With special thanks to TrudiRose for her comment I present chapter two.
I am going to put up a poll now as I promised Lefou would find l'amour.

Should his special someone be:-
1-Timid and shy. (Much like himself.)
2- Flamboyant and over the top. (The opposite of him.)
3- One of the triplets.
4- I'm insane and have missed his true calling which actually points out his path is to be a homosexual. (Which I think would be a little bad considering the era and he deserves a woman like Gaston.)

7- Amedea...Maybe she prefers Lefou to Gaston?
6- None of the above instead...(please write who you think his ideal partner would be.)

Oh, and a warning to all my fanfic watchers...I will be lagging in my responses as after this one I have a bit of important course work I need to do so I will be slow sending more posts until my summer holiday which is in two weeks. ^.^ So I also shan't be able to have a new chapter until I get at least a few options so I can then start to work on chapter three!

BTW: The ending of this chapter may seem to be leaning one way but you'll find it the very opposite...lol
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The next two weeks breezed by, Gaston's days consisting of visits from adoring fans and admirers, the triplets being the most frequent. Amedea, the one person his heart and loins desired, never came, her advice and assistence being sent through Lefou.

But now Gaston was back on his feet. The warm summer breeze brought the seductive aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine from the neighbouring forest. Letting out a soft sigh, Gaston stretched his arms in the sun's glare. Admittedly Gaston still looked peaked and was still 'frail' according to the triplets, but he was tired of the nursing and was only too eager to get astride the 'saddle of life' once more and pursue his new obsession. As he had said many times before, 'Nobody says no to Gaston'. Not again, anyway.

Strolling down the cobbled path he grinned broadly, taking in the beautiful sight of the tranquil French village he knew as his home and the usual sound of song in the world reaching his ears.

Suddenly his attention was attracted by a large flock-like group of children and parents. The children were all very neatly presented, each child either in a loose tunic shirt and breeches or a simple dress, though most were brightly colourful and attractive. Gaston's eye was caught by the billowing shirt of a small boy who was still in that chubby-face stage of childhood, indicating that he was not much more than five, or six at the most. The boy was currently charging after the group.

"Mama! Mama!" he bellowed. He had fallen behind from the group and was eager to catch up with his mother, who stopped, smiling broadly as she crouched down, holding her arms open, and scooped the black-haired child into her arms, swinging him around so their black hair flung around them.

Their black hair...

Aside from Gaston, most of the villagers were blondes or brunettes. He only knew of one woman with hair like that. Looking closely once the spinning figures stilled, he saw that the mother was in fact his 'own' Amedea.

"Amedea's a mother? How could this happen?" he questioned in alarm and disgust.

"Because she was married," commented a voice from behind him as Lefou plodded to his side, looking up at him, his hand moving up above his own dark eyes to shield them from the glare of the morning sun.

"How can she BE married? She has loose hair!" Gaston laughed heartily, aiming a hit at Lefou for his stupidity.

Dodging the swing expertly, a skill he'd learned after years of Gaston's abuse, Lefou squealed, "I said 'WAS, Gaston. WAS. We don't know what happened to her husband. Stanley and his wife went to meet them and Amedea only mentioned her son," he explained hastily.

Gaston considered this, and a twisted thought entered his mind. "Think that son of hers is a bastard?" He stroked his chin lightly as he watched Amedea carry her son on her hip towards the school, setting him down outside the building and waving him goodbye.

Lefou shrugged. "Could be. I don't know. Though judging by the gold band still on her finger and the black dress, I'd think not," he concluded. "It wouldn't be a bad idea if you offered her a hand of friendship, Gaston. She may need it if things are hard for her."

"Ah, befriend her. Yes! Get her guard down, then she'll marry me! I have such good ideas," Gaston announced smugly, unaware of the sour look creeping onto Lefou's face. "And I know she can bear sons, so it all works."

Striding away from Lefou he advanced towards Amedea, much like a wolf would on its prey, only a little more obvious. He fell into step with her and greeted her with a charming smile. "Hello Amedea."

She nodded dismissively. "Bonjour, Gaston," she replied shortly, not even casting him a small glance. In fact, she tilted her chin up higher, her delicately pointed nose wrinkling, almost as if his presence brought a bad smell over.

"I realise we got off on the wrong foot," Gaston continued, his blue eyes twinkling lightly in the sun, ignoring her cold nature. "To make it up to you, why don't we go to the tavern and I'll tell you the story behind every one of my trophies?" He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, already attempting to guide her off, expressing his point of view on how to thaw women from their icy shells by ignoring it.

Amedea dug her heels hard into the ground, pushing herself away. "As charming as that sounds..." she started, though by the tone of her voice, she was anything but charmed and more venemous, as if harbouring the air of an arrogant aristocratic lord towards a begger. "..I have a lot to do at home. So if you'll excuse me." She swerved around him, clearly going all out of her way to avoid touching him.

Gaston was unfazed. "Why don't I help you? To show my deep regret for upsetting you," he offered, not wishing to allow her a chance to get away. Before he knew it, she'd taken the bait and was leading him down the cobbled street.

