned into a hand. Belle stood, watching intently.
More bursts of light followed as the rest of the Beast’s features turned into human ones. Finally, he landed softly on the ground, the transformation complete.
Silence fell over the balcony.
For a long moment, Belle stood where she was, her head spinning with what she had just witnessed. She stared in awe at the man standing in front of her. He was still wearing the clothes he had worn as the Beast. He had the same piercing blue eyes, though they were now wide and filled with concern as they looked upon her tear-stained face.
Belle’s heart felt like it would burst with joy. She knew, deep in her soul, that this was the Beast she had grown to love, once again in his human form. And she knew, without hesitation, that she didn’t want to waste another moment not being close to the one she loved. Blue eyes met brown, and then, as dawn broke over the horizon, they leaned forward and kissed.
It was a kiss Belle would never forget—one better than any in all the books she had read. It was a kiss full of apology, full of thankfulness, and full of deep, deep love. It was a kiss full of enchantment. And as their lips met, that magic exploded from them to the rest of the castle.
As the sun rose higher into the sky, the castle began to transform. The cold gray stone became awash with gold. The snow faded from the ground, giving way to bright green grass. Colorful flowers burst forth, and in the colonnade, the white roses turned red. Up on the parapets of the castle, the gargoyle statues, their faces so long stuck in frightening sneers, returned to their original forms of noble beasts and men. Even the sky seemed touched by the magical transformation. Clouds disappeared, revealing a sky almost as brilliant blue as the Prince’s eyes.
Inside the castle, the transformation continued. As the light from the dawn filtered through the large windows, it illuminated the objects that had, only moments before, been rendered immobile. Froufrou turned from a piano bench back into a tiny bichon frise. Immediately, he leapt up and chased his tail before going to relieve himself on the immobile coatrack, who, as luck would have it, turned back into a man just as Froufrou finished his business. Shooing him away, the valet turned and almost tripped over the trolley cart holding Mrs. Potts and Chip.
He shouted as it started to roll away, barely missing Garderobe, who was waddling in and out of the sunlight. As she did, she turned from wardrobe to human to wardrobe again until, finally, she landed with a thud right next to Cadenza. Moments later, they both transformed once and for all back into the diva and the maestro.
And so it continued. Throughout the castle, excited cries could be heard coming from all over as the curse was lifted. Maids giggled as their feathers turned back into legs, and candles shouted happily as their wicks turned back into fingers. In the kitchen the stove became the chef again and immediately began giving orders to prepare a feast.
Cogsworth’s ticks became a series of coughs as he, too, transformed back into his human shape. Brushing off his coat, he looked around for Lumiere and smiled when he saw that the candelabrum was once more head footman—but still up to his old tricks. He was chasing Plumette around the dining room table. Catching her, he dipped her back and kissed her passionately.
Cogsworth was saved from witnessing how long the kiss went on by the rattling sound of china. He looked up to see the trolley carrying Mrs. Potts and Chip barreling toward the top of the staircase. For a tense moment, it looked like they might tumble to their doom. But as Cogsworth watched, the trolley jerked to a stop, sending Mrs. Potts and Chip flying forward. Midair, as their fragile bodies hit the sun, they transformed, and they slid down the rest of the stairs on their very human posteriors.
“Oh, Chip!” Mrs. Potts cried happily. “Look at you—you’re a little boy again!” Reaching out, she tried to give his cheek a squeeze. He ducked out of the way, like any little human boy would, and raced toward the front door. As he flung it open, the sun poured in—and so did some of the villagers.
For truth be told, they had been under the enchantment, too. Now, with every moment that passed, they were beginning to remember all they had forgotten: the castle with the cruel king and the haughty prince, the lavish parties that had once been thrown, their loved ones who had worked there.
Approaching the front door, Jean the potter took in the castle, which now glowed with happiness and warmth. And then his eyes fell on Chip in the doorway and, beyond, Mrs. Potts. He shouted happily, “Darling?”
Mrs. Potts smiled back. “Hello, Mr. Potts,” she said, running toward him.
“Beatrice, Chip,” he said as his wife and son fell into his arms. “I’ve found you.”
The reunions continued. And standing in front of the castle, smiling to herself, was Agathe. She had only ever wanted to see the Prince become a kinder man. And as she watched his happy staff members run about the castle, calling out to one another, hugging one another, she knew that he had found a way to be kind. He had found his heart. It had taken some time and one particularly stubborn young woman to help him do it, but nevertheless, he had found his way.
Seeing that her work was done, Agathe smiled and turned, leaving as silently and mysteriously as she had arrived.
Meanwhile, Plumette let out a shout. Everyone turned toward the staircase. At the top, as if on cue, stood the Prince. Belle was beside him, and their eyes were locked in a look of pure love. The staff rushed to greet them.
“Hello, old friend.” The Prince addressed Lumiere happily. Belle watched the Prince embrace each member of the staff—of his family, really—allowing him the moment that had been so long in the making. She sighed contentedly. All was as it should be.
BELLE HAD NOT THOUGHT IT possible to be that happy. But she was that happy. Deliriously, wonderfully, blissfully happy.
Gliding across the ballroom in her prince’s arms, she smiled as they passed faces now so familiar to her. She saw her father, free and healthy. She caught sight of Lumiere and Plumette dancing nearby. She saw Chip, wedged between his mother and father, pretending to be annoyed but clearly loving the attention. Cogsworth was there, as was the diva, Belle’s former wardrobe. She waltzed happily with her maestro. This, Belle thought as she gazed around the room, is my family.
She lifted her head, and her eyes met the Prince’s piercing blue ones. He smiled down at her and she felt the now familiar warmth of love shoot through her whole body, starting at her toes and traveling to the tips of her ears. Over the past few weeks, she had found herself loving the Prince more with each passing day as she watched him embrace the life that had been denied him for so long.
I’m living my own adventure, she thought as he swung he
r around. She had found a life outside the village, and there were still so many places to visit and experiences to be had. What’s more, she had found a partner who wanted to travel, as well, a partner with whom she could share all these adventures. And there is nothing more I could ever want. Except…
Feeling Belle tense in his arms, the Prince looked at her, his eyes narrow with worry. “Belle…” he said. “What are you thinking?”
Belle took a moment to consider her answer and tried not to smile as the Prince’s expression grew more worried. Then, reaching up, she ran a hand down his smooth cheek. “How would you feel about growing a beard?”
Letting out a roar of laughter, the Prince pulled Belle closer. His eyes locked with hers and he nodded, an unspoken promise to always try to be the best version of himself, the version she had believed was possible before he had. Then, leaning in, he kissed her. And as she closed her eyes and gave in to the magic of the kiss, the world faded away until it felt as if it were just the two of them, caught up in a tale as old as time. Belle thought about the future—about the reading classes she could teach in the castle library for all the village students, the traveling she and the Prince would make time for, the friendships with those in the castle that would undoubtedly be lifelong. A tale that had begun once upon a time and would end, Belle knew, happily ever after.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Epilogue
Beauty and the Beast Novelization Page 13