CHAPTER 6
GASTON ground his teeth and fought against the urge to plunge the tip of his blade into his own friend's chest, though his fingers were twitching. He breathed a sigh of relief as the prince barked out a hoarse, rough command.
"STOP!" Adam ordered his guards, all of whom were looking more than a little shocked and at a loss for how to react that one of the prince's own friends was betraying him. "STOP!" he shouted again, bellowing at the top of his lungs, as Gaston pulled Prince Adam away from the iron-wrought gates and dragged him out near the edge of the Wolves' Woods.
The captain turned his attention to the guards holding Belle, his stomach lurching as he looked at Belle's bleeding cheek. "Move away from her. NOW!" Gaston yelled.
The men stood fast in place.
The low guttural growl that escaped from deep within Gaston's broad chest caused his chest to almost vibrating from the sound as he brought his blade so deep into Adam's skin, he heard his friend grunt, afraid that just drawing in a breath would cause it to slice through his throat. He could tell that Gaston was serious.
"Move away from the women or your Prince's blood is going to stain this ground. Right now! Do I need to say it a second time?" Gaston roared, hoping he wouldn't have to follow through on his promise if he could very well at all help it.
The prince gave his men a brief but motionless affirmative, understanding that Gaston was making no idle threat, that this was not merely sport to the soldier.
Still maintaining an iron grip on the prince by the waist, Gaston focused his efforts on what was left of the guards.
He found the one who'd cut Belle's cheek so horribly and scarred her perfect and beautiful face and dispatched him before the guard even had time to draw his own sword from his sheath.
The stupid, foolish man would bleed to his death in a matter of minutes, aware of all that went on around him, and helpless to do anything to stop it from happening.
Belle crawled slowly out of the way, only to feel a surprisingly strong but soft pair of hands help her upright, and she found herself staring deep into the piercing eyes of Agathe, who was looking more serious than she had ever seen the beggar woman on the streets.
She opened her mouth to voice a breathless thanks, though before she could, Agathe put a finger to her lips, and motioned for Princess Circe to come forward and join the two of them.
The beautiful blonde cast a hesitant look towards the situation and before either Monsieur's Cogsworth or Lumiere or even Mrs. Potts could stop her, she darted forward and ran towards Agathe's outstretched arms.
Belle blinked in confusion, not sure what was going on, though it would seem that Agathe and Circe were familiar with one another by the way the two young women behaved, with Agathe clamping a firm shoulder on the younger woman's shoulders, and stepping back, bringing Belle with her, as Gaston became a raging killing machine, taking on all of the prince's men with his arm full of Adam.
The guards rushed him, one right after the other, yet his anger and fervor and antagonizing hurt at the prince's betrayal and at Belle's betrayal and rejection too for refusing his hand met each of the guards' advances.
Defeat was not an option while Belle's life was at stake.
Belle watched, her face draining of what little color was left in it, to begin with, as the soldier wielded his sword as if it were a part of them, dispatching each guard easily.
She could only imagine the horrors she would bear witness to if the man had brought his hunting rifle. Either way, the massacre in front of her was entirely her fault.
Belle squeezed her eyes shut as bile rose in her throat, warm, sticky, garish blood still trickling down her cheek.
Her knees buckled and shook, and only the tempered strength of Agathe's firm grip on her shoulders kept her in place, as did the occasional touch from the Princess.
"GASTON! LET ME GO!" The prince roared in as loud a bellow as he could possibly muster, though Gaston ignored him as the prince attempted to writhe free of him.
Though it did little good. Gaston had always been the stronger one growing up.
Finally, when the edge of the woods stood empty but the five of them, the rest of the servants having scrambled back up to the castle at the prince's commands to fetch a horse and a ranger, anyone fast enough who could deliver a message to the king, Gaston sheathed his sword and switched his grip back to Adam's head and yanked forward hard on the man's thick blond ponytail.
Each time his friend squirmed and hollered, Gaston's grip tightened until he threatened to scalp the man if Adam couldn't manage to stand still and behave for five minutes.
He stalked, yes, stalked, his way towards the women, Agathe impulsively taking several steps back and bringing both Belle and the blonde German Princess with her.
