Thank you all for your continuous support. Welcome to a new part that delves into Gaston's departure to rid the land of France of Monsieur D'Arque, and Belle and Adam's relationship continues to adjust to life-altering changes.

I would say from my outline as I re-tweaked it a bit to break it up so my chapters aren't quite so long, it's around 46-ish chapters? We'll see, but if you would choose not to stick around if you don't like long fics, I would understand!

Part II

CHAPTER 37

HOURS had passed since their encounter in the library since Gaston had born witness to Claire's heartbreaks as she had confided in him and confessed her worst fears, that he would not return. She had disappeared into what was intended to have been their chambers that the Prince was putting her and Gaston up in for the night and slammed the door behind her, dissolving into tears.

The sun went down, the dinner hour came and passed them by, and still, there was no sign that she would emerge from her private anguish anytime soon.

Nor was Claire hungry. She had eaten a small something earlier at Monsieur Cogsworth's insistence, having one of the kitchen wenches deliver a tray to her room, only altogether to gag it out at an indefinite time of the day. Not that the rest of the castle was concerned at all.

Only Gaston would care to pull her from her room if need be, but she was still seething with him and did not so much as want to give him the time of day in her anger.

As she sat by the hearth and contemplating the misery of the days ahead that were sure to come when she would have to reveal the truth to Aiken and Mary, LeFou's parents, there came a firm rapping at the door, and with it a man's voice. It was the bloke from earlier.

Lumiere.

"My lady," came his quiet tenor tone. At this, her heart pounded.

Could Gaston have put the man up to come to try to speak to her?

Surely, the captain could understand her need for solitude and peace.

She could only hope that was not the case here, not now. At a minimum, she suspected Lumiere had come to call upon her about the ruckus she had heard the servants had found in the library, finding one of the Prince's bookshelves and its contents toppled over, the shelf itself destroyed, looking as though it had been hacked or smashed to pieces.

Claire knew without a shadow of a doubt that Gaston was responsible for the damage. Him and his temper... Claire, frustrated, strode towards the door and tried to ignore the swooping sensation in her stomach, not sure how on earth they would pay for Gaston's mistake.

She opened the door enough so that just half of her face could be seen.

One of the Prince's soldiers stood alongside Monsieur Lumiere and without any further curtsy nor introductions of the sort, he delivered a most strange message that at first, she thought was intended for the lady Belle, but one look at Lumiere told her otherwise.

"The Prince asks you to dine with him tonight."

SHIVERING, Claire gritted her teeth as Monsieur Cogsworth and Lumiere led the way towards the Prince's private solar, a small room which was rather dimly lit up.

She was escorted inside after Mrs. Potts had run a brush through her loose dark hair, deeming her hair a lost cause and not wanting the Prince to be kept waiting opted to leave it loose and flowing instead and dressed her in a rich crimson velvet gown with a gold embroidered dragon on the bodice after she'd had a bath. The hem of her dress was so long that she had to pick up fistfuls of her skirts in her hands to avoid tripping as she reluctantly let herself be escorted out of the relative warmth and comfort of her room and towards the dreariness of the West Wing.

The baker's daughter now feeling more like a princess and severely out of place in such a garment as this was escorted inside and came in to find herself alone.

No Prince Adam was within to greet her, and as her escorts left, Mrs. Potts left strict instructions to wait for the Prince. Two meals in their proper place settings had been set upon the table, though it did not arouse her appetite in the slightest.

If anything, it made her feel sick.

No sooner had Claire's fingertips touched the edges of the dingy-looking furniture than did the Prince himself appear in the doorway, wiping his hands, his expression almost virtuous as he stood before the object of Gaston's affections with a rather odd look on his face.

Claire awkwardly cleared her throat and straightened her gait, remembering even feigned courtesies as she sank into a brief curtsy and nodded to him.

"Your Highness," she murmured, not fully able to veil her contempt for the Prince of these lands, disagreeing with how he was taxing the village to the brink, and for his treatment of Belle, perhaps the only woman in Villeneuve who was worth Claire's attention.

She could not help but wonder as the reason as to her summons. The Prince nodded in recognition and strode past where Claire stood behind the chair to sit down, but only after serving himself a flagon of chilled wine from a tin decanter that rested in front of their plates.