Finally they came up to a small bungalow. The fence was a little wonky from the last tenants, but it didn't seem to bother Amedea much at all. Opening up the front door, she led him into a room that was neatly arranged and tidy, other than a heavy trunk set in front of the empty fire place.

"Gaston, this is what I want you to help me with. I need you to-" Before Amadea could finish her thought, Gaston charged forward and knelt down to grab the box.

To Gaston's surprise, the box was heavy…REALLY heavy. He only got it about an inch off the ground before dropping it.

"Heavy, huh?" she giggled, opening the oak lid to show a stuffed stag head. The glossy brown fur was neat and unmarked by any blood whatsoever, the large eyes dark with the blank stare of death. "Jareth killed this mighty beast the day Grant-Pierre was born. So it is very important to me," she commented softly her fingers tracing the extravagant work of the horns.

"So you want that on the wall?" Gaston asked.

Amedea nodded. "Yes, I wanted it above the fire place." she answered coldly, making it sound more of an insult than a comment, as though the answer was obvious.

"Who's Jareth?" Gaston questioned curiously as he picked up the heavy mounted head and managed to hook it onto a rusty nail on the wall. "And Grant-Pierre's your lad?"

"Jareth is my husband. We were married for nine years. I married him when I was fifteen. An early marriage, I know but I loved him." Amedea nodded slightly as she regarded the stuffed head.

"Right..." Gaston cleared his throat and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Now shall I take you to the tavern to take a look at my trophies?" he offered with a smirk.

She sighed and shoved his arm off her shoulders. "Yet again Gaston, I am busy. I need to go to the market, clean the house, then make dinner and put my son to bed. Then my cousin will watch my son while I work till gone midnight, come home to sleep for a few hours then get up and start again." This wasn't entirely true – she wasn't busy every minute of every day, and today she had worked a daytime shift - but she just wanted nothing to do with Gaston.

However, seeing the determined scowl on his face, she let out a deep sigh. "Very well. I'll take the night off," she grumbled, finding it hard to be firm with this guy. But slowly, the slippery cunning brain she'd developed when with her husband came into plan. She realised how to make him suffer and get him as far away from her as possible. Her voice took on a deliberately sweet tone. "Come round my home about six. I'll be getting supper ready about then to say thanks for putting the head up, and if there's time you can show me these trophies." She picked up a basket from beside the door and headed out of the door without another word.

As she walked down the path her eyes glistened with a thought. Maybe if he survives this night he'd be worth playing with again, she contemplated darkly. With this, she already started to spin the complicated structure of the web of her plot, barely able to conceal her malicious smirk.

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Six o'clock came and Gaston rapped hard on the door, checking his reflection in the small window beside the door, rubbing a small blemish on his teeth which was un-noticeable to non-Gaston eyes. The door opened, luckily just after he'd stopped cleaning his teeth.

Expecting to see Amedea, he was shocked to see Grant-Pierre, who looked very haughty and unimpressed, with a face like a smacked bottom. Glowering at the visitor he made to shut the door, but Gaston stuck his foot in the gap. Undaunted Grant stomped on the foot roughly. Gaston grunted in surprised pain and pushed the door back abruptly, knocking the small boy back and onto his rear. The child immediately began to wail.

Hearing the hubbub, Amedea rushed through, wiping her doughy hands on her apron. "What's going on in here?" she demanded, looking first at the giant of a man who was now sat in a wicker chair by the door nursing his sore foot, then to her wailing son. Like any good mother she rushed to Grant-Pierre, fussing over him adoringly, kissing where he said was hurt and hugging him close, then settling him down in the sitting room with the promise of cookies and warm milk after dinner.

HoweverGaston couldn't help but overhear a whisper from the young boy.

"I did good Mummy?"

"Yes my son. Just like I said," Amedea whispered back, an unfamiliar smirk curling her full lips.

Did she put him up to it?' mind questioned instantly. Quickly he shook it off, not thinking this possible of a 'poor widow'. He remembered his own mother after his father passed on. She was never bitter and just wanted to carry on and raise Gaston to the best of her ability.

Returning to Gaston, Amadea pushed the door shut with a small nudge from her small yet well-rounded hip. "What happened? Grant says he didn't know who you were, so he closed the door to fetch me, but you burst the door open and knocked him flying. Is this true?" Her eyebrow raised slightly.

Gaston looked down at the floor, unsure what to say. Luckily for him, before he had to answer a sound of boiling water was heard, which caused Amedea to flee into the kitchen. She called to Grant to take Gaston through to the dining room.

After adding the last few items to the table, Amadea scooped up her son and set him onto a chair, making a game of putting his napkin around his neck which lasted almost five minutes, leaving both mother and son giggling. Kissing the top of his head, she sat down, ladled stew into the bowls, and sliced up a large loaf of bread into thick slices. Buttering a slice for Grant, she smiled to see him already tuck into his stew, drowning the bread in the liquid the moment she handed it to him.