Though he paused as he reached out his arm for Belle to take, silently trying to communicate with his eyes towards Agathe and the Princess that they needed to come along.
"Come," Gaston ordered hoarsely, the urgency in his tone evident, though he faltered a little bit as Belle could not bear to look Gaston in the eyes.
He froze, unable to bear the mistrust with which old Maurice's daughter eyed him as she shrank back into Agathe's chest, away from Gaston.
Something was wrong, something more than Gaston saving the women's lives just now, more than her being a prisoner of the prince. He vowed to find out what had stolen away her faith in him.
However, now his only thought was getting Belle and Agathe to safety and tending to Belle's wounded and bleeding cheek before infection set in and it was sure to scar her face horribly.
"Please, Belle," he whispered, lowering his voice, hoping that a softer tone would help convince her to come away. "We have to go."
His dark eyes shimmered with unshed moisture that wasn't exactly tears per se as he begged her to take the arm that he was now offering his Belle.
It was a debilitating sick apprehension and twisting fear that kept Belle rooted to the ground, unable to move, much less form a coherent thought.
The only thing she was able to think about was the burning, searing pain in her face from the cut trickling blood down her left cheek.
She stood, swaying on the spot for a moment out of lightheadedness and a little bit of blood loss, though mostly, Belle felt as though she were in a state of shock.
The moment of uncertainty almost shattered Gaston's heart and wounded him more than anything else Belle could have done that was meant to physically cut him.
All Gaston wanted was to gather Belle in his arms and whisk her away back to Villeneuve, get her father, and take both of them somewhere far away from the prince.
However, the soldier was quick to recognize that she was extremely fragile. Her delicate condition seemed not only physical. Gaston knew he would have to be careful with Belle.
He had to remind himself that she had sacrificed her freedom, said goodbye to her only living family member with the notion she would never see Maurice again, and now, some bastard who dared to call himself a guard had done the exact opposite and had cut her face.
"Please," Gaston asked again, careful to try to keep his voice as level as possible, though just a twinge of annoyance and anger was seeping through his tone now. "Your life depends on it." His dark narrowed eyes begged Belle and the German Princess Circe to step towards him. Needing to still maintain his firm grip on Adam, he outstretched his hand again, hoping Belle would take it.
Belle stared at Gaston's arm, hesitating, and torn by indecision. She noticed with no small amount of horror and disbelief that Agathe had not followed her movements.
As Agathe slowly lifted her gaze and met Belle's dark eyes with her sparkling green ones, she nodded.
"Go," Agathe instructed, her tone curt and clipped, inclining her head slightly to gesture for Circe and Belle to leave with Gaston, indicating without saying in so many words that she was going to remain behind here.
Belle vehemently shook her head, flinched as even just trying to move hurt. She turned her head to the side and spat out a slather of blood, bile rising up in her throat.
"N—no, Agathe, you have to come with us, you have to!" Belle cried, stepping forward and tugging on Agathe's sleeve of her overly long brown and tattered wool robes.
Agathe turned her head as Belle parted her lips open to speak, only to have to turn away and spit more blood. She glowered at Prince Adam du Barreau in a way that was sure to kill through the sheer force of her ice-cold glare.
The widowed beggar woman of Villeneuve didn't seem as agitated as a normal human being should be given the situation, but there was something different in her features.
Maybe it was her kind of silent, seething fury, or maybe rather it was an immense look of disappointment.
Agathe briefly turned towards the prince's fiancée, a brief expression of sympathy flitted across her face.
"Your carriage, milady, is waiting for you at the back gates. One of the servants should escort you and see you safely there."
The German princess did not need to be told twice, turning on her heels, and fled without ever looking back.
Belle couldn't be sure, but she swore she thought a look of revulsion flitted across the young princess's face upon witnessing the carnage and shot a look of disgust towards the prince for his despicable behavior towards Agathe.
The Princess was smart enough not to look back once.
Belle turned towards Agathe, watching as the princess's slender silhouette vanished, turning back towards Agathe only when she completely disappeared from Belle's line of sight and opened her mouth to try to speak, though almost choked on blood that welled on her tongue.
