The Viking Fight
  • Adam : ouch! I got hit in the eyebrow!
  • Kenny : me too! ow!
  • Producers : oh, poor kenny! this injury is so serious, lets put it in all the promos and make everyone feel bad for him! maybe they'll think he got in a fight bc he's so cool! oh, Kenny-
  • Adam : wow thanks

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. Anyway…

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 stuff.

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 more.
  • 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 curse.

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, concerned, worried.

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.

And as of right now, he is not going to let go.


the balloon squad; bom bidi bom