Author's Note: I'm afraid Belle may be a bit out of character at times, especially towards the end. Suggestions for improving her are welcomed!

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     Starlight glittered in the sliver of night sky that could be seen through the open window, and a beam of silver moonlight crept in and across the floor to give Belle's bedroom a peaceful glow. With a soft, contented sigh, she flopped on her back across the bed, staring at the underside of the canopy without seeing it and drinking in the calming quiet. It had been a busy day. And tomorrow would be even busier.
     At last, Belle sighed again, even more quietly, and pulled herself to her feet. Her soft pink sleeping robe hung open about her perfectly proportioned frame, draped loosely over her satin nightdress. She reached down to turn back the blankets, then climbed wearily into bed, smiling contentedly as she closed her eyes the moment her head touched the soft, fluffy pillow.
     Moments later, Belle's eyes blinked open at the sound of someone coming down the corridor. She had an idea who it was, and when the footsteps stopped outside her door, she was certain. "Come in," she called softly, propping herself up on her elbows.
     The door cracked open, and the candlelight from the corridor silhouetted a form that was still just becoming familiar to her. "I wasn't sure you'd still be awake," he said quietly, nudging the door shut and moving across the floor toward the bed.
     She sat up and smiled at him gently, motioning for him to have a seat. "I'm tired, but it's all right. I'd like the company. Your company," she amended, her voice catching a little.
     He turned away from her long enough to seat himself at the end of the bed, then reached across the blankets to imprison her hands in his. His blue eyes sparkled as he gazed at her. "It's been a long day." He paused for a moment. "Belle. Things…are going to be different now. You…won't mind?"
     Her wise brown eyes looked deeply into his. Her face and voice were serious as she spoke. "I'm in love with you, not the way things were; not the way they will be. Just you."
     He reached up to cup her face in one hand, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb for a moment as he studied her earnest gaze. "Belle," was all he said, looking at her with a disarming half-smile that seemed almost amused. "I love you."
     She glanced down and away, reaching up slowly to cover his hand with hers. Her lips curved slowly upward into a gentle smile. He took her face in both his hands and turned it upward to look into his once more. He leaned in and his mouth brushed hers as one strong hand slipped behind her neck, the other around her waist. Her lips parted under his as she reached up to bury her hands in his thick blond tresses. The kiss seemed to last an eternity and then, breathless, they parted, gazing at each other in stunned silence.
     "Cristophe…" it was only the second time she had tried the name; it still felt odd as she spoke it, her voice and eyes filled with questions.
     He blinked, seemingly in surprise, and cleared his throat before responding. "I—I'll let you get some rest. Tomorrow will be…" his voice trailed off, and he looked away from her, his eyes thoughtful.
     "Our wedding," she finished for him, peering up at him with gentle concern shining in her eyes. "Cristophe. Our wedding."
     "Yes…"
     She read his thoughts in an instant. "I'm afraid, too. It's going to be different. But it's going to be wonderful, too."
     He met her gaze. "You're so sure about everything."
     "No, I'm not. But I do have faith that everything will be all right. I have—hope." She let the word hang in the silent darkness between them. It had meant so much to them—it symbolized everything they'd been through. "And I know you do, too," she added quietly.
     He slowly smiled. "Belle, you are amazing."
     She shook her head at him as a smile spread across her face. "So are you. I wish you knew it." She sighed, then glanced out the window at the full moon. "Go then, sweet. Get some rest. We'll both need it for tomorrow."
     He nodded in agreement, a little grimly it seemed, and leaned in to give her a soft, quick kiss before rising. "Good-night, then."
     "Good-night," she whispered in reply, feeling her voice stick in her throat. "I love you."
     "I love you, too, Belle," he said softly, and then strode from the room without another word. The quiet click of the door behind him punctuated his exit.
     The silence in the darkened room that he left behind was deafening. Belle hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, gazing into the blackness as if searching for answers. She loved him. She knew he loved her. But she also knew that something was wrong, though she had no idea what it could be.
     Suddenly, a golden glow filled the room. Too startled to be truly frightened, Belle blinked and squinted into the unexpected brightness.
     "Belle," a soft, musical voice called.
     "What is it? Who are you?"
     "You don't know me, my dear, but I know you. I've been watching you since you arrived here."
     Belle gasped as her eyes adjusted to the light and she made out the figure of a beautiful woman, young and ancient, kind and terrible. She knew in an instant who it must be. "You—," she started.
     "You know of me, I see," the enchantress smiled sweetly at the stunned young woman.
     "Well, yes."
     "Ah. Don't worry, my dear. I've come to offer—guidance. Nothing more."
     Belle relaxed a little, but remained wary. "Guidance?"
     "Yes, dear. You see, I saw what just happened in this room."
     "Oh. Cristophe…" Belle trailed off, and looked at up at the enchantress helplessly. "Something's wrong, but I don't know what, and I don't know what to do about it."
     "My dear, he is frightened. He has learned to love, but it is new to him, and it frightens him. I fear he thinks he doesn't deserve your love."
     "What—?" Belle simply stared at the enchantress, confusion and frustration flooding her already troubled mind.
     "You must help him, my dear. Help him overcome his fear of what his own heart is telling him. Help him trust in the love you two have—for it is something more powerful than any magic I know, and I know powerful magic—and put this uncertainty behind him."
     "I—I will," Belle said softly, and as abruptly as she had arrived the enchantress vanished, and Belle was again left alone, staring in amazement into the darkness.
     An urgent knocking at the door shattered Belle's trance. "Belle? Belle! Are you all right?" Before she could respond, the door flew open and Cristophe hurried into the room. Belle pulled herself together and hopped out of bed to meet him halfway across the room. He caught her in his arms and searched her face worriedly. "Are you all right? I heard voices…"
     "I'm fine," she assured him, relaxing completely in his protective embrace. "I'm fine." She pressed her face against his chest, delighting in the nearness of him: the feel of his soft cotton shirt against her flushed face; the wild, woodsy scent that was his alone.
     He stroked her hair gently and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I thought…I was afraid…"
     She pulled away enough to look him in the eye. "Don't be. Don't ever, ever be afraid, Cristophe." She drew a deep breath as the enchantress' words came rushing back to her. "Everyone has doubts and worries. But you have to trust in me, in our love. Things will be all right. They may not be perfect—life never is—but they won't be bad. I love you, Cristophe! What more do you need?"
     He looked at her a moment in stunned silence, then cracked a smile and gave a soft, incredulous laugh. "Belle, Belle. What would I do without you?"
     She smiled up at him, nothing but love in her warm brown eyes. "I'm never going to give you a chance to find out." As he leaned closer to her for what would be the purest of kisses, the last shadows of doubt fled the castle forever, banished by the timeless trust of love.