"Won't you sit?" he asked in his deep husky voice that sent a shiver down her spine as he motioned for Claire to occupy the chair across him and in between their respective meals. Claire did not want to sit, but as he was the Prince, and she, his subject, Claire could only comply.

She glanced down at her plate, buttered venison, raisin pastry and fruit, a slice of grain cake as dessert. Claire shuddered and resisted the urge to pinch her nose shut at the truly disgusting smell of the venison, already feeling bile rise in the back of her throat and could only pick at her food, nibbling on bits of the raisin pastry.

"How fares the future wife of Gaston Dupont?" Prince Adam du Barreau asked of Claire, interestedly.

Claire frowned. It only then occurred to her that she was not in place for company tonight, particularly not with the Prince. She thought she didn't give a damn what Belle said of this man and how 'much-changed,' he was.

"I'm alright, Your Highness. You're sweet to worry," she stated, well aware she was lying through her teeth as she spat the words, reaching for her cup to take a sip of the spiced wine, finding that the alcohol calmed her nerves as the burning liquid sloshed down past her throat.

The Prince grunted and studied the young woman over the rim of his own goblet, eyeing her features curiously. It was another moment before he spoke, taking his time chewing his bite of venison and swallowing it.

"I understand that the situation between you and Gaston has…tensed a bit. You can imagine my surprise when Lumiere ventured into the library to find one of my shelves destroyed beyond repair," Prince Adam remarked in what he hoped was a casual enough tone devoid of blame as he leaned forward in his chair.

Oh, the Prince knew he was overstepping his boundaries here, but he was eager to be his friend's champion in the matter after spotting his dear friend ranting and raving down the hall, not even stopping to talk to him before murmuring something about needing much-needed air.

Claire sighed, her cheeks flushing as she reddened in growing anger and embarrassment.

"He told you?" she asked, shocked and feeling more than a little bit hurt.

Apparently, the kiss she and Gaston had shared had become a topic of conversation and she had been right to suspect that no place in the Prince's castle was private.

The Prince flinched, able to tell his comment had struck a nerve with Belle's friend.

It was only at Belle's bequest that he was even here suffering through this meeting and his deep-rooted wish for Gaston's happiness. Sensing Claire's reluctance to open up and her hesitation, he held up a hand to prevent her from speaking.

"My dear mademoiselle, I fear half the castle staff heard your…disagreement." The Prince chuckled. "Gaston has always had a commanding presence, milady. He's extremely loud," he joked. "His voice carries when he so wishes it. Fear not, milady. You need not fret over the bookcase. It was old, but not irreplaceable. I cannot fault Gaston, man has always harbored something of a temper, and I don't see that changing anytime for him soon. Not even with you. I understand that your…relationship, mademoiselle, is absolutely none of my business."

Adam had not intended to upset the young woman whom Belle was so fond of and eagerly wanted to amend his mistake.

"Truly. Normally, I would not dream of commenting on your personal affairs nor Gaston's, however, I thought that it was good to see him smile again, and you can imagine my surprise when a maid came to me of a disturbance of the peace within my own library's walls. Is everything alright, milady, between you and Gaston?" Prince Adam remarked, remembering seeing the hope that had sparked in his old friend's dark eyes for a life centering around her.

Claire slowly found her dismay easing a little bit as she started to realize that perhaps the Prince's intentions towards her summons tonight were not to pry.

She imagined that was the way of things between friends, brothers, perhaps, though they were not related by blood, they were as good as well have might be.

She was grateful she felt a similar sort of kinship with Belle, a kinship, a sisterhood of sorts that was only tested when Gaston had begun to harbor an interest in her, and Claire had rooted her frustrations of Gaston's then-lack-of-interest by pursuing the one man who was closest to him.

LeFou.

A shiver went down her spine as she tried to shove thoughts of the bumbling idiot out of her mind. She was grateful that Gaston held such a deeply-rooted friendship with the Prince, though she herself had never taken a liking to this land's monarch, that did not mean she would wish ill on Gaston, even in her anger towards him, her angry seething still not yet subsided.

