CHAPTER 5

BELLE could hardly take her eyes off of Agathe, not wanting to believe it. Her gaze drifted down to her wrists, at the skin of her wrists that was rubbed raw, chafed, and bleeding. Had the Prince's men been holding her captive?

Why wasn't she back in Villeneuve? How on God's green earth could she have traveled so far, and why had the prince's men taken her, if they were in fact, who she had escaped from? Too many questions and no answers were swirling around in her tired, throbbing head.

She could not have imagined the prince would be so cruel as to hang a sweet-hearted, kind woman like Agathe who had done nothing wrong. Though Belle could not be certain of this, she was positive. Agathe had not a violent or wicked bone in her body.

Never once had she raised a hand against someone in anger, or stolen something, or trespassed, even, as the prince was so blatantly accusing her of doing, in all the time that Belle had known her. Yet the proof was right in front of her.

Unable to get in a good breath, her jaw hanging open in shock, she turned her questioning eyes towards her master and realized this was exactly what he had done. That he intended to hang Agathe.

Belle bit her bottom lip in hesitation, realizing she had only a fraction of a second to act before the guards would converge on Agathe like vultures surrounding their cornered prey. She could not—would not—let sweet Agathe go to the gallows simply for the crime of potentially trespassing. She had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that there was more than what was spoken, which admittedly, was very little thus far at all. Nevertheless, she knew she couldn't stand by idly and watch as someone she cared for getting hurt.

She had already hurt her Papa.

She couldn't let Agathe get hurt too. Agathe so far had been instrumental in helping treat her father's failing health. Agathe had done so much for Belle and her father and asked for so little if nothing in return.

The most Belle had been able to offer at the time was a loaf of bread here and there, or a small jar of jam to go with it.

But not anymore. Now it was her turn to give something back, even if it meant her own demise.

She thought she could live with such a sacrifice. She had already given up that which she loved and held most dear. What was left to work with? Belle craned her neck and had to stand on tiptoe to try to see what was going on. Agathe, despite now being surrounded by at least eight of the prince's guards, she stood tall and proudly, her back straight, head held high, her strawberry blonde curls tumbling down to her shoulders, the violent gales of wind whipping her hair about off her face.

The beggar woman, who was now admittedly looking nobler the longer Belle gaped at her like this, made it perfectly clear to all in attendance with her posture that she was not going to let the prince's savage snarling and barking intimidate her.

The prince began to stalk his way towards Agathe, shouting a command in rapid-fire French toward the guard closest to him to open the iron-wrought gate. The guard seemed hesitant to do so, though the man had no choice but to comply now.

The prince quite literally stomped his way through the snow towards where Agathe calmly stood, waiting, something else glinting in his eyes.

Something that made Belle shiver and grit her teeth, this sensation having nothing to do with the cold winter wind that whipped through the air just then. She tried to repress the violent shudder that clawed its way down her spine but couldn't hide it.

A tap on her shoulder quickly brought Belle back down to earth. She felt like she jumped out of her skin, a hand over her racing heart, as she turned and faced Gaston. Only to find the dark-haired soldier eyeing her with no small measure of worry.

"Come away with me, Belle. This is of no concern to you. Are you alright?" Gaston's voice was surprisingly gentle and held a slight warbling vibration to it, which honestly startled Belle a bit.

She had not been expecting Gaston to show any semblance of kindness towards Agathe or any other woman admittedly, she thought, that was not her. Belle blinked owlishly at the war captain, nodding. As quickly as the ugly feeling and shudder had worked its way down her spine, it was gone the moment Gaston spoke. How could he manage it?

The man in front of her was an enigma, and the fact that Gaston Dupont was proving to be a man of many layers and multifaceted, more so than she'd previously been led to believe, didn't sit well with her. She'd believed him to be one-dimensional.

Shallow. But the growing look of concern in the former war captain's eyes was unmistakable to her. There was a part of Gaston, however small, that did care for Agathe in some way. Though in what way, Belle didn't have time to ponder it, she hoped, if they made it through this, he would tell her. Despite the fact that Belle could not love him, not in the way that Gaston was hoping she would, there was a part of Belle that respected the soldier for what he was, and at this moment, his confident tone made Belle feel quite safe, and confident.

"I'm fine," she whispered back, still keeping her gaze fixated on Agathe, revulsion seeping into her tone. "What can we do for her, Gaston? She's saved Papa's life more than once, I can't let this happen! We—we have to try to do something to help her!"

As she whisper-hissed the words through gritted teeth, Belle caught sight of her master himself as the prince reached Agathe and grabbed hold of her upper arm, twisting it so that it was now pinned behind her, while his other arm seized her wrist, preventing her from plunging into the interior of her cloak, perhaps for a dagger with which she intended to defend herself.

