A/N: Sorry for the few days' delay. This is a Belle chapter. The last time we saw her, Gaston was threatening to lock her in a closet and go kill the Beast, but was offering her one final chance to consent to him. I tucked a little reference to a trope from TV Tropes in here, so that's for you, "Hidden in the Fourth Wall." Let the Scarpia Ultimatum plot continue!
-Emily :D
Gaston and Belle sat across from each other. Belle chewed on the toast, the French toast. But there wasn't much chewing to be done. It was very soft. She swallowed.
"This—" she started.
"Yes?"
"This is actually," she paused again, "where did you learn to cook like this?"
"I'm a big man, Belle. I like food."
Belle frowned. She wondered which woman from the village had provided the food.
"More milk?"
Belle shook her head.
Gaston cut off another piece of his toast, a big piece, and put it in his mouth. He chewed, his cheeks distended by the sheer size of the bite.
Belle sighed and followed suit, although the piece that she cut off was far smaller than his.
"My mother used to make this for me every Sunday. Every Sunday."
Belle nodded.
"I expect you to continue the tradition for our sons."
"Gaston—"
He shot her a dangerous look and she fell silent.
There was no foreseeable way to escape this trap. Belle was caught.
She shifted in the white dress, the thing just as uncomfortable on as she had suspected that it would be. A cloth napkin hung from it, tucked into the neckline. It hid a little of her so exposed flesh, and for this, she was grateful.
Belle once again shot a furtive glance around herself, as if this move, one she had performed more than a dozen times already this morning, would yield any further ideas than the zero she had come up with so far.
"I'm sending LeFou to get your father for the wedding."
Belle nodded again. Hopefully, her father had made it far, far from the cottage by now. That itself would be a relief.
She studied the man across from her as he shoved another enormous piece of food in his mouth. He was more cunning than she had ever realized. The plan to get her to marry him first with the threat of locking up her father and now threatening to kill the Beast, who he could tell she truly cared for-him even realizing that her lies were lies at all and the significance of such an act on her part: maybe he wasn't book smart, but he certainly had a brain.
But why on Earth was marrying her so absolutely important to him, she wondered. After all... Belle watched his movements, all of them entirely unconcerned about anything but the food in front of him, and then she decided. He didn't love her, not a whit. It really was just... misplaced pride that prompted his actions. And now that pride had made him force himself into her relationship with the Beast, making the simple line that connected her to the Beast into a whole different form: a triangle.
And now he wants to murder the hypotenuse, she thought with a little shudder. She reached out and took a sip of milk to hide the action in retrospect and gave a little smile to Gaston, who had looked up.
What assurances did she have that Gaston wouldn't go after the Beast after the wedding? He had threatened to kill the Beast and then come back and marry her anyway even if she refused the original deal, so who was to say that the reverse was also not true, that he'd marry her and then kill the Beast?
Again, it was his misplaced pride that she had to contend with. If Gaston truly believed her about there being a beast, and she sincerely believed that he did believe her, why would he bother to resist the urge to hunt the Beast, kill him, and mount the stuffed head above his mantle or in the tavern? Gaston had threatened murder already, did she really believed he'd let the Beast alone only because he gave his word?
Belle cut off another piece and put it in her mouth.
No, Belle decided, she didn't believe that at all. Gaston would hunt the Beast regardless of what she did. It was only a matter of when.
And how successful Gaston would be, Belle figured, was wholly contingent on how far in advance she got word to the castle.
"Gaston," Belle said, swallowing her bite, "do you really believe I'm beautiful?"
Gaston looked taken aback. "Well, yes," he said through the food in his mouth. He swallowed it all in a gulp. Gaston leaned forward, giving a winning sort of grin. "You could even be..."
"What?"
"As beautiful as me."
"Oh," Belle feigned a surprised, flattered look. "Surely, you don't mean that."
"I do mean that!" Gaston shouted, powering forward. "I'm not sure that my handsomeness and your beauty can really be compared, but you as a woman, and me as a man-I'm certain there's no more attractive couple in France! In... the world!" Belle hardly had the chance to make a sound before Gaston charged on. "I'm the best, and you're the best-looking girl in town! We were made for each other!" He dropped his voice. "Picture the sons we'll have... even if they inherit your looks and your..."
"Temperment?" Belle supplied. Gaston began to frown and Belle quickly amended with, "Personality!"
"Personality, yes! That's the word I was looking for. Even if they inherit all those things from you, they'll still be worthy of me!"
"I always did want a few sons," Belle said with a wistful note. Not wanting to appear too agreeable, she added with a sigh, "But I also always wanted a daughter."
Gaston considered this for a moment. "You say you want a daughter, hm?"
Belle looked down and away, waiting.
Gaston slammed his fist on the table, making her jump a little. "Then you'll have a daughter! She'll be even more beautiful than you are, maybe with my blue eyes! You'll probably need some help in the kitchen after we have a few of our sons."
"I certainly will," Belle said with a smile.
Gaston suddenly gave her a sidelong look. "Why are you suddenly argeeing with me?"
Belle shrugged. "It's not like I have a choice. Besides, I suppose there are worse things than being forced to marry the handsomest, strongest, most accomplished man in town."
"So true."
"And... I think it's very sweet that you cooked me breakfast."
"I told you I was full of surprises." Gaston got up and started clearing the table. "Don't get used to me doing this kind of stuff. This is women's work."
"Of course."
Belle removed the napkin and followed him into the kitchen, where she was surprised to see a bit of mess. Dishes sat out on the counters, pieces of egg shell were on the floor.
It was obvious. He really had made her breakfast.
Belle's eyebrows went up. The fact that he had cooked such food, and in an expert way, that more than every trophy on the wall showed him to be a dangerous man. He had here a semblance of depth, and that wasn't at all what she needed him to have if she wished to outwit him and win her life back, and the Beast's.
Outwit Gaston? She never thought such a task would be difficult. But, here she was, standing in his kitchen, only a few hours away from being pledged as eternally his.
Gaston squeezed her shoulder as he passed by, on his way to clear the rest of the table. He glanced at her.
She steadied herself and smiled back, directly to his face.