Just the mention of the Prince saying Gaston's name brought to her mind the too-recent and the fresh memory of their passionate kiss and then the argument in the library, leaving it closer to the surface of her mind than it had been since she had fled the library in an agitated huff.

The Prince blanched, able to pick up on her pensive expression immediately, and tried to elaborate.

He leaned forward, his fingers curling over the tines of his fork.

"Surely, you are aware why he has to go?" he stammered, pushing his luck with Claire even further.

Claire did not take any insult to the man's question. Claire was visibly startled as she realized she thought it was strangely comforting to talk to someone else about the events that had transpired, even if said someone was someone who she held in less than high regard.

But, she theorized, if Gaston was to ever be a part of her life, and Belle would continue to be a part of hers, she supposed she owed it to the Prince to at least attempt to be civil.

"Gaston has given me his reasons," she replied bashfully, cutting off a bite of her grain cake with her fork. "And…I believe him," Claire quietly assured the Prince.

Adam nodded and he mulled over Claire's acceptance of Gaston's heartfelt confession, but it did not change the hurt that was wallowing within the girl's eyes.

"That is a good thing, milady," he acknowledged. "I don't think I have ever seen my old friend so content and fulfilled as he is when he is around you. Gaston is not a man who is comfortable expressing his emotions, and perhaps he might not be able to tell you, he is a man of his actions. His love and affirmations are in what he does, not necessarily what he says," the Prince tried to explain, his expression kind and concerned, hoping to make her see it. "I know that if he would, he has every intention of staying here with you," the Prince asserted, the wine was making him bolder as he took a hearty swig and refilled his goblet.

Claire's gaze dropped to the table.

"He has said as much," she murmured calmly, though the shift in the brunette's demeanor was not conveying the hope that she found in the truth.

She let out a sigh and toyed with a lock of her hair, setting her fork down and shoving her plate aside, unable to look at the food anymore or eat another bite, sure if she took one, she would just get sick again.

"Gaston loves you, Claire," Adam stated plainly and boldly, honestly, thinking that in this scenario, it was best for him to just throw all caution to the wind and be blunt with the young woman from Belle's simple village.

Claire slowly lifted her chin and gaze to regard the Prince seated across the table from her, the pain and anger returning to her hazel eyes as they flashed indignantly.

"Then he should stay," she answered stiffly.

"I fear that you are right in that regard," the Prince lamented as he concurred with Claire Renaud's words. "He would if he could have, but Gold gives him no choice. Per his words, it has to be him. I do not pretend to make heads or tails of that sorcerer's words, but I will trust him. For now. He did manage to bring Gaston back to us, Claire. That alone should count for some credibility, yes?"

His tone held a resentful judgment towards Gaston for the man's stubbornness and Monsieur Gold for the warlock's insistence that he could accept no one else.

It was not lost on Claire as she gaped at Adam.

"His only justification for agreeing to do this for us is to ensure our safety. Believe me, if I could, it would be me going in his place, and Gaston would remain here and watch over things in my absence, but I cannot."

Claire nodded softly. "He said that as much too when we…spoke," she replied, flinching as she recollected the way Gaston's voice had risen an octave.

Claire was not sure what to say to that, only able to watch as the Prince lowered his chin in a reverent way.

"I speak the truth, milady. Gaston is determined and hellbent to build a future with you. This is one of the only ways that he knows how," he swore. "None of us are safe while D'Arque remains holed up in his fortress, the witless worm that he is," the Prince spat angrily with no small measure of contempt in his tone for the owner of the insane asylum. "That is why Gaston has to leave on the morrow," he said, his expression growing crestfallen, sad.

Claire angrily looked away and exhaled a shaking breath.

Her tone was frosty as she spoke. "I have already heard all of the details from him."

She was growing impatient and more than a little eager to be gone from the Prince's solar and away from this plate of food whose scent was only making her sicker.

She saw no need to hear Gaston's words repeated from his best friend. Unfortunately, the Prince did not seem too eager in dismissing her company quite just yet.

"I have been hearing lately of your seclusion," the Prince continued speaking in his usual casual voice. "Belle came to me earlier and was expressing concerns for you, that you paid a visit to my physician earlier, is that true?"

