Disclaimer: I, in no way, claim any right to Disney's Beauty and the Beast, its characters etc., but the huntress and the story is a product of my imagination. No profit is being made from this work. Lastly, please don't plagiarize, thank you.
Author's Notes: I wonder what it would be like for Gaston to be with an empowered woman.
Here's my art of the Huntress: lemurianstars(*dot*)deviantart(*dot*)com/art/Huntress-OC-1B-693098182
This is post-BATB (1991) in which Gaston survives and got over Belle and the Beast and everything.
Special thanks to TrudiRose for the constructive reviews! :)
Thank you for reading, and if you fav or review, thank you so much!
Chapter I
There was once upon a time a young woman who stumbled across the small town of Villeneuve, seeking shelter from the thunderstorm. She entered the tavern, soaked from head to boot, as lightning suddenly flashed and a loud crack of thunder put to a still the lively chatter within. When the blinding flash subsided, the townsmen saw the unfamiliar face of the raven-haired girl walking toward the counter. Some of the men and women resumed conversation, but not LeFou, the man reputed to be the village hero's most loyal hanger-on. LeFou held a steel mug to the tap of a barrel of his signature brew, and as he waited for it to fill, he examined the strange woman closely. Her hair was tied with a ribbon, she wore a sanguine tunic, leggings, and boots specked with mud. She also carried a blunderbuss, slung across her back with the use of a leather sling. She walked toward him, seeing that he was the only one at the counter who wasn't busy talking to someone. As she came closer, LeFou noticed a holster strapped on her thigh, and judging from the hilt, it seemed that she was carrying a dagger.
"Excuse me, are you the barkeep?" she asked, looking around, examining the place.
LeFou nodded with a smile, trying to compose himself before a woman who carried both a dagger and a blunderbuss. The boots were peculiar enough but the weapons perturbed him. He knew that even in the village there was only one man who walked around carrying such weaponry.
"Could I get a table near the fireplace? I'm soaking wet, and I'll order Merlot, if you have that." The edge of her lip twitched, almost to a smile, as though she knew that her very appearance made him uneasy.
"Err, yeah. We don't have Merlot in these parts, but I'm sure Alsace wine will do!" LeFou grinned, hiding his curiosity. He wanted so badly to ask her where she came from and why she dressed in such a masculine fashion. "You can push that table and grab a stool near the fireplace, but try not to move that high-backed seat with the fur and horns. It belongs to the most important man in town."
LeFou pointed at the big chair near the fireplace and the woman followed the direction of his finger. Aside from the fur-coated seat, the wall was decorated with many antlers which came in different shapes and sizes. She also saw the head of a ram, a boar, a fox, and a bald eagle, all mounted as if to boast of one's hunting prowess. An enormous bearskin rug decorated the floor before the crackling hearth; however, the most notable decoration was not the many animal trophies, it was the large painting of a man attached above the mantel.
LeFou went down to the wine cellar to grab a bottle. The young woman pushed the table nearest to the fireplace even nearer, grabbed a stool, and laid her gun on the table.
"Here you go!" LeFou served her order shortly, laid the bottle of wine and a small glass on the table, and left as quickly as he came.
She heaved a sigh and leaned on the table, closing her eyes as if to sleep, unaware that some of the men were watching her closely, talking about how unusual it was to see an outsider, and made even more unusual by the fact that she carried weapons and dressed herself in what looked like hunting gear. When it crossed their minds, the thought of a woman who can hunt was ridiculous.
The three men occupying the nearby table were mumbling among themselves. The townsman named Tom leaned in, looking left and right at his companions, Dick and Stanley, and said, "Why'd ya think she wears that? If ye ask me she's dressed a helluva lot like-"
"Gaston?" Dick interjected.
"I wouldn't blame her if she idolized him to a point that made her, you know…" Stanley wiggled his finger near his temple, "A little unwell in the head."
"And with the gun and the knife!" Tom said with a shudder.
"But she isn't from this town." Dick crossed his arms.
"Look at her, she's staring at the painting!" Stanley jerked his head in the direction of the fireplace.
All three of them turned their heads to look at the stranger, now without fear of getting caught staring since they were sure that any woman who looked at that painting would find it hard to turn away.
Whenever the woman examined something closely, her eyebrows scrunched. It was a truly involuntary gesture which made her look unfriendly, but it repelled unwanted attention nonetheless. She looked at the painting of the man dressed in red with a quiver of arrows slung on his back and blunderbuss in hand, chin held high as if he could come alive at any moment and proclaim that he was the one who bagged the animal trophies and put them on a display of glory.
She smiled and helped herself to a shot of wine. It was still raining outside but the warmth from the hearth made her very comfortable. The wine helped keep her temperature a little higher, considering that she was soaked to the bone when she entered.
A loud thud came from the entrance and in came a man of great stature. The townsmen started yelling "Gaston!" which obviously must be his name, and most of the women fluttered their eyelashes at him, revealing their pining and affection for the handsome brute.