Agathe noticed this and knitted her brows. She frowned and pursed her lips into a thin, rigid line.
"Don't speak to me. You are hurt, Belle. Your cheek will need tending to, you should not talk now. Your time is fleeting. Leave. Now, while you still have what light is left before the sun sets beyond the horizon. Gaston, you will take Belle back home. On your way, the path takes you through the Wolves Wood, but if you hurry, you won't run into anything…unsavory." A shadow flitted across her face. "You should go. Now. Please don't make me say it again," Agathe warned.
The case was very similar to her voice. She was still just as calm and collected as ever, but somehow much more menacing.
Watching the Prince's face twist and contort in dread and outrage as Agathe spoke brought Belle a secret sickening sense of sheer delight.
"Let me handle our aristocratic Prince." She crinkled her nose in disgust. "I know men of these types. Adam does not frighten me, Belle, Gaston. He may imprison me if he so wishes, but I shan't let you take the blame for my mistake." Agathe's tone was clipped and utterly angry.
"Mistake?" Gaston repeated hoarsely, his gaze flitting nervously from Belle to Agathe, to the Princess, and then again, to the prince.
Without waiting for Agathe to elaborate, he turned his attention back towards Belle.
"Yes," came Agathe's voice, sounding laced to the brim with bitterness as she looked upon the prince, venom in her eyes, and anger positively dripping from her tone.
Belle swallowed a lump in her throat despite her dry throat screaming for relief and even that really ached.
As much as she could not bring herself to truly love Gaston, at least, that was what Belle told herself was so, she decided that she wanted that security.
She made up her mind to try to depend on Gaston now as he had done the same with her, even if Belle would regret this later.
Belle nervously and slowly took hold of his forearm, her fingers trembling as he righted her gait on unsteady feet.
She knew she needed to find a way out and a way back home to Papa, and Gaston might very well be the only help that would come.
Her heart soared at just the thought of seeing her father again, but she could not forget what cruelty the prince had inflicted on her, even if it were the guard that had done it, was upon his orders.
For a moment, Gaston looked at Belle, thanking God and His Angels that she was about to be returned to him.
Perhaps after this, after seeing what he had done for her, the lengths he had been willing to go to and had gone in order to protect her, then she would finally begin to see.
That he was the one destined to marry, it was always him.
Belle bit her bottom lip and nervously slipped her hand into hers. She would go with Gaston, for the chance to see her father again, but she would trust no one at all.
Not even Gaston. Belle slightly nodded as Gaston, as gently as he could, wound his arm around her waist and walked as quickly as he dared towards the edge of the estate, where he had left his horse, a black Friesian stallion, a real beast of a monster, and his companion in many battles.
He dragged Prince Adam roughly by his ponytail, with Belle tucked safely in his gentle grasp, the prince thrashing helplessly and angrily behind his friend.
Gaston turned his head over his shoulder to survey his angered former friend, who was now behaving more like a rabid beast than a wild animal. He looked towards Agathe.
She nodded, silently shooting him a look that suggested she would be alright. But that wasn't enough for Gaston. He turned towards the prince.
"If you cry out or lay a hand against old Aggie here, then I'll pin you to this tree and leave you to bleed out, Adam," Gaston threatened.
Gaston murmured a prayer of thanks to God that all of the prince's servants had been easily scared off by the scene, though only Monsieur's Lumiere and Cogsworth remained close enough to their master to try to help him.
Gaston was far too experienced in battle and war tactics to think for a moment that the rest of the servants would not go to fetch help for their Prince, and perhaps a ranger or scout had already been sent to send word to the King.
He tried to move as quickly as possible with Belle in tow. Gaston knew that with each moment lingered here, he was risking Belle's capture and imprisonment and death.
Gaston turned towards the prince, his glance flitting from Belle to his stallion, whose tail was flicking in agitation, letting out a frustrated, nervous whinny.
Wolves, Gaston thought wildly, biting the wall of his mouth, his unhinged eyes looking to the left and right. Wolves, we cannot linger any longer than we already have.
Gaston was desperate to get Belle away from Adam. He watched her carefully as he inched her closer towards his horse and the saddle, vigilant for any signs of her distress.