The prince then positioned himself, so that he was behind her to avoid Agathe lashing out and trying to kick him in anger.

In response, Belle could feel Gaston stiffen in anger. Reacting quickly, she stalked forward with the intent of doing…of doing…well, she wasn't sure exactly what her plan was here, but she knew she could not just idly stand by and continue to watch.

Though before she could take a step further, she felt Gaston's hand curl around her forearm and yank her back, taking hold of her forearms and almost slamming her roughly into the iron fence. The move was loud as her shoulders stung with the sheer force of the impact, though the Prince and his guards (and everyone else, for that matter) seemed too preoccupied on Agathe now.

"No, Belle!" Gaston hissed down at Belle, purposefully lowering his voice, and trying to keep his voice from drawing his friend's attention to him. "Charging out there half-cocked and confident is not going to help Agathe get out of this mess. You and your father are under enough trouble with Adam as it was. You'll only make matters worse for her!" Gaston hissed, leaning down, and grinding his teeth.

"I can't just stand here and let her get killed and do nothing!" Belle growled lightly, her voice trembling with emotion, as her whole body shook.

Which, Gaston wasn't entirely sure.

"She's helped Papa, Gaston, I can't just—"

"Just what?!" Gaston retorted in angry whispers, his voice sharp and almost condescending. "Risk your life in return for Agathe's and get yourself arrested and sent to the gallows for insubordination a second time? Then what's next, Belle? Hmm? This cycle of yours will just be an endless circle of rescuing and sacrifice. I don't think Agathe wants that for you, she can handle herself. This is her mess, let her dig herself out of it, Belle. In any case…Adam will…" Gaston swallowed the lump in his throat, almost not wanting to finish. "Adam is sure to punish you in the worst way possible if you do, and that, I cannot allow, Belle."

The last sentence escaped Gaston's lips as barely audible, lost among the winds of winter, so quiet that even Belle had trouble hearing Gaston.

Gaston let his head fall as he leaned forward so his forehead accidentally grazed hers, or perhaps he'd planned it this way as an intimate gesture, his hands still gripping onto Belle's forearms in a deathlike grasp, tight enough to break them if the man weren't careful, though, with her, he always was. He did not wish Belle to suffer anymore.

It was as Belle was studying the shift in the hunter and soldier's countenance, surprised by the act of caring for her, that suddenly, a rather reckless idea came to her. Gaston was sure to hate it, but there was no time. Agathe was already starting to be led away.

Before Belle's courage and resolve could falter, she managed to wriggle her way out of the soldier's ironclad grip as she felt Gaston's grip around her arm loosen and ducked out from underneath his arm before he could yell at her.

As her body began to move away, Gaston instinctively opened his hand to catch hold of Belle's delicate wrist and drag her back kicking and screaming if need be. He had promised Maurice to keep an eye on her as soon as the old man had gotten wind the two of them were to be escorted to the castle during the midst of all of the commotion.

But it was too late. Her hand passed over his own just as Gaston curled his fingers closed in the hopes of entrapping her back here by his side, where he could keep an eye on her, but all he grazed was the frigid winter air.

"Damn it," he swore through gritted teeth and clenched his jaw tightly shut in ire. Come back…to me…come back to me…He repeated it in his head like a mantra, as though he thought chanting it over and over again would summon Belle back to his side, but it didn't work.

Belle was gone, and halfway through the gate.

"Let her go, Your Majesty, she's harmless!" Belle warned as she bravely stepped towards her master.

The prince jerked his head upwards to regard his new hearth keep, as though just the sound of Belle's curt tone sent a lance through his chest. Belle fought against the urge to crinkle her nose in disgust and inwardly shivered, wondering why in God's name he was looking at Agathe in her tattered robes and toying with a curl of her hair with an unidentifiable look that she couldn't quite identify?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had to get Agathe out of this. But how?

"You, little belle, this is not your concern," Prince Adam sneered, the edges of his lips curling upward as though he'd laid eyes on something bad.

Now that she had her master's full and undivided attention, Belle hadn't thought out her next move and as such, was not sure what to do.

Fear bubbled and churned in the pit of her swooping stomach, and she swore she tasted bile in her throat.

The only good thing that came from her interfering in this manner was the prince had relinquished his grip on Agathe's arm and shoved her away from him. She'd caught the prince behaving like a child sneaking a treat after dinner.

But that was beside the point for right now. Right now, she had much more concerning problems to deal with.