Claire's face drained of color at the realization that the castle's physician had confided in both Belle and the Prince what she had hoped would have been a discreet matter. She swallowed down hard, realizing that especially here within this castle, she could trust no one.

Claire could not quite put her finger on how such a simple manner of speaking could make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end. Gaston sometimes made her cringe with his bluntness, yes, that was true, but the Prince… the Prince of these lands was rather different.

He had an air of mystery about him that was very carefully hidden, and perhaps even still a deep-rooted monstrosity, his strange ability to unearth one's deepest, darkest secret within just only a second of a conversation.

Claire looked away and towards the door, wishing that she could flee, but then remembered she owed the Prince an answer. She swallowed and turned to look at him.

"I was not feeling well, Your Highness," Claire managed, and it did not seem to bother Adam one iota.

In fact, the Prince was almost looking at her like she was such a disappointment.

Like the Prince had discovered and known something of herself that she could not discover, and she did not know what to do about it.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, lowering her lashes. "I know that I should have acted more properly. It shan't happen again, milord, I—I give you my word,' she said.

"I would request that you still see my physician at your earliest convenience, milady, that we might solve whatever is plaguing you," the Prince conjectured, almost sounding angry with Claire for reasons she did not understand. Was he angry she hadn't come to him, first?

The Prince's words seared Claire's chest, feeling as though she had been hit by a flaming arrow, making her mouth go dry and her tongue rendered thick and useless in her mouth.

The air around Claire began to grow dense, and she forced herself to stand, making her chair scrape loudly against the cobblestone in a way that made her flinch.

"Excuse me, Your Highness," she mumbled softly.

Claire fled the room in such haste, shrouded in cold fear at the way that the Prince's icy-blue eyes followed her to the exit, and she completely missed Gaston eyeing her curiously in the hallway from behind a stone pillar.

Claire did not so much as even look at him as she fled back to her room, not to emerge for the rest of the night.

GASTON'S torment threatened to eat him alive from the inside out, gnawing at him like a starving rat devouring scrap, his mind flooded with the image of watching Claire flee. He did not think he could endure being separated from her the night before he was to leave, not knowing if this mission of Gold's was a suicide run or not.

He stalked after Claire and rushed to her door, only to find it locked and unmoving. Claire was purposefully shutting him out and away from her.

Gaston raised his knuckles and knocked softly. He knew that Claire could hear her against the wooden panel of the door. He anxiously waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the next, hoping to see her loving face when she wrenched open the door. He did not know how long he stood in the dimly lit and wide hallway, hoping that she would come to her senses.

There was no answer. Again, frustrated, he rapped on the door, ensuring that he was louder this time. Still, Claire did not come to see who was standing on the other side of the door to her chambers, and it chafed him. Gaston rested his forehead against the doorframe and let out a haggard, sorrowful sigh of frustration and anger.

"Claire," he called, trying his best not to sound annoyed, considering it was he who had caused this chasm, this rift that now existed between them in the first place. "Please speak to me," he begged.

Let me in. Let me in, let me in, let me in…Just this once...

He repeated the words over and over like a whispered prayer, one that Claire did not answer.

He did not see Claire leaning against the other side of the door, slick tears streaming down her face, the sound of her quiet crying muffled by the hand she clamped over her mouth to prevent him from hearing.

Gaston spent the entire duration of the night on the cold, stone floor huddled against the door of Claire's chambers in the West Wing, aching to hold her, to kiss her, and praying that she would talk to him on the morrow when dawn came before he would leave.

AT dawn the following morning, as the cold winter sun's first rays shone down upon the horizon, Gaston stood in the courtyard of the Prince's estate alongside Gold, preparing for their fated journey he was not sure if he would survive. As he buckled the straps of the horse's pack and saddle more securely, Gaston's mood was sour.

He had not seen or spoken to Claire before he was set to depart the castle like he had originally hoped for.

Again, Claire refused to open the door to him this morning, even upon learning he had spent the entire night in a sleepless daze on the cold stone cobblestoned floor.

But what the military captain did not know was that Claire had heard every soft murmured word of the soldier's farewell as he'd spoken through her door at dawn.