Her breaths came sharply to her in short, ragged gasps, and her condition, with the amount of blood pouring from the wound on her cheek, made it difficult for her to even stagger a few distances towards Gaston's large stallion.
Gaston knew that each step towards freedom, towards his horse, must have been agony for Belle as her consciousness ebbed and flows the more blood she lost.
Finally, they reached the great beast and he affectionately reached up to pat the horse's sturdy saddle, breathing a steady sigh of relief as they had made it.
He turned towards Agathe.
"You are certain, milady?" he questioned one more time, trying to entice her to come.
She nodded. "Go. I will be quite fine," she reassured him.
Gaston returned the gesture with a nod of his own. He let go of his grip on Adam, though not before pulling the prince around to face him and where Belle was standing.
His dark eyes were seething with a rage that neither the prince, Agathe, nor Belle had ever seen in the man before.
"This entire time, you've been spying on my family's village." Gaston shook with venom as he addressed his old friend. "Don't think I haven't forgotten what this is about, old friend," he growled, the edges of his lips curling upward in a twisted sneer as he stalked his way forward. "You had your precious little spies spy on Belle. You looked me in the eye the last time I visited, and you lied to me." Gaston was positively shaking with hatred at this point, his fist clenching and unclenching as he fought against the urge to backhand his friend across the cheek. "You were always going to take her because of her beauty, weren't you, Adam, don't bother trying to deny it, Prince," he rasped, his dark eyes going wide, brimming with unshed moisture as his angry gaze became unhinged.
Adam Barreau was no longer his friend. Not after this, as his mind was reeling with a dozen and one burning queries.
He was not his best friend, not his brother in arms, not his half-brother, a bastard though Gaston was, his mother fallen from grace once the truth came to light about his parentage, their wealth stripped from them.
It had left him with no choice but to enter into the French military when he came of age enough to hold a gun and hold a sword the proper way, and he had excelled in the work and risen to the ranks in almost no time at all.
Adam was now nothing but a beast, a monster who had attempted to steal away his belle, his future bride because the prince wanted the best of everything, thinking he deserved the best that the county of France could offer up.
Gaston could no longer contain his wrath, as suddenly, he bounded forward on the heels of his leather boots and grabbed Prince Adam by the face, his fingers digging into the prince's skin. He turned the man around to face Belle.
"Look at Belle, Adam, look at her," he demanded, a lowly growl rumbling in his chest, as Belle stood in silent fear beside them, clutching the saddle of Gaston's horse for support, lacking the strength to continue standing for much longer.
Gaston held Prince Adam's gaze to meet Belle's tear-filled and cracked, red-rimmed chocolate brown eyes.
"This is the woman that I love, old friend," he screamed. "And you would try to steal her away from me, Adam?!"
Gaston bristled through gritted teeth while he ranted.
"She is where my heart belongs." Gaston brought his gaze tenderly towards Belle, who flinched, though the intensity of his gaze burned a hole right through her, and she found herself unable to tear her gaze away from his.
His voice calmed to match Belle's effect on his frayed nerves and wildly racing heart in the confines of his chest.
"It has always been hers, Adam, and always will be. You cannot have the lady, Belle is mine," he vowed passionately.
Somehow, someday, he would make Prince Adam pay for marring Belle's perfect visage and utterly humiliating his bride.
But not tonight. Tonight, he had to see to Belle's safety.
"Gaston, you're making a mistake—" Adam started to say, though Gaston angrily cut his former friend off then.
"SHUT UP!" he roared, a vein in his neck throbbing as he glowered at the prince in front of him. "Shut your mouth, you miserable bastard!" he bellowed.
Gaston's voice was a stream of pure hatred as he brought up his curled hand and loosened it across the prince's face, catching the man off guard and knocking the nobleman completely to the ground.
Belle gasped and reeled backward, accidentally colliding into the horse's saddle and startling the beast.
A startled cry of both pain at her cheek and shock escaped her cracked and wind burnt lips as the prince crumpled to the ground, seemingly unconscious for the second, though Agathe stood confidently in front of him.
"You will be well here alone? Are you sure that you will not come, Agathe?" Gaston implored, almost pleadingly, speaking directly to Agathe as he inched his way to Belle.