"Your lad certainly has an appetite," Gaston commented. The boy had almost finished his bowlful while Gaston was only a quarter of the way through his.

Amedea laughed softly as she managed to wipe her son's face with a spare napkin, attempting to get rid of the crumbs. "Yes, a healthy appetite is a good thing. He's just like his father. Both of them were such fast eaters, in the time it takes me to eat a bowlful they both had about three," she explained simply as she refilled her son's bowl. She directed her next question at the child. "How was your day?"

She was looking at her son, ignoring the hunter. But Gaston, being raised like a true gentleman, presumed her comment was direct at him, since he was the guest, after all. "I had a good day. Went hunting and saw this small dragon. I tried to catch it, but it had already been caught and tamed."

"It was probably a reptile. Not a small dragon. Dragons don't exist, silly," Grant chuckled through a mouthful of soggy bread, causing Amedea to giggle.

"More than likely an iguana. Jareth's brother bought one from somewhere he'd traveled," Amedea added condescendingly, ignoring the basic rules of etiquette and permitting her son to humiliate her guest.

Feeling ridiculed, Gaston remained silent for the remainder of the meal, not even looking at Amedea, feeling wounded that a child had turned out to be smarter than himself. What didn't help was the fact even as a guest in her home he felt like an unwanted relative. His own mother would have been ashamed of Gaston and herself if they had treated guests this way.

"Don't beat yourself up, Gaston. I mean, most people wouldn't have known. None of you have ever left this village, nor do they seem keen on reading. You're more knowledgeable about things outside of books and such," Amedea commented dryly, trying to lighten his mood, which had dropped at being made to feel unwanted in the hostile environment of this home, especially after he was attempting to get back into the saddle of life after just getting hurt by a girl he had thought was to be his wife. Amedea was aware his guard was up, and she was determined to lower it so as to put her scheme into motion.

They were now both sitting in the living room side by side on the sofa. Grant had been fast asleep for the past half hour. Yet Gaston still hadn't had the heart to try anything. This was a new playing field to him as well. A widow. She wasn't a virgin, so to him this made a completely different change.

Amedea sighed, pulled her knees up and knelt on them so she was facing him, her arms held out. "Come on, hugs always seem to help," she said gently in a motherly tone, doing her best to hide her amused expression and that devilish glint in her eyes as she thought of her plan.

Gaston smirked, feeling tempted to be manly by saying he didn't do hugs. But how likely was it that he'd touch her again? He wasn't going to turn down an invitation like that. Leaning forwards he wrapped his strong arms around her small waist. Her own arms draped over his shoulders, caressing soothing circles into his back, stroking his hair affectionately.

Despite Amedea's slight build, her warm embrace gave him an unexpected feeling of safety, which reminded him of his own mother. It was strange and he never wanted it to end, unless he had a guarantee of it being repeated.

While contemplating this he got a brain wave. Screw friendship, he thought with a faint smirk. He had just gotten the perfect plan to win her over. Leaning forwards more he pressed his lips against hers, one of his hands falling lower to graze her rear.

Amedea smirked inwardly. Bingo! her mind screamed. She decided to craftily lure him into trusting her. Then she'd ensure this be the last time she had to put up with him.

To Gaston's surprise she responded fiercely, her tongue pushing back against his amorously. She swung herself over so she was straddled on his lap, her fingers splayed across his torso. Her hands tugged off his favourite red shirt, her fingers running though the soft dark hairs that covered his chest.

Gaston kicked off his boots. Eagerly he allowed one of his hands to move up and graze her breast. He was surprised by her desperation, that she'd be this forward with someone she'd only met a fortnight ago. However he wasn't complaining about taking her like this. He secretly hoped to get her pregnant – then she'd HAVE to marry him to save her from going to hell or being shunned by the church and the villagers.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him up and led him confidently into the hall and against a door Gaston presumed entered into her bedroom. His eyes widened as he felt her already unbuckle his belt professionally. His trousers and underwear followed before she pulled away from the kiss, allowing her eyes to travel down his body to gaze at his member before giggling darkly.

"Seems you're really compensating for something with your muscles, Gaston," she commented with a smirk…then suddenly opened the door, causing him to fall through it. Much to Gaston's shock he was out in the cold, in nothing but his socks. Amedea's door was now shut…and by the clicks he heard, locked too.

Gaston swore loudly, fervently hoping nobody would see him like this. What would he say? Covering up his manhood awkwardly, he hurried back to his home, hoping she'd not repeat this to any one. Yet again he was feeling humiliated, down and depressed as he had now been made a fool of by not one woman but two!

This really wasn't a good year for Gaston.

Amedea however laughed heartily, her back against the door tears in her eyes. "Good. That'll teach him," she commented darklyleaving him to walk through the chill of the night in nothing but a pair of thin socks. True enough just getting thrown out would have been enough for him to get the idea, and she could have thrown his clothes out after him to save him embarrassment. But it was a lot more fun to send him out in the bitter cold without a stitch of clothing, she thought with a chuckle.