He was unaware that even now, Claire stood in the Prince's private solar of the West Wing where they had dined, watching him alongside Gold prepare their horses in the courtyard, every movement he made was deliberate.

She knew full well that Gaston would leave, that nothing she could possibly say would change his mind. She realized, deep down, that he and Gold were right. That there was no other way. D'Arque had to be killed, and he deserved a painful death for what he'd done.

She knew Gaston would be able to give him that. She and Gaston and the Prince and Belle, all of them needed to have even the thought of the wicked owner of the insane asylum removed from their lives if they were to be ever truly safe and happy with each other.

Claire worried that she had been too hard on Gaston for the choice that really was not much of a choice at all.

Claire fought with herself not to run to Gaston. She wanted nothing more than to bid her soldier a proper farewell that a handsome hero like him deserved from his lady love.

She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and feel herself feeling safe in the man's embrace, perhaps for the last time, to feel his lips move in a kiss.

But it was her stubborn and arrogant pride that kept Claire from allowing herself to fully give in to the loving concern that she felt for Gaston.

She wondered if Gaston had given any thought or heed whatsoever to how difficult it might actually be for him to kill D'Arque, especially given their past history as acquaintances.

Claire knew all too well that Gaston assumed he would feel nothing but relief at taking D'Arque's life. She knew what kind of men both of them were, but she herself was not quite so sure.

Claire genuinely feared that the influence and power the witless snake held would not only render the soldier not able to kill him quite as Gaston thought, but unable to tear himself away from him, too.

Her dread that Gaston would fall prey once more to those whispered words of influence and the forked tongue between the man's teeth and break her heart by staying by D'Arque's side and conceding to his demands was very nearly paralyzing. It was what kept Claire from being able to speak to him since he'd revealed his intents.

Claire had a feeling that Gaston genuinely loved her and recollected the Prince's words to her from last night when it was just the two of them in the man's solar.

How Gaston was a man of action, not of words. If this was to be the last time that she would see him, well, she supposed she could make it count. She knew she had no right to deprive Gaston Dupont of the one shred of happiness that she herself could provide, even if it was but for him to look upon her face once more before marching to his death.

Claire was still more than a little hurt and angry with the soldier, but if this was to be the last moment that they would see each other, what right had she to deny him?

She forced herself to breathe deeply, swallowing her tears as she slipped into her boots and headed down the hallway and towards the stone stairs.

GASTON'S brows furrowed into a frown as he kept his arms folded across his chest, well aware that he was sulking and he was more than likely looking a fool in front of the Prince and of Belle, who was standing next to him bidding his wishes for a safe, quick journey.

"She will not speak to me," he lamented in a gruff voice, for once in the first time in his life looking towards Belle for aid and ignoring the Prince and Gold.

Belle knew the way a woman's mind worked and could perhaps enlighten him on how to resolve this issue with Claire and make the baker's daughter understand.

Belle smiled sadly and shot the military captain a somewhat sympathetic look, though her smile was strained, the skin underneath her eyelids crinkled.

"I cannot exactly say that I blame her for that, Gaston," Belle murmured in a compassionate tone, her smile fading as she thought how Claire had angrily reacted to Gaston's plan.

She would have reacted in a similar manner if the Prince came to her with the same intentions.

"She is remembering what happened the last time you left, and she found you dead out here by the gate," Belle blurted out.

Belle's words were clumsy and blunt.

"That was different, Belle!" Gaston angrily corrected as he narrowed his gaze and eyed Belle vehemently. He knew that he was sure to forever torment himself on this particular subject.

It was why he was leaving in the first place, and he did not need Belle or Adam for that matter bringing it up yet a second time.

"Not in Claire's mind, it isn't," Belle retorted thoughtfully, a strangely placid expression on her face. "Can you imagine how hard it was for her—for us—" she dropped her voice an octave as her expression grew crestfallen— "to watch D'Arque control those wolves and order them to rip your throat out?" she squeaked.

Gaston froze, but Belle remained oblivious as she continued.

"Anyone would be left skittish after an event like that," Belle patiently reminded the military captain and tavern owner. "There is still much that she has to come to terms with. I imagine she would question much and perhaps not feel completely healed for years. I don't think that I will, for my part, for what it's worth," she whispered, curling her hand around Adam's bicep as she softly shook her head, wishing that she could help both Gaston and Claire now, somehow.

