The journey to Belle's village wasn't easy. Navigating the forest was straightforward enough; the prince practically knew it from the back of his head from hunting in it for ten years. But the countryside proved to be more difficult as he'd never travelled outside the castle alone before. The magic mirror didn't help much either as it could only show him major landmarks leading to the village but not a way of getting to them. Sometimes he'd go one way, only to check the mirror to see a bridge or farm he'd passed before, causing him to throw his hands up in frustration as he realized he'd gone the wrong way.

With all these set-backs in direction, it was mid-afternoon by the time he and Magnifique reached the village.

"We're just coming here to check on Belle, Magnifique," he explained as he stuffed the mirror in his saddlebag. "After that we're going to find the enchantress and convince her to break the spell on the servants." Just thinking of where he could find her seemed like a daunting if not impossible task. Enchantresses didn't make themselves available to people at will after all. It might be ages before he found out where she was.

The main street of Belle's town, named Molyneaux according to a nearby sign, was bordered by quaint houses and tiny shops. It looked no different from any other village the prince had seen as a boy, yet he felt a certain thrill pass over him as he watched people buy and sell things in the street. After ten years of being confined in his castle he'd almost forgotten how wonderful it was to be among people who weren't enchanted objects. He knew he would never take a moment like this for granted ever again.

It wasn't until he rode further into the town that he realized people were staring at him. True, he wasn't a Beast anymore, but he was still a stranger to the village, a stranger with a horse and outfit far too conspicuous to belong to a simple traveller. A couple of boys pointed at him curiously as he passed them by. Three identical blonde ladies batted their lashes at him as they collected water from a nearby water pump. He waved a hand at them sheepishly before he realized what he was doing and shook his head.

I need to find Belle! Turning away from the girls, he scanned the signs of the shops in front of him: Boulangerie, Café, Argent, Librairie – bookstore! If there was any place Belle went to shop at in the village, it had to be there. He found a post by the corner to tie Magnifique to and stepped inside.

The inside of the bookshop was so small; the prince was surprised it could carry enough books for a town at all. What wasn't crammed into the shelves was on stuffed on the windowsills. It was no wonder Belle was so delighted by how huge the library was back at the castle. He only had to wait a minute before a short, old man emerged from the backroom, plopping a stack of books on the desk in front of him.

"May I help you?" he asked.

The prince cleared his throat nervously. "Uh, good day, monsieur. I was wondering if you could help me look for someone. Her name is Belle and I believe she lives in this village."

The shopkeeper lifted his brows in surprise. "No one has ever come here asking for Belle before. Are you a relative of hers?"

"A friend actually," he corrected, drawing his hood back. "I...uh, heard she was getting married and wanted to see her."

M. Bouquin studied the prince's face curiously. He looked to be about Belle's age...did he know perhaps? Belle had never mentioned having friends outside the village before. But then again, she was always talking about books when she came here; he supposed it had slipped her mind.

"You heard correctly," he said as he moved to the back to shelve some stock, "but it's probably best if you find a room at the tavern tonight. She won't be seeing anyone until the wedding tomorrow."

"What? Why?"

"Her fiancé's rules," he growled as he climbed the ladder. "She and her father, Maurice disappeared a few weeks ago and now he's afraid she'll run off again. He won't let her leave her house unaccompanied until the ceremony."

This was shocking news to the prince. How could anyone do that to Belle? He'd let her go so she could be free, not become someone else's prisoner! He immediately thought of rescuing her, but he'd already promised himself he wouldn't reveal himself to her unless he had to. There had to be another way he could help. But how?

It was then he noticed one of the books the shopkeeper was putting back on the shelf: Sleeping Beauty. He knew that story, Belle had read to him once! In it, a princess had been cursed to sleep forever and a prince had had to slay a whole dragon before he could find her and wake her with his kiss. Of course!

In all the fairy tales Belle read to him, the prince always defeated the dragon before he saved the princess. If the prince was going to end this dilemma she had gotten herself into, he had to step up and find the dragon of this village – Gaston.

"Where can I find this Gaston?" he asked the shopkeeper.

"He goes hunting during the day and hangs out at the village tavern most evenings," he answered. "Why?"

"I'm going to have a little talk with him. Thank you for your help, monsieur."

The door closed with a loud clang before the old man could finish turning around.


Gaston was in a considerably good mood that night. And why shouldn't he be? In less than twenty-four hours Belle would be his. The perfect wife for the perfect huntsman. After tomorrow no one would doubt he was the greatest. No one would doubt that even the most hard to get woman in town could submit to his will and marry him.

"I'd like to thank you all for attending my little wedding shower," he said as he lifted his glass to his comrades that night at the tavern. "Of course we're missing one little person from our party tonight. I asked Belle to come with me, but she's just so worried about her father, she won't leave his side, poor thing."

"Well I guess its better she's with him than with that Beast, huh Gaston?" said LeFou.

"I don't want to talk about that!" Gaston snapped, throwing his tankard over his head. The Beast was still a sore subject for him after Dick and Stanley's failure to retrieve his body. The sooner people forgot about him, the better.

"Of course," he said after a moment of silent reflection, "it's not Belle's fault that she got tangled up with such a Beast. Being raised by an inventor like Maurice, there's no question where she'd get all those crazy ideas. And not having a mother, can you imagine?" he shook his head sadly. "But make no mistake boys; Belle is going to be the perfect wife. I've broken horses wilder than her. Once we get married, I guarantee she'll be keeping house with pride, raising sons galore, massaging my feet every night. Of course all those books of hers will have to go. I can't have them getting in the way of all my trophies."

