Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle, and although he had almost everything his heart desired, the prince was callous, hubristic, and worst of all: ruthless.
But then, one winter’s night, an old beggar woman from the village below came to the castle, and offered a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance and wilting garments, the prince turned the old woman away, but she warned him not to be absorbed by status, for true worth is something you cannot afford to lose.
When he dismissed her again, the old woman’s robes melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress, with fluxes of golden hair and sparkling eyes the hue of emeralds.
The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart.
As punishment, she banished him into complete isolation, and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who entered, seldom a soul or lowly servant to distract from his sickening psychosis. He couldn’t even bring himself to use the accursed mirror the enchantress had given him, watching his fellow nobles be married into families that were wealthy with repute.
The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his 21st year. If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return before the last petal fell, the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain in solitude for all time.
As the years passed by, along with each of his former companions, the prince fell into despair, and lost all hope. For how could he ever learn to love a provincial?
—
The wind howled and gnawed at Gaston’s fingers as he lowered himself from the window. As his hand left the shutters, a particularly rancorous gust of wind slammed them shut, almost as if it wanted all of the tavern's patrons to hear him being humiliated again.
As if hearing his own thoughts, he heard an abrupt knock on the door.
A muffled voice faintly trailed after, saying, “Gaston? Are you in there? I wasn’t sure if-“
It was horribly apparent who the voice was. He silently cursed as he pulled himself back up and through the window, nearly slipping again in the process.
“Yes Lefou, I’m here. What is it.” he said as he closed the window, making sure to keep his voice loud as possible in order to cover up the forceful thud of the panel.
Lefou unceremoniously peeked his head through the entrance of the bedroom (which Gaston had been so sure he’d locked), with an expression that was almost annoyingly unbothered, given what Gaston had to go through only hours before.
“Well?” Gaston said aggravatedly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the now closed window, the only evidence that he wasn’t just trying to go to bed.
Fully stepping through the door, Lefou presented a pair of boots, his boots, the only things left unblemished after the incident of the afternoon.
Gaston looked at them with distaste. He’d hardly remembered or even cared about them as he stormed off, soaked in mud. It probably would’ve been easier to do without just his socks…
As he testily picked the boots up, Lefou said, “I think you forgot them at- uh, well you know. Stanley brought them here after-“
“Yeah, thanks. Now leave, I’m…busy.” Gaston interrupted offhandedly.
“Oh, right. Uh, sleep tight?” Lefou said carefully, as if one wrong move would set the entire room aflame.
“And if you wanna-“ he started, before Gaston pushed him through the door, letting out an annoyed groan once it was shut again.
He regarded the boots with a frown. They were his best pair, it’s the entire reason he’d chosen to wear them in the first place. Without giving it a second thought, he slipped them on and made his way back out the window as quickly as he had upon reentering.
His breath coiled into the chilled air as he made contact with stable ground again. He took a moment to distractedly run a hand through his loosened hair. It was fine. After tonight, the events of the afternoon would just seem like a bad dream. Gaston could win over Belle easily, he just had to be strategic about it. He’d always liked the thrill of the chase after all.
Stalking away from the scene he was a part of moments before, he allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction for his ingenious plan. He’d told everyone that he would just “sleep off” his rejection…right before sneaking out of his own bedroom window.
As he mounted onto his horse, Gaston calculated how his entreatment to Belle would play out: He’d forgive her for the demeaning display of the afternoon, she’d realize her mistake and leave the house in his arms.
It would’ve been simpler to just walk to Belle’s house than on horseback, but Gaston was gratified by the heroism of it all.
Apparently he’d been too engrossed in his plot however, as he’d nearly missed Belle on the distant hill as he arrived. She was accompanied by her horse that was attached to an…empty cart? He quickly urged his horse on before she could get onto her own.
“What are you doing out here all alone?” Gaston said as he jumped down from the saddle of his steed.
“Oh, Gaston. Yes, I am alone. My father is…missing. He left for the inventor’s fair just before noon, and now Phillipe’s returned without him.” Belle responded, barely even glancing his way as she talked. She seemed so concerned, when in reality the old loon probably just wandered off into the forest by himself.
“…Is that so? How unfortunate.” Gaston said in the most sympathetic tone he could muster. As much as he wanted to tell Belle that was probably to be expected of Maurice, he reminded himself that he needed to stick to his plan. As long as he remained his usual charming self, everything would sort itself out.
Belle started to turn away.
“Surely you’re not going out there by yourself,” Gaston said almost incredulously, “you need someone who knows the forest, who knows what’s out there.”
Her eyes flitted as if she was visualizing the benefits (or lack thereof) of the next words that came out of her mouth. As if she was actually considering not accepting his help.