"But I've promised her I will come back. I swore it," Gaston fretted, a worried expression overtaking his features. "She surely knows that I love her and that I care for her," he growled in an assertive voice as he flitted his gaze between the Prince and his soon-to-be-wife, pleading silently for aid.

"Yes, she does," the Prince chimed in. "But I don't think that's what's troubling your lady love. She is more hurt with you than anger if I were a betting man," he told his best friend, understandingly. "The pain of finding your dead body in the snow and all that came after that, helping Gold helping you to heal, is still too raw. I don't blame her for being angry," Adam murmured in a thoughtful tone, his blue eyes dark and serious.

He did not think that he would lose any sleep whatsoever over the death of old D'Arque.

The man had long since earned this sort of fate that was waiting for him at the tip of Gaston's sword. There was even a part of the Prince, darkness lingering within, that wished he were the one to do it. However, as soon as the thought formed in his mind, he shook his head to clear it. That part of his life was over and done now.

However, he hoped that his friend would find it as easy as he thought it would be to take the man's life, considering their history. The Prince swallowed down hard and spoke.

"You're going to have to prove to Claire, with your actions," he emphasized, desirous to make Gaston understand, "that your commitment to her is unswerving and unyielding, that you really love her."

Gaston fell silent as he regarded the Prince, his expression as grim as a grave and his eyes deadly serious. He nodded.

"I swear that I will, Highness," he grunted, though he turned his head away sharply as he moved to stand alongside Gold's horse to check it. "And when I come back, I won't leave her side again."

Their serious conversation was interrupted by Lumiere who darted up to them, his lined face a study in solemn eagerness, eager to see an end to D'Arque's cruelty.

"Young master Dupont," he addressed his master's colleague and friend with an awkward little bow. "I wish that you would reconsider, monsieur, and let me come with you."

Lumiere stepped back and offered the soldier and the warlock a somewhat hopeful expression. Lumiere had already found himself disappointed once when Gaston denied his request, and it would seem he was to be disappointed again.

Gaston regarded the Prince's youngest Head of Household almost proudly, but he shook his head as he strode forward and clamped the slightly older man on the shoulder.

"No, monsieur Lumiere, I cannot let you be a part of what I must do," Gaston replied, trying to sound grateful. "I need to do this alone." He could not let Lumiere be associated with his treason if the man were caught and if the king were alerted that the death of D'Arque was anything but natural.

He stiffened at the thought of thinking that D'Arque was on relatively friendly terms with the king and what it would mean for him if he or Gold were to let themselves get captured. If they were, and Lumiere had accompanied them, he too would most certainly be executed.

He could not allow it.

"I need you here alongside the Prince and old Cogsworth to help watch over Claire and the lady Belle for me, Lumiere."

He smiled, knowing he was placing the girls' safety into the right hands.

Lumiere's shoulders slumped in defeat.

Nevertheless, the young Head of Household conceded and nodded.

"Then a safe journey, then, Monsieur," Lumiere cordially wished and clasped his hands together.

Gaston lowered his chin reverently as Lumiere moved away to allow the Prince and Gaston to have a moment to say their goodbyes.

Gaston opened his mouth to speak, but it was at that moment that he saw Claire emerging from the tall thick double oak doors that led into the castle's Great Hall.

She was a vision of loveliness in a black dress and red vest—his family's crest colors.

His heartstrings tugged. As she strode towards them, the wind whipping her dark tresses off her shoulders, Gaston could only stare at her.

She was truly sexy, but shy, but unknowing how it ravaged him.

He found himself hoping that Claire would at least allow him a kiss. But Claire's expression as she approached him, told Gaston perhaps that was too much to ask and hope for.

Claire glowered at him as the Prince backed away alongside Belle to join Lumiere. Gaston stood hopeful by his horse, hopeful, and both terrified as she stalked her way to him and stopped, inches from him, finally lowering the skirts of her dress and hiding the soles of her muddied brown boots.

"I came to wish you well," Claire remarked coldly, barely able to look Gaston in his eyes.

The finality in her tone in which she spoke was positively bone-chilling and colder than the temperatures as she kept her arms across her chest.

