Gaston watched, feeling his temper rapidly swell the longer the hunter waited for Belle to come into his line of sights, close enough to where he could grab her. D'Arque's words of being cautious lingering in his head, especially hearing the unfortunate news that his prisoner had escaped. "Dangerous woman," he snorted, letting out a dark little chuckle and rolling his eyes, scoffing at that very idea. "Please. Women are delicate creatures. There is no such thing as a 'dangerous' woman. D'Arque, you old senile fool," he growled.
He'd followed Belle and her father the entire way to the prince's estate. He knew there would be holy hell to pay for what he was about to do, but he tired of waiting. Though it deviated deeply from D'Arque's plan, he could wait around no longer. He had waited for Belle long enough. He watched the beautiful brunette from outside one of the castle's balconies, having painstakingly scaled the walls. His expression was one of being forced to endure an unpleasant odor.
The hunter's gaze was unwavering and unabashed. Those eyes did not travel up to Belle's face or her slippers, but they followed her as if really focusing on something a couple of feet further away. Perhaps his introspective nature led him to be locked in thought as he observed, it was hard to know. But he made no gesture of recognition, no raised hand or stiffed nod at all. He kept quiet.
Belle quickened her pace down one of the hallways, searching for fresh rags and hot water for her ailing father. "Maurice…"
The young brunette had no time to react as he grabbed her.
It was supposed to be easy. He'd been following her the better part of several hours. But Belle had never been easy, she did not make it easy for Gaston as she fought, screaming and kicking. The other servants yelled something as she threw a pot. The kidnapping was over in a second. One minute the girl was standing in a kitchen filling a basin with boiling water from a cauldron, searching for a fresh rag for old Maurice, and the next, she was gone. Only one man saw something, but Gaston did not care. His kidnapper knew her well, and she would marry him if she wanted her father alive and relatively unharmed. Well…
That had been the plan, at least.
The trees were veiled in the lightest of mists, their trunks a somber brown with sable cracks that gnarled the bark. The Beast sighed as his eye traveled to the edge of the woodland, and they became silhouettes against a blanket of white, as if it were only daylight where he stood, as if he were encircled by twilight. These days, these walks were the only way he could take his mind off Belle, and even then, most nights, his efforts proved futile. The Beast prince believed that society was one of the worst things about society. Society claimed to prattle on about possessions meaning nothing, to say that objects did not count towards happiness. Then they turned around and rejected people like the disgraced prince, people who had everything, but weren't happy. He stood on the brink of something he could not quite describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on his shoulders and he struggled to take even a single step forward as visions of Belle danced in his mind, as he revisited letting her go.
It was too much. All of it. And yet, somehow, he kept every step cost him. The darkness grew, the pain grew sharper, all of it seemed to only grow in strength and Adam began to wonder if things would ever improve for him following Belle's leave. But he never said a word—not to Lumiere, nor to Mrs. Potts. Sometimes, the prince wondered if that smile, his horribly fake smile, was ever seen through. If someone noticed the sad, broken look in his eyes that he saw these days in a mirror. If they could see beauty where he only saw the Beast. And then he laughed, a bitter, sarcastic laugh at himself. Nobody cared. No one noticed. They never did, do they? The prince had fought for years. And yet, he marched on…
It was time to head back. The cursed Beast Prince had not been prepared to see the old man surrounded by Mrs. Potts and Lumiere, the very one that he recognized to be Belle's father, the rose thief. He looked on the brink of death. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. The prince's voice faltered as he surveyed the mess. "What..?" The table had been overturned and there were books and pots littering the floor. Adam walked over the strewn books and pieces of parchment paper, searching for any sort of clue to what transpired. "What the hell happened here? Lumiere!" he barked.
"Maître, I am so sorry, but he took her!" Lumiere shouted.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Belle! She—she went in search for fresh supplies to tend to her father. She was reading him passages from Romeo and Juliet, and oh, how romantic it was!" he murmured, a strange look in his eyes as he temporarily seemed to forget his unique situation.
"Lumiere, old friend, explain yourself faster or so help me, I will leave you tied to this chair and locked in this godforsaken closet for the rest of the evening!" roared the Beast irately.