"Hey, Gaston! Done for the day's hunt?" LeFou asked as he came running toward the man. Gaston threw his cape for LeFou to carry and proceeded to his seat at the fireplace. Evidently, all eyes were on him. The woman contemplated the sight of the villagers and how they showered him with attention.
"Bad weather for a hunt, but nothing that can't be solved by a drink!" Carrying his blunderbuss on his shoulder, Gaston sauntered toward the fireplace as the townspeople cheered wildly. He stopped walking when everyone had stopped cheering and continued with their conversations. The tavern was once again filled with the ambient sound of people talking and gossiping.
LeFou quickly followed Gaston, holding a stein filled to the brim, and asked, "Drink some beer?"
Gaston kept quiet. LeFou saw that he was eyeing the strange outsider as she poured herself another shot of wine, ignoring the two men standing a short distance from her table. Gaston raised an eyebrow when he saw her whole getup, blinking tightly when he saw the gun on the table, knowing that it wasn't his. The whole ensemble eh?, he thought. With a smirk plastered on his face, he handed his own gun to LeFou, walked toward her, and grabbed her gun from the table. He had a bad habit of grabbing women's belongings without permission.
"Hm, better keep this away, mademoiselle. Might hurt yourself." Gaston noticed how well-kept the weapon was. The wood was intricately carved with elegant patterns.
She set down the glass and told him, "Monsieur Gaston, pardon me, but that gun is mine."
"An adoring fan like you," Gaston said, and as the words came out of his mouth, the woman's brows lifted in surprise, taken aback at why he would assume that she was his fan simply because they were similarly dressed. "I perfectly understand why you'd want to play with things you see me carry, but guns aren't made for women." He shrugged his shoulders disapprovingly. "You might break a finger pulling the trigger, or worse, the recoil would break your arm."
"Yeah, miss, I was thinking the same thing. Thought I'd do it to protect you, he heh," LeFou said, nodding in complete agreement.
Well, this is nothing new, she thought. She was used to men belittling her experience with a gun, let alone with any weapon. She dealt with such unwarranted criticism the moment she touched one. But as to why Gaston assumed that she was his adoring fan, grabbed her gun without permission or warning of any sort, and condescendingly warned her about injuries she might incur by using a gun that was hers in the first place, was beyond her. Though she conceded that he looked like a knight straight out of a fantasy, he was full of himself, plain and simple.
"Monsieur, I think I'm competent enough to handle a gun that I own and have actually used for years." She didn't notice the increasing volume of her voice. She simply sat straight and looked Gaston in the eye with a slight smile on her face so as not to appear rude. She didn't want to get on the bad side of this man, because if she did, she knew she'd have the whole town against her.
Gaston shook his head slowly, still smirking, unable to believe that the woman was able to wield the weapon. "You see, miss…" he stopped when he realized that he hadn't even asked for her name yet, "Miss?"
"Huntress, just call me huntress."
"You have a name, right?"
"Huntress will do," she replied.
Gaston's expression contorted into a mixture of disdain and confusion. No young woman was ever unwilling to give him her name, even women in other towns took pleasure in indulging opportunities to talk with him. He was used to having his exceptional good looks make most of the members of the opposite sex fawn over him, like a magic spell was cast on them without him ever exerting any effort.
"You see, huntress, I've never seen a woman shoot a gun before. If she did, she'd just be a bumbling mess! She'd break her arm, and miss the target, and keel over-"
She grew impatient and said, "Pardon me monsieur, but I beg to differ. I fired that gun many times before and none of that happened."
Gaston was certain that this woman was out of it. She seemed a little too outlandish, but he thought that perhaps a little feat of marksmanship would put her in her place. He chortled.
"Miss, I'll show you how a real hunter shoots! LeFou, move the dart board and clear the range! No one shoots like Gaston!" Gaston raised his arms, eliciting roars from the crowd. The townspeople echoed his last statement and moved their tables to clear a wide space from the dart board, a makeshift shooting target.
Gaston laid her gun on the table and LeFou immediately ran toward him to give him back his own. The huntress stood to get a better look at Gaston, intrigued by his flamboyant display of arrogance. The crowd kept cheering, finally settling down when he stood at a considerable distance from the dart board and took aim, even the huntress found the silence eerie.
Gaston fired a shot. The sound of the bullets hitting wood broke the silence for a brief moment. LeFou scurried toward the dart board to take a look at the bullet holes and give out a score. The hole closest to the center was just a few millimeters off, quite remarkable considering that a blunderbuss was not meant to shoot long range.
"Ten points for Gaston!" LeFou yelled.
The townsmen cheered loudly and some of them went to take a look at the board. Surely enough, their hero did not disappoint. He was a consistent shooter, gifted with an accurate eye, they all thought. Gaston basked in the attention of the roaring crowd, walking toward the huntress with an arrogant gait. Oh, how good it would feel to teach him a lesson, just entertaining the idea made her smile to herself.
