Hi all and welcome back. It has taken me a few days and upwards of a week of condensing the remaining chapters of which there were originally six into just two more chapters. I thought much of the previous chapters I had planned weren't really necessary to the plot and just served as filler so I scrapped them.
How can ending a fic be so difficult lol?
I hope that you have enjoyed it thus far, and there will be one more chapter after this one, and I am in midst of penning a sort-of-sequel to this story, in hopes of being able to write a Gaston/Claire story after I finish up this one, but I promised myself I would finish this first before diving headlong into a new fic. I don't like having a whole bunch of projects on my plate all at once and work best with only maybe 2, no more than 3 WIPs at a time.
Anyway, on with the show and I hope that you enjoy this chapter, as finally, our characters can get some rest.
CHAPTER 41
BELLE stared numbly at the closed oak door of the Prince's solar, to which two individuals had retreated behind for a 'private' word though it wasn't quite so private anymore. She flinched as the noise grew louder.
From behind the oak panel came the sound of raised voices. She would have thought the two persons who were launching into such a heated argument might have preferred to venture outside and talk a walk along the castle grounds, though, for the life of her, she could not understand why they'd thought not to.
Their voices were extremely loud, and any chance the two had hoped of their conversation being private was now shattered. Belle had caught more than a few interested glances from the passing maids, whispering amongst themselves, and some of the kitchen wenches were looking incredulous.
She chanced a glance towards the older woman named Belle to see what the older woman thought about this little argument of theirs, who was in the middle of feeding her infant son, a delightful little boy named Gideon. The woman whom Gold had introduced as his wife, also sharing Belle's name, was a delight.
Quiet, mild-mannered, and attentive, bookish like she was, the two of them had hit it off. A part of Belle wished the older woman could stay, at least for the wedding, though when asked, she had gotten a wistful look in her eyes and apologized, that they had lingered too long and needed to be heading back.
The sheer volume and intensity of said voices behind the door were liable to cause the whole castle staff to come to a grinding halt.
"I should have been told, Gold!" Claire screamed. Her voice was hoarse and emotional.
Poor Claire had been yelling for hours and crying for days prior to the start of this argument following Gold escorting Gaston back to the castle.
Belle could not be sure exactly what any of the previous altercations between her friend and the Scotsman had consisted of, as she had made it an avid point to disappear into the sanctuary of the library for most of them, wanting to give them privacy.
Belle swallowed down hard as the baby in Gold's wife's arms began to fuss.
Shooting Belle an apologetic look and mumbling an apology that she could not stay under her breath, she rose from her chair and disappeared out of the mess hall and down the hallway, undoubtedly towards the West Wing, where she could soothe her babe in quiet, as little Gideon, sensing the screaming coming from the other side of the door, was starting to wail and fuss.
With Gold's wife now gone, that left her, and Gaston seated at the table in the Mess Hall, waiting for Claire and Gold to come out as Claire was undoubtedly giving the strange Scottish sorcerer a piece of her mind, and likely a well-deserved slap to the face. That last thought almost made her smile.
She looked across the table and into a familiar set of worried dark eyes that stared back at her from within the darkened room that seemed eternally dark no matter how many candelabras were lighted.
Gaston looked to have not slept well the last six nights that he was gone from the Prince's estate, but then again, none of them had. She hadn't, and Belle knew that Claire hadn't either, all things considered.
Constantly fretting and worrying over whether or not her dear friend and Claire's lover was going to come back and as such, their worry over the soldier's whereabouts and status of his life did not allow for proper midday kips; stress-induced insomnia had been detrimental to everyone's health, but especially Gaston's.
She could see it as was evidenced by the dark circles under the man's eyes.
Belle crinkled her nose, having been about to take a sip of ice water from her goblet while they waited for Claire and Gold to come out of the room the two were holed up in, but stopped as a truly rancid stench was wafting through the air and into her flaring nostrils.
It was almost enough to make her gag as she sharply turned her head away, pinching her nose closed with her thumb and forefinger to avoid smelling any of whatever it was that threatened to make her vomit. Belle breathed slowly through her mouth as she looked around the mess hall for the source of whatever the smell was.