"A man came into the castle; he forced his way in and told her that he was rescuing her from you." The prince shook his head in disgust and started to storm down the grand staircase in a panic.
Prince Adam didn't know what to think anymore. The fear traveled in Adam's veins, but never made it to his facial muscles or skin. His complexion remained pale and matt, his blue eyes steady as if he were shopping for food in the marketplace. He let out an understated sigh and turned to leave, showing Lumiere and the others in the room he was not afraid to turn his back on Belle.
Too long had she tormented him. No more. "NO! Maître, you must listen to me!" pleaded Lumiere. "You must listen, she—she did not want to go with him. The girl put up quite the fight and he called her insane, saying that she had fallen in love with you, sire!"
That did it. The Beast froze and turned in his tracks. Did Belle love him? Lumiere gulped and swallowed nervously, taking that as his sign to continue. "When she refused to go with him, he got very angry, picked her up, and carried her kicking and screaming. I think she almost even bit his ear off."
Were this not a dire situation, at that, he might have smiled. But smiling at Belle's bravery was the last thing he felt like doing. The Beast frowned. "What did the man look like, Lumiere?"
"Young, strong, handsome. Black ponytail, Your Grace." Adam let out a growl from the back of his throat at the servant's description as he knew it was none other than Gaston Dupont, the slimy worm.
He knew stories of the man from the maids, how much of a womanizer he was. He didn't trust the man at all.
"Do you know where they went?" The Beast asked.
"No, sire. He threw her over his shoulder and headed down the main staircase towards the front door, young maître."
He let out a grunt and nodded his head, and started running. He had heard enough. Belle was in trouble and he needed her help. He burst out the front door and into the cold night air. The prince looked either direction, searching for her, any kind of clue where the pair had gone. How had no one noticed this man entering the castle? How could he have not heard her screaming? It had been a long time since he had tracked anything. At first, he had hunted and killed for sport, but as the years went on, it just made him feel more animalistic. The prince could smell just the faintest scent of Belle's perfume drifting off to the east, along with another scent that swirled of alcohol and the musky scent of the man's sweat. Another low growl ripped through his throat at the thought of whatever Gaston was going to do to Belle, to his princess… "Belle, if I get out of this, you're mine," he snarled. Soon, he saw footprints in the snow, and he knew he was on the right track.
The man must not have come on horseback, or if he had, he left the stallion at the edge of the castle grounds, for there were no footprints. That was a smart move, considering the wolves would be more likely to hear and hunt a horse than a pair of humans. The Beast continued to run, following the footprints in the snow. At some point, it started to snow. He could feel the fresh flakes of snow sticking to his matted, fur and his paws began to numb and tingle. When he could run no further, he paused for a moment to catch his breath. Every inch of him was cold and felt like ice and his heart was starting to harden in despair, thinking he'd lost them. That's when he heard the booming roll of Gaston's low voice. "You ungrateful harlot! I save your life from that wretched creature, sweet Belle, and you have no thanks for me! When I marry you, I'll show you what it means to respect a man! You will show me respect, or next time my hand flies, I won't stop!" Gaston's authoritative voice roared.
The Beast followed the sound and found the pair in the next clearing over. Belle was laying in the snow, with her arms bound together, a pair of manacles on her wrists, one of her eyes had been blackened, a trail of blood trickling down from one of her brows, the snow now crimson. His coarse whisky tongue licked at Belle's skin on her neck as he practically had her pinned down, his fingers entangled in her dark hair. Every time Belle closed her eyes, Gaston bashed her head backward onto the forest floor beneath, demanding she open them. She didn't want to, she closed them over and over, anything rather than watch his face light up with lust and power. Gaston became angry, his force less controlled, until finally blood ran from the back of her head onto the snow-soaked ground and her head lolled like a doll as she drifted in and out. The man had finished with her anyways. He snorted and whispered into the shell of her ear, "If that bite left a mark, sweetheart, next time my hand flies, Belle, I won't stop, dear."
