I know that @lumiereswig did something like this a day ago, but I swear, I
don’t mean to plagiarize. I just had this picture and I had this
draft waiting. I already had it planned out, so here it is. Sorry
if it looked like I copied; I had no intention of doing so.
Okay, so if this really is the case, then that would mean that Adam’s
dad probably left on some business trip with some other royals. This
would kind of explain the whole party that Adam throws; he should be
a young adult in the prologue, and young adults are stereotyped to
throw huge parties when their parents go on trips for work/other
And that’s not all; I honestly think that if the king was still alive
and cursed to forget the castle…well, I think it would be a healing
experience for him. So, without further ado, here are the headcanons
I have surrounding this idea/AU.
The king was just as affected by the queen’s cheerfulness as everyone
else; she was a shining light in his otherwise dark life. When she
died from a sickness, the king irrationally blamed Adam. My
reasoning behind this is this
video. Instead of it just being a deleted scene, I like to think
that it actually happened. Adam was sick with the same illness, and
the queen would spend time in his room with him, singing to him and
saying soothing things. Adam healed, but a few months later, the
same illness struck the queen.
And this is the reason why the king twisted Adam’s kind nature
around after the queen died, because while being the cause of her
death, he also reminded the king of her. And that only hurt even
While the king was away, he, like everyone else, forgot about the
castle, but he remembered his wife. (I like to think that the king
was important enough to have another castle somewhere that he
believed was his home; to be king and to be homeless would be really
confusing to people.)
And over time, he realized he was a rather bitter man, and he never
knew why. He thought that it was because his wife died of an illness
and that they could never track down the source of the illness.
But soon, it started to dawn on him that because he was so bitter
over his wife’s death, his memories of her were starting to dim and
cloud over; he wasn’t remembering her the way she should be
remembered. So he decides to start treating his people the way she
would have, so she could still live on in his heart and his people’s
hearts. And slowly, but surely, it starts to rub off on him. He
becomes more forgiving of his servants, casts a softer eye on his
peers, and allows himself a smile every so often (that was the
hardest part; remembering how to smile).
And one morning, he’s sitting in his room, reminiscing about the way
the queen used to smile at sunrises like these, when he remembers
another smiling face, a child, with the golden light playing across
his face. And suddenly the curse is lifted, and the last few years
of his life crash down on him as he remembers the real reason why he
was such a bitter man—it was Adam, he blamed his own son for
something that obviously wasn’t his fault; he could see that now.
And he hates himself. He feels remorse, regret, horror at what he
did to his own son, how he twisted Adam over and over again, erased
his own mother’s wonderful influences from him. He hates himself for
forgetting—because the poor boy’s been alone all this time—but he
hates himself even more for his treatment of Adam.
Suddenly, he has to see him. The king calls for a carriage to the
castle; he wants to see his son, apologize, tell him he loves him—oh
Lord, it’s been more than a decade since he’s done that…
And by midday he reaches the castle and sees the villagers all
crowded around it. It would have angered him originally, but instead
he runs through them, asking frantically for Adam, the prince, my
son, where is he
And he sees him from afar, coming out of the castle. He tries to get
through to him, but the villagers have crowded around him. He
contemplates pushing through them, but waits, because he sees Lumiere
embracing him. Embracing him! From what the king remembered, Adam
never allowed the servants to touch him unless it was absolutely
necessary. And then Mrs. Potts’ son, Christopher, is hugging a girl
next to Adam who shares the same smile, and the way that
the gaze into each other’s eyes…there’s no mistaking it, they’re in
love. She’s dressed rather simply—in white, but simply—she must
be a villager. But that hardly matters to him anymore.
And then Adam’s eyes sweep across the crowd, shining with tears, and
oh, she’s there, the queen’s there, his eyes are hers, filled with
all of her wonder and joy. His heart immediately lifts; he has
still managed to hold on to his mother. But there is still how he
has treated him, and that is still unforgivable. So after a few
hours, the king approaches him, and the interaction goes a little
something like this:
It isn’t the word that’s spoken; he hadn’t been called by his name in
years, not even by the staff, and the mention of his name should
bring him joy, relief that he’s not cursed anymore. No, it’s the
voice that spoke, the voice that made every word, and every name, a
He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to face him.
He was the one part of his past that he would be happy to
forget, happy to shove underneath the memories of his empty life of
luxury. The bruises, the tears, the darkened rooms full of anger and
hatred, all are forced to the forefront of his mind.
He can even feel the staff’s reactions around him; they way they all
stop talking reminds him too much of how they walked through the
halls when he was little, how they had gone from friendly to faceless
upon this man’s orders.
This man. Adam refuses to call him his kin.
But then something else happens, something that—even after all of
his time with these people—he does not expect. They draw close to
him. Lumiere lays his hand on his shoulder, offering support.
Chapeau hovers nearby, his hands clenched, his expression protective.
Cogsworth is still weighed down by Clothilde, but he shoots the king
a look of warning. The king does not meet their eyes. Mrs. Potts
breaks off from her husband and starts toward Adam, laying her hand
in the one that is not grasping Belle’s. And Chip soon follows,
though he is half-hiding behind his mother’s skirts.
Then there is a squeeze on his other hand, and Belle’s eyes meet his,
She is fearless. She does not know what he’s been through—what a
kind, loving father she has—but he can see her strength there. She
risked life and limb to see him, to heal him. What is he if he
cannot face his own fears?
He tries to keep his face neutral as he turns around to see a man
shouldering his way through the throngs of moving villagers. His
jacket is much simpler than the extravagant ones Adam remembers, and
he doesn’t wear a wig. His hair has gone gray, and his eyes have
lost their dull, flat look. He stops a few feet from Adam, and Adam
cannot place his expression.
His voice, again, makes every nerve in Adam’s body want to flinch
away, but he held tight to Belle’s hand and closed his eyes as the
man came closer. His hand came up slowly, and though it was not
sudden, the memory of that gloved hand against his cheek…no. If
Belle could face the worst in Adam, then Adam could face it too.
“My boy…my son…”
And suddenly his hand is on Adam’s cheek, but how is it his?
His touch is so gentle, so
kind, and his eyes, as soft and forgiving as newly laid earth, are
filled with tears.
“Look at you. You’ve
grown so much…I can’t believe I didn’t realize…” His hand is
shaking on Adam’s cheek, so he moves it to Adam’s shoulder. He can’t
meet Adam’s eyes anymore; he bows his head, trembling. Scared.
“Your mother, she…she
would have been so proud of you,” he continues. “As am I. And…I
don’t know how I can begin to ask forgiveness…for the horrible,
horrible things I’ve
done to you…”
Adam has one memory of the king’s
smile. It was years ago, when his mother was still alive. She and
Adam had been in the garden, picking flowers for a bouquet for the
king’s birthday. Adam had put together a bundle of different colored
roses, carnations, and baby’s breath and ran back to the castle to
give them to the king. And he had laughed, and smiled, and patted
him on the head. He had cared for it until the flowers began to
wilt, and even after that.
This is the man that Adam sees now.
He used to think this man was dead. But
here he is, with more wrinkles on his hands and a lined face that has
suffered a lot more than it used to let on. Here he is.
The man wrapped his arms around his
son, his tears now prominent in his hitching breath, his clutching
fingers. “Adam…I love you, I h-haven’t said that e-enough, but I
do, and I will…”
Adam lets go of Belle’s hand and
returns the embrace, albeit with a little hesitancy. It will take
time, to adjust to this, but even so, his heart is above the clouds,
in both shock and joy. A little of his old life has been given back
to him because of this.