Gaston had drank long into the night, staring at the lamp. The day dawned brightly, and he found himself passed out by a river. He wasn't alone. From his position curled up on the forest floor, he could see a thin dark skinned man, prodding at a fire. The knight squinted and sat up. The man was dressed strangely. His arms and chest were bare, the rest of him covered in brightly colored, golden hemmed clothing.

He turned then, and Gaston saw smiling eyes, ageless and dark, and a goatee trimmed neatly around a smiling mouth.

"Good morning, master," he man said, standing and bowing low. The knight must have looked confused, because the dark man continued. "I am the Genie of Agrabah. Welcome to your wish."

He gestured out to lush fields, and Gaston recognized them as the Marchlands. There were no ogres in sight, and the fields were unspoilt by the traumas of war, wheat and corn just beginning to sprout.

"What did I wish for?" he asked.

"You wanted to change the fate of the girl. It was a tricky bit of magics." The genie seemed proud of himself. "You probably don't remember, with the drink and all, but I did tell you the rules. I can't make her love you. That's on you alone."

"And the Dark One?"

" You said you didn't care what I did with the Dark One, and magic cannot destroy magic. But I did manage to suppress him. It won't last forever, though. The Dark Curse doesn't like being put down."

Gaston struggled to his feet. "The ogres?"

"There is no invasion," the genie replied. "The creatures are at rest."

The knight tried to focus. His head was a little achey. This much he knew, Belle was with her father in their castle, and he would go and sweep her off her feet.

"I need a horse."

Without pause, the Genie waved his hand, a grand beast appearing before them. It was a large horse, with a honey colored coat and pale mane. "His name is Philippe. He will take you to your prize."

Gaston felt a swelling of pride. The mighty steed was worthy of him, grand and intimidating. It stood a head taller than any horse he'd ever seen. "And you, Genie? What will you do?" The knight mounted the horse, rearing him around to face the magician.

"I am at your beck and call, as any genie would be," the Genie replied. "I will be in the lamp, awaiting your next two wishes." He vanished in a puff of smoke, gliding through the air and into the lamp at Gaston's side.

Confident in his plans, Gaston turned and began his journey.

It didn't take the knight long to reach the castle gate. Inside he would find Sir Maurice, the rotund, jovial knight, a fair and gentle leader. He dismounted, handing the horse off to a stable boy along with a copper coin.

He made his way inside, not without a certain amount of swagger. Gaston suddenly felt within his element again. He was the strong, brave knight, no longer the weakened man who had been tainted by magic or lives several months of his life as a rose. He had slain many beasts, and had their stuffed mounts to prove it. Chimera, bear, and stag all bowed before him, as a master of hunt. He was the son of a mighty Duke, the first line of defense to any ogre attack. He was brave, and handsome, and strong.

Belle was as good as his.

Maurice welcomed the knight with open arms. Quite literally. The lorde clapped the knight firmly by the shoulders, before leading him down the hallway to the war room. It was a rounded room, set with a table in the center and chairs.

"I did not expect a visit from the Frontlands," Maurice said. "But you are most welcome. Your tales follow you here, Gaston." He gestured for a servant who appeared in the next moment with two goblets and a glass pitcher filled with dark red wine.

"I am honoured by your welcome, my Lorde," Gaston replied, taking a goblet from him. "I am actually here about a matter that may interest us both."

"Please, sit." Maurice gestured to the seats, taking his own. "Now, what brings you here?"

"I come to seek the hand of Lady Belle," Gaston trumpeted. "It will benefit out two lands greatly to be merged in such a way, and surely you can agree that she and I would make a handsome pair."

Maurice's round fell a little, looking somewhat contemplative. And uncertain. Gaston did not like this turn of events. Before, it had been no issue to get Maurice to agree to the wedding. True there had been a war upon them, and not only could Lady Belle be taken to the safety of her husband's home, it also guaranteed the aid of the Frontland's troops.

"Forgive me a moment to think over your request, Sir Gaston," Maurice said, after his pause. "I love my daughter dearly, and more than anything want her happiness. I fear that without cause, I will not use my daughter for a political marriage."

Gaston felt his temper rising. He was her perfect match! How could Maurice deny this?

"I want her to marry for love, and goodness knows she's too stubborn to want anything less," the lorde laughed, then his face became somber again. "However, I give you my full permission to court her. I would have no qualms with the match so long as she approves it." There was a wistful look to him now. "I suppose I shall have to give her as a bride soon either way."

"Will you summon her that I may speak of my intentions?" Gaston asked. He was not pleased with this turn of events, but he supposed he would have to make due.

"Oh, she's not often around the castle, I'm afraid," Maurice was suddenly laughing again, and shaking his head. "You'll find her at the pub, I suppose."

Gaston left the castle with his head spinning and his temper rising. This was not what he had expected. Not only had Maurice denied his proposal (flat out denied! As if it weren't an honor or Gaston to even consider his daughter a worthy paramore), but Belle, quiet, book-wormy Belle, was at a pub. And her father didn't object.

The pubs Gaston knew were seedy places, filled with dangerous men with even more dangerous ideas. Women in these places were often sought for their companionship, bartered and bought. It was no place for any proper lady, much less a lady of distinction and high birth. Much less for Belle. Angelic, innocent Belle.

He made his way into the city. It was much different from the one in his memories. But then again, it had been burning, the streets churned into mud from the water they used to heal, and the blood that they could not stop. The houses had been evacuated, the market all but torn down to make room for the wounded and healers. That part he didn't like to dwell on. Even for a man seasoned in battle, the dying were a terrible sight.