The Beast craned his neck to see, and almost had to stop himself from smiling. The girl had practically bitten off his ear. He had seen enough. He lunged, not even thinking twice, tackling Gaston and wrenching the hunter and his former friend off the disgraced beauty. He threw his body weight behind Gaston's fist that edged closer to his face. It hit his jaw with such impact that blood pooled in Gaston's mouth, causing him to spit off to the side and toss his dark ponytail over his shoulders.
The Beast let out a guttural roar and with his own two hands, he grasped Gaston's head in his hands, bringing his kneecap up to the hunter's nose. There was a blunt crack and he released his dark-haired head. Crimson blood gushed from both his nostrils and his nose was twisted right as he screamed in pain, fuming.
"My nose!" bellowed Gaston. "You broke my goddamn nose!"
"Yeah," growled the prince lowly, feeling his voice rise an octave as his temper swelled. "Don't think I didn't notice your little partnership with the owner of the insane asylum. You forgot, old friend. My castle walls have eyes and ears. You dare show your face to me or if you ever come near Belle or this castle again, I can personally guarantee that I will haul you down to my dungeons myself, where you will die a slow, painful death for all the suffering you cause, and I'll get D'Arque. Make no mistake about that, Dupont. Your little stunts almost got Belle killed, so I'd say we're still not even, old friend," Prince Adam snarled through gritted teeth.
Gaston drew back his fist and it ploughed into his side; it was like hitting a wall head on. The Beast's guts smashed together, blood vessels bursting. The prince repaid this by punching Gaston's jaw, his fist colliding with all his body weight that he could muster. It had been a long time since he'd felt such unbridled rage. He continued this battering until Gaston slumped to the forest floor. His chest gently rose and sank with each shallow breath he drew. Panting, he stood triumphant over the man that had been his adversary. He knew just by one look at the battered, broken man at his feet that Gaston Dupont would not bother Belle ever again.
It was a moment before he realized he'd forgotten Belle. Mentally cursing himself, he hurried towards Belle, where she lay, stirring and mumbling something as she came to from passing out. "It's about time you found me," she whispered hoarsely, wincing only a little as one of his claws drifted upwards to touch the cut above her brow. "I…hoped…it would…be you, Prince," she sighed.
He froze. That was the first time she had called him by her title. Her wrists were sore, cracked, and bleeding from trying to escape the last hour or so. The Beast knew she was kidding, that she wasn't mad with him that he had taken so long, but he could not match her lighthearted tone in this moment. Not now. Not when she had…when she had…He couldn't bear to think it. He stifled the roar forming in the back of his throat and resolved if he ever saw Gaston again, he would kill the hunter, no matter the cost, his own soul be damned. "Are you injured? Did he…anywhere else?" he asked, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt crash over him, that he hadn't been able to protect Belle from the worst of Gaston's rages, and now look at her. The guilt was like ice in his veins. It could have been boiling outside, and he'd still be frozen on the inside. He could not melt it on his own, nor shift it at all. He needed Belle to forgive him. Gingerly, he knelt and shifted her slightly in his arms, regarding the brunette beauty that had so very easily stolen his heart. The two seemed to have a silent conversation as they stared into each other's eyes. Belle looked away first, tears threatening to blur her vision, when a hand encircled hers. Adam's. It was soft and warm, almost reassuring her, as if the owner of that hand had sensed her hesitation. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear. "Belle, I want you to promise me something," he whispered, his expression utterly serious as he brushed back a lock of dark hair from her face. "I know you—we both said some things, but you clearly want to talk to me about something. So just say it."
"It's nothing," she whispered, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "It's just…things were getting a little…intense." She paused, staring into his brilliant icy blue eyes, a myriad of different hues. "But I'm back, and I promise you this, prince. I won't be leaving you ever again, I swear."
"You really mean that, Belle?" he asked, feeling his lips turn up in a tiny smile as he shifted her in his arms, holding her tightly.
"Yes, I do," Belle whispered reassuringly. She bit her lip, hesitating for only a fraction of a second. "I…I love you," she whispered.
The Beast opened his mouth to respond but did not get a change as the sound of something exploding filled the air, and a warm fire began to pulsate throughout his entire body. He watched the light around him flicker, changing colors from amber, to ruby, then back to gold. He clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palms, and was astonished to see that he was slowly reverting to his human form.