Agathe inclined her head. Belle blinked, sure this was a product of her mind trying to send her insane, a phantasm, as the edges of her lips curled up in a soft smile.
"Quite," she promised the pair of them. "Now go. Please don't make me say it to you a second time, Monsieur Dupont. I really hate saying things a second time, sir."
There was a hint of finality in her tone that suggested to Gaston it would be unwise to argue with the widow.
"Come on," Gaston pleaded as he took Belle's hand and steadied her next to him as he checked his horse's saddle.
He did not want a loose buckle to cause her to fall and possibly hit her face and risk re-injuring her already wounded cheek even more and making it worse for her.
Belle numbly stood beside Gaston as he checked his supplies that were tied to the stallion's saddle, finally able to take in her surroundings, though it was admittedly much more difficult as black spots crept to her vision.
Her mind felt like it was utterly reeling from not only coming so close to death, to say nothing of her bleeding cheek that stung and sent a tingling warmth all throughout her body, but also what she had just witnessed between Gaston and the Prince.
She'd spent so long being wary and cautious of the war captain, that she wasn't quite sure how to feel, especially about Gaston.
All she knew that Gaston was offering her a way back home, to Papa. And she would do anything to ensure she could see her father again, even if it were only for a couple of hours until the prince's men surely would come for her again, this time, to ensure she stayed away from home permanently.
For a moment, Belle allowed herself to imagine that maybe the things she had made assumptions of on Gaston Dupont's character had been lies.
Maybe he did love her. He seemed to care, judging what he had done for her to ensure her safety, dispatching the guards, even if it had been by violent and bloodied means.
She wished she could be sure.
Finally, Gaston was finished securing the horse's tack. He silently held out his hand for Belle to take of her own volition.
She began to cautiously accept his invite, however, as Belle took a timid half-step in his direction, a sharp shooting pain cascaded through her injured cheek.
Wincing at the intensity of the pain that now shot down her cheek and spiraled all throughout her body, she clutched and grasped at her cheek while trying not to touch it, not caring that her fingers were blood slimed.
Belle tried to catch her breath but couldn't manage it through the throes of her own pain and damn the man to the hells below who had done this to her poor face.
She wanted to scream and wail against the betrayal and torment of her own body but could only let out an abrupt high-pitched cry escape her throat.
Gaston was at her side in an instant, bracing her against the pain in her cheek.
Feeling more helpless than he'd ever felt in his life, all Gaston could do for her was offer Belle his hand, to which he was surprised and grateful that she took and try to hold her until whatever was happening was subsided.
After a few minutes, her muscles relaxed, and she was able to stand upright again. Belle and Gaston looked at one another, worried, fearful they knew what it meant.
It was now more urgent than ever that he gets her someplace safe, and her cheek needed tending to immediately before any kind of infection like gangrene could set in.
And he knew it was only a matter of time before the prince sent out a scouting party for the two of them, if one of the servants hadn't done so already, Gaston realized.
Carefully, Gaston gathered Belle in his arms and lifted her, almost effortlessly as he set her lightly on top of the horse's saddle, her legs hanging off the horse's side.
Gaston knew she was in no shape to handle a stallion of her own. The military captain hoisted himself onto the saddle as delicately as he could behind Belle, not wanting to jostle her and risk reinjuring her any further.
Gaston was already aware that the ride was going to be difficult enough for her to handle. Gaston took a moment to make sure that Belle was ready, seeing that her nervousness was already consuming her as she raised a violently shaking and paling hand to her bleeding cheek, fear plastered across her face.
She was looking entirely too pale for Gaston's liking and comfort. He scooped up the reigns of his horse, glad that his arms on either side of him would provide Belle ample support and spurred the mount along the road that would lead them to safety, though it would take them through the Wolves' Woods.
Gaston clicked his tongue and dug his spurs into the animal's side and propelled the beast forward, though not before shooting Agathe a look.
"Stay safe, Agathe. I'll send someone for you," he promised, though he did not let himself look back to see Agathe's reaction, as the horse started to break into a light gallop.
Back to Villeneuve and to get there, they had to venture straight into the Wolves' Woods...