It was then that her narrowed dark eyes fell upon the rotting gunny sack that rested at Gaston's feet as the soldier sat back leaned against the chair and one leg crossed over the other, looking a mixture of thoroughly crossed and nervous as to what his reception would be when Claire walked through that door.
He cared not what happened to Gold and hoped that she had slapped him a dozen times for what he had put her through by forcing him to leave, but he feared how he'd be received.
"Eugh, Gaston, I do hope that if you're planning on presenting D'Arque's head to my best friend as some sort of apology or atonement gift for your part, Gaston, that you intend to put it in something a little more fitting than that soiled pillowcase," she nodded with a jerk of her head toward the sack.
Gaston's eyes widened as he leaned forward in his chair a bit, shocked by the Prince's bride's intuition.
"How did you figure it out, Belle? Was it that obvious, my friend?" he asked in a guarded whisper, shooting her an apologetic look as he tried to apologize with his eyes for the smell, to which Belle chuckled warmly.
The young woman had the impudence to raise her thin eyebrows at Gaston and rolled her eyes.
"Please, Gaston. I would have thought it would be obvious. You show up here within days of D'Arque's death." She set down her goblet and shoved aside her plate of cold, untouched food, no longer able to eat as long as she was smelling the man's separated head in that stupid pillowcase.
She began to tick off her list of reasons on her fingers.
"You haven't let that thing out of your sight for a moment, and the case has conformed to the shape of whatever it holds within it, which is either a melon or a severed head, and since melons don't grow in France in the winter, my friend, it can only be one thing, soldier. Claire is fond of fruits from what she's told me, but I doubt she needs one carried all throughout the Wolves' Woods for her, Gaston," Belle weakly joked. "You were the one out of all of us who had the most reason to want D'Arque dead. And a part of me thinks that I should expect nothing less from you to ensure the safety of the woman whom you love," Belle shyly praised him.
Gaston's guarded expression turned even more cautious as a muscle in his jaw twitched. Would Belle find fault with his decision to kill D'Arque, or would she praise him that he had seen this through?
Though his fears were unwarranted, soon mitigated by Belle's somewhat approving soft smile.
"I think…." She paused hesitantly, biting down on her bottom lip as she took a moment to think over her words, lest she takes them in and regrets it.
In the end, she decided to throw caution to the wind. "I think that D'Arque got what he deserved," she said at last as she stared at the casing hatefully. "For what he did to you, and by extension, Claire," she affirmed, but then remembered that once upon a time, the two men had been colleagues, friends.
Her cheeks burned and flushed with color as the realization of what she just said crossed her.
"Oh, forgive me," Belle pleaded, her expression turning pained. "I realize the man was your friend once, Gaston. That alone couldn't have made this easy," she stammered, trying to correct her mistake.
Belle let Gaston have a moment to mourn the man, not realizing that it wasn't even necessary.
Gaston shook his head right as the Prince entered the room, looking regal in a crimson doublet and black leather breeches, golden hair hanging loose instead of pulled back in a ponytail.
His somber expression brightened considerably as he spotted Belle, crossing the stone floor of the mess hall in two quick strides and pulled up a chair.
Gaston offered a curt nod of recognition towards his monarch and old friend, though he heard Belle's gasp of surprise and knew immediately that something was wrong with the Prince.
The fact that the Prince did not divulge to Belle what has him so set off was a cause for alarm, in Belle's mind. She has not seen him all day, which was also unusual.
The court had usurped his attention and has kept him locked away from her for hours on end, and in addition to that, Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts all sought their master's approval for certain decisions that were to be made regarding their wedding when he and Belle would marry in a fortnight.
Servants had rushed by her all day, whispering amongst themselves in low voices, but none of them would tell their future Princess what it was that was happening to cause Adam to be riled.
"Some days I would give anything not to be a prince," Prince Adam groaned, fingers curling into fists as he rested them on his lap, looking at Belle.
His icy-blue eyes followed Belle, tracing the young woman's every movement with affection that once alarmed her when she was first made aware of the Prince's feelings, back when he was still changed.
As Belle cocked her head to the side, his gaze leaped to follow the curve of her throat, tracing the long lines of dark brown hair as it fell over her shoulder.
She shifted under the Prince's scrutiny and sighed, cross-legged.
Considering it was just her and Gaston present in the Mess Hall now, there was no need for her to behave in a courtly manner, as a future Princess was supposed to act, Belle thought.
