Something is missing, something is missing, something is missing.
He's a hero, he's loved; the biggest, the strongest, manliest, handsomest. Women make fool of themselves to win his favour and call his attention, the village freely play songs about him, LeFou is always at his side. He has everything he ever wanted.
So what is the emptiness he feels inside of him?
Why does he shake? It can't be fear, Gaston isn't afraid of anything. Why does he keep losing control, what is the urge to hunt and kill?
What is he missing?
…
Gaston goes on his life as normal, as nothing is ever wrong with him, he's perfect as always; he hunts, he dances, he flirts—though he easily gets bored with the women who throw themselves at him, easy prey, none on his level of beauty.
Except Belle.
She's beautiful, like him, and she's different. She's nothing like the other girls and she knows how to play the long game, how to reject him and make him hunt, make him want to impress her.
Maybe that's what he's been missing: a wife.
Maybe that's the hunt he needs.
He picks up some flowers and ignores LeFou's questioning, convincing himself that it isn't bloodshed he seeks but love and marriage.
…
As Maurice sneers at him Gaston sees red, even after just being calmed by LeFou. The void sucks him whole and he punches the older man, not fully in conscious of his actions but knowing he had to—the man was against him, against what he needed. No one says no to Gaston, and maybe this way he'd have a way into Belle's heart, he would be there for her as she mourns—and leaves him to the wolves. He ignores LeFou's words, knowing him to be a fool. Gaston couldn't be stopped now nor did he want to be, all be damned.
Maurice couldn't speak of what happened, he'd turn her against Gaston.
Gaston could feel his blood pumping, something he missed deeply, and gestured to his horse to keep going. It shouldn't have gone this way, but it couldn't be helped. Maurice had it coming.
Belle would get over it, after they find her and fed her a story full of Gaston's heroism and of gruesome wolves. She would fall at his feet.
Wait and see.
…
He's drowning in the emptiness, he's losing himself to it.
He loves it.
...
Agathe stared as it all happened, unable to help. She knew her word wouldn't be enough, nobody listens to an old spinster and beggar, so she kept watching.
She watched as Gaston lied through his teeth, barely managing his temper, and manipulated his friend to vouch for him. She watched the threat in his eyes as LeFou hesitated.
She knew Gaston, she could feel the void inside of him, the selfish heart calling for her help. Agathe wondered if it was too late for him or if he, too, still had a chance like the Prince. She wished she could give him a curse—or a test, as she prefers calling—but she couldn't. The Prince still hadn't broken his, she was stuck to him until either the last petal fell or he broke the curse. Or died, she added as the mob started.
She locked her eyes on LeFou, watching the man's internal crisis as he questioned the man he loved but followed still, hoping. Agathe tried to not let it remind her of her past.
She couldn't change it anyway, all she could do is watch and mod the present.
…
They all bought his words and follow him to kill the damned Beast, to war. Gaston felt full, like the Captain he always was, like a hero again. He'd kill the thing and have his fur for a rug; he'd save them all. It was his fate.
He smiled at the rage he could feel in the people's voices.
They finally understood how he felt.
...
As he has the man, Gaston, begging for his life on his hands he was reminded of himself, still a prince, begging to the Enchantress. He saw himself, who he once was, in Gaston.
He let him go then, and in some way saved himself too. They weren't the same, not anymore, and he wasn't a Beast. He refused to be.
It was past the time to realize that.
He knew it was the right choice, but still he wondered if Gaston, too, had a chance if given. He was given mercy, but that wasn't what he needed and it showed when he came back for them. Gaston needed to learn the same lesson as him.
He didn't get to.
It was hard to see your old self in someone else only to see them fall before your eyes. It showed him what he could've become and what could've been. Still, he pitied Gaston even if he didn't truly get to know the man and he had tried to kill him, for he understood the man too well.
If only it could've gone differently.
…
He doesn't think anything as he falls, not really, not enough time to. He feels the ground break under his feet and the realization that he wouldn't get out of this battle alive.
…
Agathe leaves unnoticed as the reunions begin. She never liked this part, even as very few actually managed to learn and broke the curse; the ping of guilt at the knowledge that she took innocent people away from their loved ones, even if it had been for a good cause, was too painful.
She followed the faint cry for help of a dying soul as she looked for Gaston in the forest, half hoping it wouldn't be too late. He was a monster, but Agathe could still feel LeFou's despair from here and it motivated her even further.
When is a monster not a monster?
That was where he differs from the Prince. They were too similar, but where one selfishness and vanity was born out of insecurity and neglect, the other was from violence and too much praise. One needed to learn how to be loved, the other how to love someone other than himself.
There was no time to give him a chance, as she had already been proven by him where his heart was, so she let her true form show and her magic flow, focusing it all on the brute lying next to her feet. She summoned a broken mirror and laid her curse.
Gaston's unconscious form started to change, mutate, turn into the monster he had become inside. She pulled everyone's memory of him, only leaving LeFou with a yearn for something—for someone—he didn't remember.
He wouldn't have anyone by his side, anyone to help or praise him. He needed to learn how to give up himself and his past and learn how to love.
Maybe he wouldn't be able to, maybe he'd leave and the others—LeFou—would move on.
She never worked with certainty.
Agathe pulled him to a cave and left him there with the mirror, a note and supplies if only so she wouldn't feel guilty of having abandoned him to the wolves like he tried to do with the poor old man not long ago.
Only time would tell what Gaston's choices would be.
…
When Gaston wakes up, he feels the pain in his body. The changes. The scales. Confusion floods his mind together with many questions but of one thing he's sure.
He's a monster, just like the Beast he tried to kill.
Maybe he always was.
From deep inside the forest a monstrous roar is heard.
...
When is a monster not a monster?
When you love it.