This is not supposed to happen, not like this. His mouth filled with the coppery tang of blood, and it felt like fire was rushing through his veins. He could hear Belle screaming in the distance, but her voice sounds far away and muffled. He groaned as his vision shifted and his world erupted with colors. At first, it hurt, but then it felt like he was filling with a rejuvenated sense of life, a new purpose.
He pushed himself up off the ground, studying his now-human hands, which were trembling. He turned back to Belle, who had a hand over her mouth in utter shock and horror. He knew what she saw. Belle gaped open at Prince Adam, his curse broken, as she observed his sharp jaw, chin and cheekbones. On either side of his straight nose were two piercing blue eyes. His dark brows were graceful, but currently furrowed in a frown. All of it was framed by luscious blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. He didn't know what had happened to his attire, but his attire had changed to a pair of simple black breeches and a white linen shirt. Lifting his hand slowly, Prince Adam cupped the woman's face and as he did so, he felt Belle tense slightly before leaning against him, her cheek grazing his palm ever so lightly. The effect it had on him however was anything but insignificant. She was so beautiful; couldn't she see that?
"Um, what—what just happened to you?" she squeaked, but Prince Adam raised a gentle hand to her lips, effectively silencing her. He sank his hands into her dark curls as he tilted her head upward to expose her throat. He had always known she was beautiful of course, from the moment he had first laid eyes upon her, but now, it was as if she were the most beautiful thing he would ever encounter in his life, more beautiful than any living creature or flower. Somehow, he knew, right now, in that moment, with that look of wonder and fear and nervousness displayed on her face, that he would never again see anything as gorgeous as Belle.
His desire was reaching his limit, and he knew if he did not do something about it soon, he was going to explode, and for Adam, it obliterated every thought. Not knowing when it happened, his lips were suddenly locked with Belle's, kissing her. The start of the soft touch sent a strong feeling of warmth spiraling through his system.
Belle's eyes closed fearlessly, but the closure didn't let her see darkness, it instead created colors of fondness. Her tense nerves soon began to relax, her troubles, her pain began to melt away and the surroundings began to disappear leaving only her, her and Adam. This. This felt true. This felt good. This felt right. His lips felt so gentle so warm, she felt her hands begin to slide up his chest and encircle his neck, as the kiss began to grow heavy. Adam's hand slid off her face and tightened around her waist. She continued kissing him hungrily wanting more. She felt herself being pushed against the trunk of the tree, Adam's body pressing against hers.
The kiss continued, their lips moving in perfect sync and the kiss becoming more passionate by the second. Her right hand flowed onto his skin her as her left hand found purchase in his blond hair. Their lips parted and clasped onto one another once again with an adding of more pressure. Adam's hand slid smoothly onto her arm, lifting it and pinning it against the tree. Their kiss grew greedier, her mouth locking tighter. The heat flowing throughout her body began to grow as she felt his other hand slide through the skirts of her dress and onto the shirt of her dress. Reluctantly, Belle removed her lips from Adam, leaning frailly against the tree. Her eyes leisurely began to open, eyelids relaxed as she slowly sucked in the cold air. Adam stared back, his icy, glacier blue eyes calm. She rested her forehead upon his as her hand slipped around his back, pulling him close and cutting off the gap between him. Her breath was slow. In strength, she quietly murmured, "I love you". Adam's slow breathing emitted the same words. Their lips captured once more before letting go. For the first time in perhaps forever, his mind was locked into the present. The worries of his life evaporated, and his usual mode of hurrying from one thing to the next was suspended, as he had no wish for their kiss to end. Drunk on endorphins, his only desire was to touch her, to move his hands under her smooth layers of the skirts of her dress and feel her perfect pale softness. In moments, their soft caress became firmer, and he savored her lips and the quickening of her breath that matched his own. A kiss like this was a beginning, a promise of much more to come. She broke apart first, a small little wry smile on her lips. "Come," she said happily, holding out her hand. "Come and meet my mother. She'll want to meet her daughter's future husband," she teased, her gaze drifting downwards towards the beautiful yellow gold ring the prince had slipped onto her finger. He went with her, feeling happier than he had in a long time.