“..Alright then.” she finally responded with a sigh.
“Perfect!” he responded, completely ignoring her exhalation. He made an attempt to help Belle onto her horse, but she’d brushed right past him and hoisted herself up, like he didn’t exist.
But Gaston didn’t have time to be resentful, not when he was so close to his goal. It seemed Belle didn’t either, as she was already starting ahead (again), forcing Gaston to urge his horse on faster in order to reach her again.
—
He had offered to lead, but Belle insisted that the horse of all things knew where to go. As if he didn’t know those damn woods better than any man, let alone an animal.
The rest of the journey was silent, seemingly stretching on forever, which Gaston soon realized was because he actually didn’t know where they were going. It was becoming dark out, which normally wouldn’t be a problem, if not for the current conditions. It was all…unfamiliar. The atmosphere was heavy, and there was an undeniable chill in the air, almost chilling enough to make him shiver. Gaston soon realized it might not have been from the cold, which was even more unfamiliar. Not like a little bit of the unknown could dishearten him though, right?
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of something foreboding, like something didn’t want him to succeed with his magnificent plan.
Just as he was about to open his mouth to suggest turning around, Belle's horse, or “Philippe” as she’d clarified, had abruptly stopped. It was apparently a sign that they had made it to their destination, because Belle almost immediately descended upon their halting.
Although he’d rather not admit it (at least not in front of Belle), as he dismounted Gaston sensed a bit of reluctance stirring within him. They were out in the middle of nowhere, with not a trace of civilization in sight. To give credit to the horse, they had actually arrived…somewhere. Even more unnerving was the fact that he wasn’t even sure he’d ever come across this part of the forest before (a very difficult feat). Gaston felt the now familiar sense of unfamiliarity stirring within him, which wasn’t helped by the grotesque architecture before him.
There were two towering stone walls framing an eerily decorated gate, stretching so high he could barely see its summit disappear into the looming fog above.
It was a perfect opportunity.
Immediately forgetting about all his own (failed) attempts at calming his own nerves, Gaston pretended to evaluate if he should scale the crumbling bars of the gate (he was going to do it anyway). Belle seemed to be evaluating something on her own. A fruitless endeavor, really.
“No need to worry, I can get over that gate easily-“
His quip was cut off by a screeching sound of metal grating into itself. Belle was already on the other side, staring at him like he’d just said something idiotic.
“The bars seem to have been made quite a long time ago, maybe even by a decade or so. I thought it would be easier than…climbing.” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Problem is that it was.
He desperately wanted to make a comment about how he could’ve broken the bars regardless, or how climbing could have worked. Who cared if it was “easier” anyway? He didn’t like things “easy” did he? If he did, he wouldn’t have followed belle on this stupid search-
Suddenly Belle spoke up, ripping him from his misguidings, reminding him of his goal.
“I think we should head inside-“
He trudged past the gate and Belle, hardly even considering acknowledging what she said. Her comment was so obvious anyway, wasn’t it? The sooner this was over, the better. He didn’t know how long his patience could last like this, having everything go the opposite of his way. It was unheard of, really. Almost as if a mysterious omen were hanging over his head, threatening something else to go awry for him at any moment.
Before he could continue his disdain for the whole situation, however, a horrific castle came into view, stretching even higher than its own gate. Gaston wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. Almost as if the castle itself didn’t want to be noticed…
Absent-mindedly, he noticed that Belle had also been enraptured by the gloating towers of the scene somewhere near him.
Noiselessly they continued forward across the endless cobbled path, which bridged over a gushing river below. Somewhat involuntarily, Gaston scaled how far the fall was. “I could probably survive that…” he assured himself, although there was no reasonable basis in it whatsoever.
After an eternity they finally arrived at the base of the castle, which was on theme for what they had seen thus far; the doors were almost illogically tall. Not even a handle to knock against them. Well, not that Gaston would’ve knocked anyway. This was where a man was supposedly being imprisoned, they hardly deserved the privilege of a heads-up.
Surprisingly, it appeared that Belle felt the same way, as she was opening one of the grand doors and peeking into the cavernous room ahead. It seemed to be the first thing they’d unintentionally agreed upon during the entire ordeal. He decided to follow after her as the door clambered shut behind them.
“Hello?-“
“MAURICE?! ARE YOU IN HERE?” Gaston shouted almost immediately after entering.
Belle turned, an inexplicably perturbed expression on her face.
“Don’t shout! You can’t-“
“Why shouldn’t I? You want to find your father don’t you?” he interrupted, feeling himself also becoming annoyed.
“Of course I do, but you can’t just walk into someone’s home uninvited and act this way!”