"I see you're impressed! I shoot pheasants from much, much farther away. You see, miss, that's why there's no man who shoots better than I do." He laughed. "And surely, no woman!"
"Pardon me again, Monsieur Gaston, but I still beg to differ."
The huntress simply closed her eyes and walked toward the same spot where he fired the shot. Gaston's eyes followed her with an incredulous gaze. He couldn't believe how adamant she was even though she was merely going to make a fool of herself. When the huntress aimed at the dart board, the men stepped aside looking at her with bemused looks, sniggering at the disastrous spectacle they were expecting to see, but also worried that one of them would probably get shot.
The huntress aimed carefully at the center of the board, gently placing her finger on the trigger, and fired a shot. Gaston was agape, and so were the men and women who witnessed the inconceivable feat. LeFou shook his head to regain composure and ran to the board, mouth still wide open as he examined the bullet holes. He couldn't believe what he was seeing but there was a hole at the center. Here was an outsider, a woman, who showed up the town's best shooter.
"Monsieur!" the huntress shouted. Stanley quickly pulled LeFou away from the dart board when he saw the woman grab the hilt from the holster on her thigh. She closed her eye and aimed for a few seconds, then threw the dagger straight at the board. The sharp tip landed on the same spot as the bullet hole at the center. When Stanley pushed LeFou so that he could give her a score, the little man felt like fainting in disbelief. Not only had the woman beaten Gaston at his best, she even proved to them that she was capable of accurately hitting a target with a dagger, from a distance.
"T-ten points for the huntress!"
After an awkward pause, the townspeople gave her a round of applause, knowing when to congratulate a display of skill when they saw it. Gaston strode across the sea of claps as he went to the board, pushing LeFou aside, to look closely at the bullet holes and the dagger. He refused to believe it but the woman indeed managed to hit the center of the dart board. He gritted his teeth as he pulled the dagger and looked at the woman who sipped a meager amount of wine, drinking the liquor for the sole reason that it made her feel warm although the downpour had already stopped. The noise dissipated and some of the villagers, mostly the women, left the tavern to turn in for the night. Some left to save face for Gaston, thinking of pretending to forget that a woman outsider showed him up, making his marksmanship second-best to hers. LeFou started to clean and put the tables back to their proper places while the remaining townsmen went back to drinking, this time mumbling instead of talking loudly.
Gaston tried his best to feign sportsmanship. He brazened himself and strutted toward her, twirling her dagger between his fingers. He dropped it on the table and plopped down on the stool next to the huntress who was now adjusting her boots and wiping mud away, preparing to leave.
"Say, not bad, for a woman," Gaston said with half a smirk on his face.
She knew he was not one to eat his words. "Don't patronize me," she said curtly, pulling the strings of her boot.
This woman was getting on his nerves, but he had to remain calm if he wanted to raise the chances of his challenge being accepted. He ignored the comment and said, "I meant it. I've never met a girl quite like you." No girl as odd and much of a show off, that is.
"Really? Well, next time, when you want to impress a girl, just flash her your best smile," she said dryly.
Gaston couldn't quite understand her. One moment she insulted him, the next, she gave him a compliment. "Heh, the ladies do love that, but you know what I'd really like?" He leaned in with a malevolent grin across his face.
"What?" The huntress bit her lip. The man before her was equal parts devilishly handsome and repulsive, and he made her feel ill at ease. The light from the oil lamp illuminated every chiseled feature of his face, more so when he leaned in. She saw the lamplight reflected in his piercing blue eyes and for a moment, she was mesmerized. It was a shame how this man can be outrageously handsome and intolerably rude at the same time. He could have had it all, she thought.
Gaston suddenly stood up and announced, "You, me, a hunting contest tomorrow! She may have impressed you folks with a fluke, but tomorrow I'll prove to you that not even this so-called huntress can hunt better than Gaston!"
The townsmen cheered him on, ready to spread news of the challenge. They haven't had this much excitement ever since an infamous incident involving a beast.
"Hey, wait!" she protested.
"It's a challenge!" Gaston placed his hands on his waist, obviously not considering a denial. "Return at noon when the game forage for food. We meet at the meadow on the edge of the village. May the best man, or woman, win!"
LeFou handed him a stein of cold beer which he seized and gulped immediately, banging it on the table.
The huntress felt her temper rising quickly, but thought that a heated argument with him was futile, so she muttered, "Fine, have it your way."
Gaston pointed to the bearskin rug in front of the hearth. "You see that? You don't stand a chance."
"We'll see," she said defiantly.
The young woman returned the dagger to the holster and slung her blunderbuss across her back. She looked at him one last time, her face devoid of emotion. She saw the smug expression on his face as his look followed her every move, she couldn't stand it. She bid him and LeFou, "Good night, messieurs," and exited the tavern. She showed him up once, and she swore to herself that she would do it again.