"We heard tell of rumors that you flew into another rage today," Belle began conversationally, a twinkling sheen forming in her dark brown eyes.
"Oh?" the Prince murmured lowly, his voice a low, silken thrum that almost sent Belle swallowed, hard and she had to scramble to hide her elatedness behind the curtain of her hair. "Whatever would make you say such a thing, my love?" he asked.
Gaston rolled his eyes to himself, propping his elbow up on the table and resting his cheek in his fist, though secretly, was enjoying their banter.
"Oh, I'm sure I wouldn't know, Your Highness," Belle replied, her voice a near purr as she pursed her lips. "I don't think it could be the manner in which you stalked in here and eyed me like a panther eyeing its prey, nor, I wager, would it be the way that you've continued to glare at every inanimate object in this room as though it has personally offended you, myself and Monsieur Gaston included," Belle pointed out, her words blunt.
The Prince's lips turned up in a wry little smirk and Belle bit down on her lip to hide her own.
Over the last several months, she has come to know her future husband so well, too well, she guessed, that he will make some off-handed quip and reach out for her, and gentle until she succumbed and kissed him in the way that he liked. He breathed slowly, lifting his gaze to hers.
"It is not you who offends me," he said lovingly, reaching up a hand to tuck a stray lock of her hair back behind her ear to better see her eyes. "Everything else in this world offends me, Belle, they offend me by the way they stop in the hall and ask what my opinion is of our upcoming wedding feast, or what colors I want my doublet to be that day, but not you, never you, and speaking of offending things…what in the hells is that godawful stench?!" Adam demanded, his face draining off-color as he pulled a face of disgust.
Belle could not help but smile at the look of disgust on her lover's face. "Since you asked, Gaston and I were just discussing what to do with D'Arque's head at his feet," Belle grinned, letting a rather wolfish smile tug the edges of her lips up in a mischievous smirk that almost made Gaston startle the longer he stared.
The Prince was having an effect on Belle in more ways than just her happiness but in a good way. Before coming here, when she had lived with Maurice back in Villeneuve, Belle had rarely smiled.
Though after a moment, Belle's smile faltered as her gaze met Gaston's, and their eyes locked again.
"I know it couldn't have been easy," she repeated, her face turning crestfallen as she exchanged a worried look with the Prince, who quickly nodded.
Gaston shook his head. "On the contrary, Belle," he hissed through clenched teeth, ensuring Belle and the Prince there was no mourning in his heart. "It was perhaps the most freeing, vindictive thing I've done for myself in perhaps my entire life."
His tone showed only the military captain's relief.
"Made even more so, knowing that his death brought safety to the woman I love, and our friends," Gaston added, letting himself smile wistfully as he looked upon the young couple, wishing them only the best of a happy and long married life together, much like he hoped to share with Claire.
He returned the Prince's horrified stare with the same repulsed expression as his nose crinkled in disgust, much as Belle's had when she first caught a whiff of the unmistakable scent as Gaston had sauntered into the room clutching the bag in hand.
"The world is better off without a snake-like D'Arque. The snake is better off with its head caught off, and I know that Claire and I certainly are." He let out a relieved sigh and kicked the case.
Embarrassment clouded Gaston's pale face and his dark eyes for a moment as he shot Belle and the Prince an apologetic look. "I know that it is a strange ah, betrothal gift," Gaston admitted, his cheeks flushing bright with embarrassment at the delighted look that Belle shot her fiancé at the news that Gaston wished to marry the baker's daughter. "But I want for Claire to see D'Arque is dead, by my hand, and he will never hurt either one of us again," Gaston explained. "I want her to know it was me."
The Prince nodded, pleased that Gaston did not mourn the one whom he had once been well acquainted with and had brought so much suffering.
"Ah, well, then, Gaston." The Prince cleared his throat and seemed desirous to change the topic of conversation. "It's better than any gem or ring you could procure in the kingdom, but such a…momentous token can't be given to the woman you love in a rotted, blood-stained pillow casing."
The Prince grumbled something inaudibly for a moment under his breath as he fumbled in the pockets of his leather breeches for something. After a minute of digging, he held out a small package.
Whatever it was that the Prince held, it was small and held together in a simple drawstring pouch.