Now it was a bustling place. Children played among the carts and stalls. The people seemed, if not necessarily happy, at least content. At least alive, he thought to himself.

The pub itself was nondescript. Were it not for the words "Spinner's Pub" carved into the building with large letters, Gaston would not have known it from the surrounding buildings.

Inside was not much different from the outside. A stone floor was beneath his feet, coated in dirt and straw dragged in by boots, and the wooden walls boasted little decoration. Several long tables, benches, and a tall bar with several chairs occupied the rest of the space. It was strangely crowded for a mid afternoon, a loud, badly tuned piano playing cacophonously, and dirty drunkards screaming over each other in increasingly shrill voices. Yet Belle stood out like a sore thumb, shining royalty amongst the peasants in their shabby clothing. She was sitting on a stool, laughing, a tankard sloshing dangerously in her hand as she spoke animatedly to the man behind the bar.

He was as nondescript as the bar itself. Aged, with brown hair that hung long to his shoulders. He watched the glass in his hand that he was cleaning, smiling warmly as he listened to her talking .

Gaston steeled himself. This was it. He had changed fate. He had saved her from the monster and would make her his forever. He would take her to bed, and she would bear his children. He was so close to righting the wrong the world had crafted.

Now all he had to do was go propose to the girl.

The knight strutted over to her, drawing himself up to his full height (gods, she was tiny. He'd nearly forgotten). As he approached he coughed loudly, and both Belle and the bartender (who were leaning in closer to each other, talking conspiratorially) paused in their conversation and turned to him. The bartender was smirking now, but Gaston ignored him entirely.

"Lady Belle," Gaston declared, loudly. He swept into a low bow. "I am Sir Gaston, knight of the Frontlands and son of the Duke. I trust my reputation precedes me."

She blinked at him for a moment, exchanged an amused glance with the bartender before nodding. "Of course, Sir Gaston," she responded, inclining her head elegantly. Her tone was what he could only describe as appraising as she eyed him. She was clearly impressed. "What brings you to the Marchlands?"

"I've come to take you as my bride."

Belle's eyes widened a fraction, her brow rising. "I-I beg your pardon?"

A grin spread over Gaston's face. She was clearly flattered by the idea. He stepped a little closer, winking at her. "If you'll accompany me back to your father's castle we can discuss wedding details and we could be wed before the fortnight ended. You'd never have to step into a dirty hovel like this ever again."

Had Gaston been a little more perceptive, he might have noticed the frown tugging on the edges of her mouth. Her leg began to twitch in agitation as she waited for him to stop speaking.

"No," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Gaston had been so caught up in gloating that he almost didn't hear her. "What?"

"I said no," she reiterated. She pushed back her chair and got to her feet, anger flashing in her eyes. She poked his firm chest with one of her fingers. "I will not marry a man I just met," Belle declared. "And certainly not one who sees fit to make his proposition sound more like a demand then a question. Good day to you."

And she stormed out.

Gaston was flabbergasted. Stunned and in disbelief. She had denied him! how could she? He loved her, for the gods sake!

There was a chuckle behind him and the clinking sound of a goblet being put on the wooden bar. Gaston turned around, still in shock to notice the bartender smirking at him.

"On the house," the man said, his words thick with an accent. Gaston took the tankard as the he started to polish another glass.

"Yeah, that Belle, she's a funny one," the barman continued. He said it fondly, with that warm smile on his face, watching wistfully out the door where she had disappeared. "Unless you're wounded, a book, or a pint she hasn't got much time for nonsense. And the gods know you'll never tell that woman her own fate. Better luck with the next one, dearie."

Something tripped in Gaston's brain at that moment. He stared at the barman, trying to find familiar features in the very human man. But there it was. The slightly hooked nose, crooked, mocking smile…

"Rumplestiltskin?!"

The barman looked taken aback for a moment. "Aye," he said, eyebrows furrowing. "Have we met?"

"No," Gaston snapped. He was furious. What did he have to do to get that….beast! away from Belle? "And you mark my words, Belle will be mine."

And he took his leave.

Once outside, he ducked behind the building, reaching for his pocket and pulling the lamp out, rubbing it fiercely.

"Why is Rumplestiltskin here?" he bellowed at the Genie when the magical man had condensed from his puff of smoke.

Unphased, the Genie merely tilted his head. "You told me you didn't care what happened to him," the dark man replied. "By suppressing his powers I've returned him to what he once was: an ordinary man. Is that not enough for you?"

"He's interfering!"

"By existing?"

"YES." Gaston could have pulled his hair out in frustration.

Belle would never agree to marry him now. Nothing he could do would sufficiently impress her after he'd made such an ass of himself. He had been so certain of his reception. Yet Rumplestiltskin was already there to destroy everything.

"Well I can't help that. If the two are bound by fate, nothing I can do will separate them," the Genie continued. "However, bound does not necessarily mean lovers. You can still act."

The Genie was right, Gaston realized. There was still a way to pull this off. Perhaps even doom the Dark One in the process. He took a deep breath, brandishing the lamp. He didn't stop to think more on it. Barely thought of it at all.

"I must ensure a political marriage for myself and Belle. Genie, for my second wish," he declared (far too pompously in the Genie's opinion). "Bring back the ogres."

~TBC~

A/N: Well that was fun. So the AU portion of this means I'm going to be completely screwing with the cannon timeline for funsies.

I'm trying to play Gaston as a mix between the OUAT one and the original BatB one. Which brought me to the realization that the original one is absolutely terrifying, and kind of a sexual predator. That is a vibe I'm hoping to ignore, because Gaston in OuaT looks more like a kicked puppy the one time we saw him.

Next chapter we'll drop into Belle's perspective.