"What on earth are you punishing her for, you—you half-wit? What crime has she committed here?" she challenged, unable to keep the note of anger from seeping its way into her tone.

The prince's expression soured. "How dare you talk back to me like that, putain? Have you no sense of your position here?" he snarled, ignoring Circe tugging on the sleeve of his jerkin, intending to calm him down. He pointedly ignored her, shoving the blonde princess away from him. "She's trespassed, Belle. The prince can do as he likes, young mademoiselle, so I suggest you hold your—"

"Your father did as he liked, but I'm sure you already know what happened to him. His own people ran him out!" Belle snapped haughtily, stalking her way to sandwich herself in between the gap of space where the prince stood and Agathe.

Agathe's face had drained of color, and she was suddenly looking wary and utterly exasperated as if even she had thought Belle would do well now to hold her tongue, but it was too late for Belle to take back her words. The damage was already inflicted.

"ENOUGH!" Prince Adam bellowed, his cobalt blue eyes darkening, almost cerulean in color as his eyes flashed darker with unmeasured rage. "You go too far, wench! You dare bring my father into this?! You speak of what you do not know, harlot!" he shouted, ignoring the collective gasp from the crowd around him as quicker than Belle thought possible, her new master covered the gap of distance between the two of them, roughly six feet or so, and violently backhanded the young brunette across a delicate cheek. She fell onto the snow-covered ground with a cry, a hand on her jaw made torpid by just a single harsh blow. The pain came rushing instantly after.

Belle saw the prince pull off his thick leather hide gloves with blue eyes glowering at her. Dull, listless, yet consumed with a cold hostility that she was sure he must have learned.

The razor-sharp edges of the prince's rings on his fingers had cut cleanly into the soft flesh as his hand had made contact with the skin of her cheek. As she raised a shaking hand, she felt the warm, sticky garishness of what had to be her blood. Tears stung and blurred the edges of her vision, but she held them at bay as she swallowed hard. She would not allow the prince to see her cry.

Belle was given no time to react as with a curt snap of the prince's fingers, two guards bounded forward on their heels and seized her from under her armpits and wrenched her to her shaking feet.

The prince turned his head almost lazily to regard Gaston, and the vengeful anger which glared upon his handsome, angular features chilled the blood in his veins.

"My dear man, did you truly think that I did not know? That this pretty little dove was the young mademoiselle who's held your heart captive all these weeks?" he asked his friend rhetorically. "I have spies everywhere. Even in your pathetic village, Monsieur Dupont," he confessed. "Nothing happens in Paris or any part of France, for that matter, that I do not know about, old friend. You have been keeping her from me."

Gaston realized with a heavy feeling in his chest that Adam meant to complete that which he had been afraid of. Why he'd not mentioned Belle to his friend in any of their correspondence here lately. His plan was to send Belle to the gallows alongside Agathe for insubordination and leave him as a witness, to remind him who held the power.

"Adam!" Gaston shouted in shock, having to raise his voice to ensure he was heard over the wind. "Surely you wouldn't do this! Let the women go, they have done nothing. Both of them have not wronged you!" His voice trailed off as the prince glowered at him, now certain that he meant to carry out his threat of having both of these women killed here. And then he would have broken his promise to old Maurice to try to do what he could to protect Belle. The man would never grant him his blessing or permission to marry his daughter after this error.

"Please, monsieur," Belle begged, keeping her head lowered, not summoning enough strength to look her master in the eye. "Let Agathe go. Keep me, take me, do what you will, but release her. Surely no crime that Agathe could have committed warrants a death sentence," she pleaded tearfully. "She's kind. She's gentle, monsieur. She's…" she paused, searching for the right words. "An old family friend, monsieur," Belle whispered.

"So, she's troublesome, in other words," the prince snorted, rolling his eyes at her description. He huffed and kept his arms folded across his chest, seeming to shrink into his jerkin and cloak for warmth as much as he possibly could. "I suppose I shouldn't find that surprising, considering your behavior towards the aristocracy thus far, Belle."

Gaston's heart shattered at Belle's fruitless appeal. He had to find a way to get here and Agathe out of there to safety. Before he could move, however, the prince's maniacal laughter filled the grounds and echoed to the edge of the Wolves Woods, sending a chill of revulsion down his spine.

"Pretty little belle," the prince corrected his hearth keep. "Rest assured I will do with you and this trespasser whatever it is that I please," he chuckled, as though enjoying some private joke with himself. "And you, darling, are in no position to ask for anything." His tone rose to match his angry mood. Belle stood trembling at the thought of what was to come. She had not thought this through.