"My friend, perhaps this would make a more appropriate offering than a decapitated head?" Prince Adam suggested with a morose chuckle, silently passing the pouch towards Gaston.
Curious, Gaston pulled apart the leather cord that held the tiny drawstring pouch shut and peered inside. Jewels sparkled at the bottom of the pouch, glinting in the dim orange and yellow flickering light that cast odd dancing shadows about the room from what few candelabras were lit up in the Mess Hall.
Gaston smiled softly to himself as he realized the nature of the beautiful and precious stones that he would ask Claire to marry him.
They were rubies, one of the colors of his family's house crest.
Gaston grunted by way of response and looked towards the door that he knew Claire and Gold were behind, having heard the shouting from outside in the corridor earlier, recognizing the familiar lilt to her voice and having followed it. He rose as the door halfway opened and inhaled a nervous breath, as Belle and Prince Adam copied his movements.
The Prince glanced sideways out of the corner of his curious gaze, as did Belle. The couple could read the fear and hope and uncertainty on Gaston's expression as to how Claire would receive him. Both the Prince and Gaston wanted nothing more than to tear down the door and rush to Claire and send Gold on his way.
However, each understood the reasons of the other and wished only what would ease Claire's mind the most, once she had let her wild tempest run its course. It sounded like her voice was going hoarse, her throat raw and sore from all the yelling.
"Please, Adam, Belle," Gaston cordially offered. "She will likely have questions about your upcoming wedding," he conceded, swallowing down past a lump in his throat, thinking it was a rather poor excuse for him not wanting to go first.
The Prince smirked, seeming to catch on to his ruse. He shook his head and squeezed Belle's hand.
"Oh, no, my old friend," he regarded Gaston proudly and looked down at the rotted pillowcase in Gaston's hand, the drawstring pouch of rubies in the other. "She needs to see that and you first."
He understood, and judging by her look, so did Belle.
"Thank you," Gaston murmured, lowering his head, grateful for the Prince and Belle's kindness.
Belle smiled and tugged on the Prince's arm as the door opened a crack wider and Monsieur Gold, looking more than thoroughly vexed and agitated, was the first to step through, breathing a sigh of relief at how neither Belle nor the Prince seemed to harbor any resentment as the other young mademoiselle did.
"Adam and I will see Monsieur Gold and his family to the gates while you speak with Claire," Belle assured her friend, a somber look on her face.
Gaston nodded his gratitude and before heading towards the door, noticing that Claire had not yet come out, he lifted his chin resolutely to look at Gold.
"Safe travels back home, then, monsieur…wherever it is that you live, Gold," he barked, somewhat roughly by way of greeting, though there was a part of Gaston's conscience that would be secretly glad if he never set eyes on him again, and one look from Gold told Gaston that the older Scottish gentleman felt the same way about him.
Gaston had nothing more to say to Gold and turned on the heels of his boots, and disappeared through the oak door, smart enough not to look back.
Once the Prince and Belle had located Belle and baby Gideon, both letting small smiles flit across their faces as Gold's wife was awestruck and marveling at the Prince's thousands of collections of books, exclaiming to Gideon there were more books in here than she or he could read in their lifetimes.
Neither of them bothered to address either the Prince or Belle, preferring to walk in silence, until the two of them had escorted Gold and his wife and son to the edge of the gates, protesting their refusal of a horse that would see them safely through the Wolves Woods, stating they knew the way back to Agathe.
"Are you sure you won't stay?" Belle pleaded towards Gold and his wife.
She felt as though she had asked at least ten times now, and somewhat desperately and yet already knew what his answer would be, but it didn't stop her from asking it anyways as she walked arm in arm with Gold's wife, as best as she could considering Gold's wife's arms were full of their babe and shot Gold a crestfallen, sad look.
Gold shot the Prince and Belle an apologetic look and shook his head, a strange glint of something unreadable flitting through the man's eyes just then. Though whatever it was, was gone by the time Belle and Adam had both noticed it and had exchanged a curious look with one another then.
"No, dearie. We've stayed here too long as it is. We need to be getting back, it's for the best that we not stay. I shan't go into it. Trust us," Gold beamed, though his smile was somewhat strained, though for whatever his reasons were, Belle thought she couldn't even begin to guess what that reason was.
