A deer bent down to lap up the river water, its movements graceful as a ballet dancer performing an arabesque. The babbling brook was the only thing that made a sound. Even the leaves were silent and still. Gaston held his breath, squinting his eyes at the deer with his blunderbuss pointed at it.
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It was getting slightly chilly, but he refused to wear a coat. In his mind, he didn’t need it. He was strong enough to handle the cold. However, a part of him knew that he simply didn’t want to wear any reminder of Belle’s rejection.
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Ah, Belle. The ultimate beauty. The only one he deserved. The demoness who just this afternoon refused-
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‘There you are!’
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The deer ran away and Gaston spun towards Lefou, picking up the short man off the ground. As he yelled at him, he shook him.
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‘What are you doing, you idiot?’
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In the process of shaking him, Gaston had pulled Lefou’s face close to him. Lefou’s face took on a strange expression, one Gaston could not read.
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‘S-sorry, Gaston! I won’t do it again!’
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Gaston dropped Lefou, who dived headfirst into the ground. Upon looking up at the now-orange sky, Gaston groaned. He had only managed to catch several animals that day, much less than his record. Not that he had planned on hunting that day. The lack of Belle’s presence simply emptied up his schedule for the afternoon.
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As he got up on his steed, he saw another horse racing through the forest, a covered wagon trailing behind it. It took him a second, but he eventually recognised the horse as belonging to that crazy old man Maurice. He got off his horse and ran to Maurice’s, grabbing it by the reins with enough strength to prevent the agitated creature from running away.
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The horse looked at him with suspicion but turned back around so that Gaston could hop on. Lefou pushed himself off the ground and stared at the horse.
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‘What’s it trying to do?’
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Gaston stepped closer to the horse and looked into its large, frightened eyes. ‘Looks like Crazy Old Maurice needs some help,’ he said with a snicker. At first, he planned on leaving the horse alone.
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He pictured Belle thanking him for saving her father and accepting his ring. His smile grew and his deep laughter almost resembled that of a villain. ‘And someone needs to be the hero.’
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He jumped onto the horse and let it lead the way. After twenty or so minutes, he reached for a riding crop to speed up the process and remembered that it was in his bag with the other horse… along with the gun.
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Gaston sighed. It was already getting dark and something told him it would be a long ride.
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At some point, he had closed his eyes, only for them to be pried open by the force of the horse sliding to a stop. The horse had halted at a fork in the road, with one path seemingly ordinary and another enveloped in a thick layer of fog. It slowly made its way down the foggy path. Its movements carried the hesitation of someone being lost.
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Impatience took over Gaston as he slapped the horse’s side to get it to move faster. ‘You useless little…’
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His eyes were greeted by a gate and a towering castle behind it.
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In the twilight, the bricks on the walls appeared blue. The black iron in the gates twisted around like vines. The trees surrounding it were mostly bare, as if it was already winter.
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A thud echoed through the area when Gaston got off the horse. He swaggered over to the gate, pulled the doors open with ease and entered the castle.
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As he marched through the entryway, he paid little attention to the beastly buttresses or the luscious wine-coloured rug. Even if it wasn’t so dark inside, he never cared to appreciate any interior design that didn’t involve deer head mounts.
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For a moment, he thought he heard some chatter and turned his head, spotting an open door that led to a winding stone staircase.
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At the top was a room with shut wooden doors, the bottom of which contained metal bars. Gaston heard whimpering and smirked. Maurice.
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After taking a torch from the wall, he pulled at the lock, hoping to break it with brute strength alone. He pulled and pulled and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge.
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‘Gaston! Why, thank you! But you must go! He’ll be here any moment!’
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‘Who?’
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A deep growl could be heard behind Gaston. Someone snatched the torch and threw it into a puddle. The room went dark except for a spot where moonlight came from the window.
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Gaston faced the growler and saw a tall furred creature tread through the light on its hind legs. The creature wore a burgundy cape and the ugliest face he had ever seen. Gaston fumbled for his gun and, upon remembering where he left it, his shoulders jumped. He forcefully kept his grin and stood up.
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‘Unhand him, you beast!’ He ordered while holding his fists in front of him.
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The creature narrowed its eyes and Gaston realised how large they were. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought they looked human.
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‘He’s my prisoner,’ it declared in a voice deep enough to make Gaston feel a twinge of insecurity.
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Gaston threw a punch but the Beast grabbed his hand before it could land, pushing it away from him. Gaston tried again with his other first and the Beast’s reaction repeated. He managed to get a kick in, knocking the Beast to the ground. Before Gaston could stand over the body and put a boot against its neck, it heaved its hefty body up and picked Gaston up by his torso with ease. Gaston gulped, finally understanding how Lefou must have felt.
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The Beast lifted a paw and curled it around Gaston’s chin, holding his head up and inspecting it. It wore an expression ever so slightly like Lefou’s from that afternoon. It widened its eyes and dropped Gaston to the floor.
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‘Leave this place.’
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It turned around. Gaston considered using this to his advantage, only to remember that he didn’t have a knife. Brushing strands of hair out his face, he faced Maurice, who was shaking as he held the bars. No way was he going to let this monster rip apart his chances with Belle.
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‘I’ll take his place.’
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The Beast looked back, a mix of confusion and curiosity in its eyes. Its eyes shifted between Maurice and Gaston multiple times before it sighed.
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‘Fine,’ it growled. ‘But you must remain here forever.’
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Maurice yelped, ‘No, you can’t! You have our whole life ahead of you!’
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‘Shut it, Maurice!’ Gaston shouted. He turned his attention back to the Beast. ‘Do we have a deal?’
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The Beast slowly and hesitantly opened its paw to shake Gaston’s hand. He pulled out a key and unlocked Maurice’s door, dragging the old man down the steps. Ten minutes later, it came back with a resigned face. It kept its eyes as far from Gaston as possible.
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‘Come with me.’
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Gaston raised an eyebrow. ‘Where?’
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The Beast exhaled bitterly. ‘To your room.’ On the way, the Beast laid down the rules of staying at the castle, still shyly avoiding Gaston’s gaze. Gaston committed one rule to memory. Don’t visit the West Wing. He made sure to remember to do exactly that.
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