He shot a smile, and the whole tavern burst out laughing, save for one. The prince had been sitting at the back of the tavern for the past half hour and was about ready to burst from all the things he was hearing from this man's mouth.

"How DARE you talk about Belle that way!" he shouted.

The laughter immediately ceased. Gaston looked up to from his chair to see a strange, hooded man sitting at one of the tables in the back of tavern. "And who are you?" he asked curiously.

"That's none of your concern," the prince snarled as he stood up from his chair. "You can't just treat Belle like some kind of trophy you can polish and do with as you please."

"Oh really now?" Gaston sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. No man had ever stood up to him before. This was certainly new. "Let me break this down for you, pal. Belle has agreed to marry me. And I'm going to make all her dreams come true."

"What do you know about her dreams?"

"Plenty more than you do, I'm sure. Say you're a newcomer, aren't you? Why don't you come celebrate with us? I'll even pay for your drink."

The prince said nothing in reply. He didn't want to be drinking with Gaston anymore than he wanted to see him kissing Belle, or forcing her to sleep with him and bear his children. "If you're a good husband," he said pointing his finger at him, "you'll listen to your wife's wishes and let her read her books."

"And if you're a good man, you'll stay out of my business, stranger," Gaston replied coolly. "You know, I'm starting to feel like you know Belle from somewhere. Maybe you can enlighten me."

He waved his hand, and Dick and Stanley rose from their seats. They knew how to handle a lunatic when they saw one, and this young man was no different. Or so they thought. As Dick reached out to grab him, the prince grasped his outstretched arm and threw him right into Stanley. The two men collided into each other and landed flat on the floor, their expressions shocked. What the heck had just happened?

Even the prince couldn't explain it. All he knew was the minute Dick tried to touch him, he'd felt a rush of adrenaline, like how he'd felt when he had to fend himself from the wolves. Suddenly knew what he had to do to avoid him. It was practically instinctive.

Gaston wasn't impressed. He bounded off his chair and marched straight towards the prince. "Alright, pal. I see why you're here. It just so happens that you're messing with the strongest man in town. And let me just warn you, I've never lost a single wrestling match."

"Tell me one thing," said the prince replied curtly. "Are you keeping Belle locked up because you want to keep her safe? Or are you afraid she might run off because you didn't bring back the Beast, like you promised her?"

At those words, a rage fell upon Gaston so strong it would even put the wrath of Hades to shame. He grabbed the prince by his collar and pinned him straight on to the table.

"How do you know about the Beast?" he shouted, his cocky face now filled with anger. "Tell me! TELL ME!"

He tightened his grip around his neck. The prince tried to fight him off, but his human body was too feeble, it felt like he was struggling to get a huge boulder off his chest. As he struggled for air, his arms flailed around the table until his right hand met the handle of a cold beer tankard. Without thinking, he grabbed it and slammed it straight into Gaston's face. Gaston grunted in pain and released the prince, giving him just enough time to roll off the table and crawl away as fast as he could.

"You can't hide!" Gaston shouted, left hand covering the injured side of his face, right hand pushing down chairs. "I killed that beast, fair and square! Everyone in town believes me."

"Wait Gaston, stop!" LeFou cried as he came towards him. "Just think about what you're doing for a moment!"

"Out of my way, LeFou!"

Maybe he'd had too many beers tonight to think clearly, but LeFou had to understand. Nobody could know about the Beast. It was upsetting enough to know that his greatest kill wasn't going to be mounted on his wall, to have someone come in here now, rubbing it in his face? Who the hell did he think he was anyway?

"Aha!" he shouted as he found his target hiding behind the counter. The prince jumped over, planning to attack him head on, but Gaston was ready. The first punch he swung at him went wide, but the second time he managed to get him squarely in the stomach. The prince stumbled backwards. Gaston grabbed him, flung him into the counter and then to the far wall of the tavern.

The prince struck the wall so hard that half of Gaston's antler collection came crashing down with him. He felt something warm trickling from his nose and when he looked up, he saw Gaston coming at him with a large bar stool. Realizing he only had seconds to respond, he shoved the closest thing he could reach: a pair antlers right into the furniture. The horns locked into the legs of the chair. With an incredible amount of strength, the prince pushed himself forward, sending the both of them rolling across the tavern floor.

When the spinning finally stopped, the prince found himself lying on the floor, a little ways off from Gaston, who was now buried under the combined weight of the chair and the antler rack. Realizing he had only moments to prepare before he got up again, he bounded up on the nearest table and grabbed on to the chandelier. Gaston, who had just started to run at him, could not slow down in time. He skid across the floor beneath him, right into his fur throne. There was a terrible crashing noise. When the prince's feet touched the ground again he could see Gaston lying lopsided beside the fireplace, buried, not only in the last of his antlers, but his favourite portrait as well.

The hunter had never felt more enraged. Never in his life had he lost a tavern brawl, and to a complete stranger no less. But this was only the first round.

"Well don't just sit there, boys," he yelled. "GET HIM!"

The next moment, the tavern filled with the sounds of chair legs scrapping against hardwood as all the male patrons got to their feet. Even as a Beast, the prince knew there were a certain number of wolves he could take on before he had to consider himself outnumbered. This was definitely one of these cases.

He did the next best possible thing he could do in such a situation.

He ran.