Her tone was strange, almost…accusatory. Gaston never heard her actually speak up against him in such a direct way, although her actions might’ve told a different story. “Home?” this place looked practically abandoned, meaning she must’ve been thinking of…something else entirely.
The realization didn’t do anything to help his temper.
“Is this about what happened this afternoon? Because you weren’t exactly a hospitable host either-“ he started, his annoyance edging the borders of actual anger.
Belle cut him off, an uncharacteristic glint of frustration in her eyes.
“Yes it’s about this afternoon! I still can’t understand how you thought that was appropriate. How you thought…that I would ever marry you.”
There was a distant clanging sound nearing them, but it was drowned out by the sound of Gaston’s blood rushing through him.
“How you would marry me? My proposal was a service to you! No one else in the town would’ve wedded you, with all your-“
“Wait wait…” Belle interjected, as if she wasn’t the one who started this whole mess.
“What?!”
“Do you hear that? I think it’s getting…closer.”
He would’ve been far more concerned with how Belle interrupted him, or how his words apparently had no effect on her…if a sound wasn’t actually closing in on them.
He had been (unsurprisingly) right before; it was definitely the sound of metal. Almost in a march like rhythm, one that was uncomfortably close now. Despite this, Gaston couldn’t help but make a biting remark from the argument before.
“Are you really trying to distract me from-“
His words this time were not cut off by Belle this time, but by a sharp pain in the back of his head. It hadn’t completely disoriented him, which was a relief, but it had blurred his vision, which was an immense hindrance.
On top of that, Gaston had realized just how dark it really was inside of the castle, which also didn’t help his now obstructed vision. “Who would even live in a place like this without any damn lights.” he uselessly pondered.
“Stop, please just LET US OUT! Who are these people?!” he heard Belle say as she uselessly struggled somewhere in the blackened distance.
As Gaston grappled more, he noticed the coldness of his captor’s hold; it also seemed to be metal. A pointless conjecture at the moment, but it wasn’t as if it was any discouragement to him. As he aimed a swing directly where he assumed the man’s head would be, Gaston felt the usual surge of satisfaction he’d come to know, like he knew he was going to succeed.
There seemed to be a myriad of them. That was good. It just meant that his aim had a higher chance of clashing with someone, or something.
Before his hit could make contact however, he was suddenly met with a now overwhelming heat in his skull, accompanied by an unpleasant ringing. He felt the darkness enveloping his vision, along with a now familiar sense of shame. Distantly he thought he could faintly hear Belle's voice ring with…concern?
“She didn’t seem to be very concerned when she let me fall into that pig’s wallow…” he told himself ruefully. Ironic that his last thought would be his gripe with Belle, seeing as he was currently fading out of consciousness for the sake of her. He hadn’t even gotten to put up much of a fight…
Oh well, at least he’d died a hero, right?
…
Except, he wasn’t dead. Not yet at least.
His head ached, and as he slowly came to he realized it was probably from the two unfortunate jabs he’d suffered from the back. So they liked to play dirty? “How stupid..” he vengefully thought to himself as he rubbed where the injury should’ve been, judging by the pain.
He had woken up in what looked like a cell he eventually realized, seemingly fitted to hold incorrigible criminals with its wrought iron limbs and stone frame; not someone like him.
As his usual unimpaired vision came back to him, he glared out the barred window of the door, he looked around at the countless other cells surrounding his own, each equally as cold and dreary as the next.
There was a single torch mounted to one of the pillars, which casted ghastly shadows over the entire scene, and served as the lone source of light in the cavernous room. Gaston let out a remorseful groan. Not a damn thing to get himself out with…
Suddenly, amidst the eerie silence he heard…a cough? No, it was unmistakably a cough, but who could it possibly be from? Was there another prisoner with him in the prison?-
Oh. Belle. Right. He decided to blame his slowness on his injuries. Still the thought itself surprised him. Why hadn’t she just run away? Well, he supposed she simply couldn’t out run whoever their captors, not like he could anyhow (if they hadn’t gotten the jump on him that is). Nonetheless, he was still surprised she hadn’t at least said something during however long they’d been in there. Judging by the light barely peering through the only window to the outside world, it couldn’t have been more than an hour.
He peered out of the door’s opening again, as he said, “Belle?!? Are you also in-“
But before Gaston could finish, a jarring sound interrupted from the darkness, causing him to stare deeply into it, trying to locate where the noise came from. The torch had been ripped from the socket on the wall, its light left flickering, almost in fear of its new holder.
His eyes just barely made out a stark figure, with a face almost entirely hidden, save for a sliver of light that dared make itself known on the unblemished plane. This was what his foreboding was warning him against, no doubt.
He heard a cool voice ring out near the light.
“Who are you?”
What the hell kind of question is that?