"I must confess, I have no use for a hearth keep who disobeys me and talks back as you do," the Prince said to Belle, with sickening mocking compassion as he stroked his chin in pensive thought. "I think perhaps I would be doing you a favor, little dove, if my men here were to remove this troublesome tongue of yours that's gifted you with the talent for trouble, wouldn't you agree? I could still keep my hearth keep. I like my women silent, and you truly are a pretty thing. I think I should have my men here leave your face alone. I like you pretty. T'would be a shame to ruin your natural beauty, but your tongue has to go." He crinkled his nose and pulled a face of disgust and chuckled to himself.

Belle's grew wide, while Agathe standing beside her grew angry, though she made no move.

She seemed to be fixated on Gaston. Belle shook her head in horror. "No, please, no," she begged through her tears and tried to move back away towards the flung open gates with the intent of making a run for it into the woods.

"Do it! Now!" The prince commanded his guards, and he stood back to watch, despite the horrified whispers and murmurs of his staff, who looked shocked at what was about to happen to the young woman, though none stepped up to help her.

The armored men moved around Belle and Agathe, stopping the women's hope for escape. They knelt, two each at her wrists, and the same around her ankles, as they pinned her to the ground. Belle squirmed and thrashed with all of her might as one of the guards raised his dagger and let the blade ghost along the skin of her now-bruised cheek, seeming to take a sick delight in enjoying this.

Her terrified shrieks and guttural wails flooded the castle's grounds and echoed throughout.

Gaston's pounding heart threatened to explode from his chest as he watched Belle's torment, not sure how much more he could stand.

"Adam!" he roared, hardly daring to believe it. "I beg of you! STOP!" he roared, nearly sending his mind insane with his urge to help the women.

"No! Your Grace! Please, no!" Belle screamed in terror and could only writhe in agony against her captors as the man holding the dagger began to press harder as she squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tears sliding down the slope of her temple.

And then—agony. For the first few moments of the blade cutting into her cheek, she screamed. Screamed until her mouth filled with the taste of copper and her tongue coated in blood. This was it. She was going to die here.

This man was going to carve up her face and then he'd kill her. And her papa would probably never know. The prince's men would cover up the crime, she was sure of it. No one, save her father, would miss her, a lowly peasant woman from provincial Villeneuve.

Gaston roared in anger, more a warrior than he had ever been before.

He could not idly stand by as a witness any longer to his old friend's cruelty. He would kill them all himself or die before allowing his lovely Belle one more moment of anguish. The prince would have to kill him to stop him. They had all better hope that they killed him.

Blood flashed in his eyes until all he saw was red, and he knew it had nothing to do with the blood that now trickled down Belle's cheek and onto the snow-covered ground. Gasps and startled shrieks from the prince's servants were heard from behind, but again, no one dared to step forward to help the mademoiselle from the prince's guards.

No one, except for him. His only purpose at this point was getting Belle and Agathe to safety, back to the village and far away from Adam now. In a flash of reflexive movement, Gaston drew his sword against the two guards blocking his way, holding him at bay with the tips of their own weapons. He wished he'd thought to bring his gun.

But a good old-fashioned sword would do. With a wide circle of his blade, Gaston removed the sword hands of both incompetent fools who looked barely over twenty-and-one years. Hardly men at all. He then took care of them on the follow-through, and the two guards crumpled to the snow-covered ground, quickly staining red, no longer a threat to him or to the ladies in danger.

Leaping to the edge of the intimidating iron-wrought massive gates, before his resolve could falter and fail him completely, he seized the prince by the hair and grabbed his old friend—former, he had to tell himself wildly as Gaston gritted his teeth, by the waist, holding Adam close to him with his arm. He pressed his blade to the column of his throat with his left hand. He hated it had come to this, but Prince Adam was going to serve as the human shield and his ticket for getting out of here and ensure Belle and the lady Agathe's safety now.

"Order them off of her!" Gaston roared, demanding of his once childhood best friend.

The prince said nothing despite the horrified gasps and shouts emanating from his servants behind them as Gaston spun them on his heels to face the crowd. He did not want to hurt Adam, but the man was leaving Gaston with no other choice.

He swallowed down past a lump in his throat and pressed the tip of his sword even tighter to Adam's throat, secretly relishing the subtle drop of a bead of crimson that trickled its way down his throat and onto the ground by the prince's leather boot.

Gaston admittedly never thought that their friendship would have come to this, but it was too bloody well late to take it back now. He'd left him with no other choice. He'd threatened his Belle.

Which made his next words that he uttered to the prince as he leaned close enough to whisper into the shell of the man's ear that much more satisfying.

"Make them stop, or I will cut out your evil heart."