Gaston smiled nervously at her, but she did not return it. Gaston could see as plain as day the fear and hurt that was tormenting her mind. It shattered his heart into a thousand fragments.

He wanted Claire to be confident that his absence from her was not going to end the same as it had before, with his body ravaged by wolves, but he did not know how to.

Instead, he did the only thing he could and leant forward towards the angle of her sharp jaw, just below her right ear. Gaston did not realize it until now, but it had quickly become one of his favorite places to kiss her. His lips tingled and burned as he itched to press his lips against her creamy soft skin, to make their last kiss count.

But Claire could hardly look Gaston in the eye. As the man moved in to kiss her, that all-too-familiar hot fire seed of anger began to take root in the pit of her stomach once more.

Perhaps it was because she thought surely there was another way for Gold to get back what D'Arque stole, and as a consequence for Gaston to go along with it, she did not want to gift him any sort of affection when he was willingly leaving.

Perhaps it could have been that she didn't think that she could not bear to think it would be the last time she would feel his lips move with hers in a kiss.

Whatever the reason, Claire stepped back angrily and sharply turned away from him, not allowing Gaston to touch her at all.

She straightened her gait and standing as tall and as proud as the young woman could possibly muster up, even in her quiet humiliation and embarrassment.

Claire turned on the heels of her boots, having to lift the hem of the skirt of her dress to avoid it getting muddied and ruined, and walked with purpose back towards the Prince's castle, with Belle worriedly trailing behind at Adam's insistence.

Claire knew she would be damned if she would stand out here in the chill and beg the soldier not to go. His duty came first, not her.

Gaston's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach as Claire had flat-out refused his kiss.

He stood rooted to the ground, wishing the ground beneath his boots would open up and swallow him whole as he watched the woman that he loved to turn her back on him and walk away, taking his love and his heart with her in the process, and Claire did not even realize it of her.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut with regret as he realized surely this must have been how the baker's daughter felt when he had ventured into the Wolves' Woods after D'Arque the first time. Shamefaced, Gaston opened his eyes. He thought that he deserved every ounce of Claire's mistrust and her anger directed at him. He knew that.

Gaston swore to himself and silently promised that he was going to stop at nothing to restore Claire's faith and certainty in him and of the lives they'd build together.

A muscle in Gaston's jaw twitched. He heaved a tired sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

"Take care of the women, Your Highness," Gaston beseeched the Prince, who had returned to his best friend's side, eager to support the man during his hour of need as they stood alongside Gold and watched Claire and Belle disappear into the castle. "Protect them both," Gaston implored.

The Prince looked up at Gaston in alarm, a seriously worried frown plastered on his wind burnt face. It was perhaps the first time he had heard his comrade allude to any spoken fear that he might not survive his and Gold's journey to the man's fortress.

Adam understood that would surely mean death for Gaston, for that was the only thing standing in the way that would keep him from coming home to Claire.

"I will, I swear it, my friend. On my own life," the Prince passionately promised, as Gaston climbed into the saddle of his horse, Gold following suit with his. Gaston started to dig the spurs into the horse's side to propel the animal forward, though he paused.

He looked down to where the Prince was standing with a scowl forming heavily on his face.

"Take care of them," he repeated, not bothering to quell the note of desperation in his voice.

The Prince was at a loss for words and could only nod his understanding, signaling to Gaston without saying anything that he would do his part.

Gaston returned the nod with one of his own and turned, fixing his eyes on the woodland path of the Wolves' Wood ahead, and this time, he did dig his spurs into the horse's side to set the beast in motion. Gaston angrily clenched his jaw and fought down against the lump in his throat as it hollowed.

The memory of the kiss that Claire did not give him out of her anger towards him haunted his mind, and likely would for the duration of the trip.

He prayed a silent vow to God if He listened to a bastard and a wretch like him that within a few days at the most, he would be standing affront these very gates with D'Arque's head in a gunny sack, awaiting entrance into the Prince's castle, returning home to his friends.

To his family that he would build with Claire.

Then he would collect that kiss, and possibly her hand in marriage. if she still wasn't angry with him.

As Gaston led the way through the woods, it began to rain.