"Were that we could, milady, but we can't," Gold's wife Belle shyly spoke up, shooting the young woman a shy smile as she rocked their babe in her arms. "We've our own home and our own families. We…wish you the best of luck in your…your union." She seemed to be struggling with her words.
It did not escape the Prince or Belle's attention how Gold and his wife would exchange little gazes as if they knew something of them, their future together, that they did not. It unnerved her, but considering the man was magic, Belle thought it best not to ask, and she could tell Adam felt it too.
Belle exchanged a look with Gold and frowned.
Maybe this is how Henry always feels back home, she thought, chewing on the wall of her mouth, and giving her head a curt shake, deeming it best not to reveal to the others that they were, in fact, her great-great-great-grandparents. She didn't even begin to understand it, but Rumple had promised to fill her in once they returned to the safety and time of their home, not here, and especially not in front of them.
She knew very little of her grandparents, just portraits and the like, but seeing them up close and personal and quite literally in the flesh, she was not prepared for how truly striking and powerful yet peaceful the couple looked, a complement of one another, and truly a future force to be reckoned with here in France.
Belle frowned and thought over her words, and only when she felt Rumple's hand over her shoulder, giving the appendage a light but firm squeeze, did Gold's wife summon enough strength on her throat to continue saying her quiet farewells.
"I've enjoyed the brief time that I have had with you. Will you ah, please tell Gaston again, thank you, from the very bottom of my heart? My husband and I owe him a debt that we will never be able to repay," she swallowed down hard, her face draining off what little color was left as she clutched Gideon even tighter her to breast, thinking that this Gaston's resemblance to the Gaston whom she had once been engaged to, was rather uncanny.
"We will," Prince Adam reassured her gravely.
She nodded her thanks and thought a moment.
Belle thought it unwise to reveal to the two of them that this Gaston was another great relative, and the warning look Rumple shot her all but confirmed it, so she clamped her mouth shut in utmost regret.
She thought it strange, to see her grandparents so very young and in their twenties, younger than her now, but then again, stranger things had happened. Belle let out a tired sigh and glanced down at her babe nestling contently, asleep in his swaddling and making soft cooing noises while he was asleep.
She lifted her gaze and looked towards Rumple, silently asking if it was alright, just this once, for a moment, to bring her great-great-grandparents back home with them, that they could see the world they lived in, but the admonishing warning stare she was on the receiving end from her husband told her not to.
Belle nodded, her shoulder slumping in defeat, turning away, and breathed out a shaking breath before turning slightly at the waist and raising her hand to wave as she began to walk through the gates of the Prince's castle, one of Rumple's hands on the small of her back, guiding her forward and away from the great-great-grandparents that she never knew, but was pleased to have met them.
Belle smiled softly to herself as she held tightly to Gideon, thinking Emma and Regina and Snow and the rest back home were definitely not going to believe that she had accidentally allowed D'Arque and his men to kidnap her and Gideon when she had tried to follow Rumple through the portal with his dagger to stop him from getting himself hurt.
Her last thought as she allowed Rumple to lead her and their son safely through the Wolves Woods was how glad she was that Gold had kept his promise and hadn't killed anyone, as he had threatened to do when she'd first gotten herself kidnapped by D'Arque, and her husband had taken to shouting out threats.
A wide smile erupted on her face as she caught the familiar sight of Agathe standing by a makeshift-looking hut that looked like Rumple had crafted via means of his magic as a temporary housing situation while he had worked to free her and their son from D'Arque.
Agathe said nothing, the enchantress merely stepping back to allow the two of them to pass through the still-open portal that she now no longer had to guard, as her charges were here.
Her last thought as she let Rumple take her arm and lead her back home through the portal, was that she wished she could have told them the truth but would have to be content in knowing how their story ended.
And that, Belle Gold supposed, was good enough for her.
WHILE Belle and the Prince had chosen to take a stroll through the property's gardens, winter though it was, after seeing Gold and the man's family safe through the front gates of the castle, and to discuss further wedding plans, Gaston knew that it was to give him and Claire privacy to make amends, for which he was grateful. But it was not enough to stop just how bloody worried he was.
The seasoned military captain was suddenly stricken with fear, uncertain as to the reception he was to receive on the other side of the wooden panel. His hand was violently shaking as he reached for the large brass doorknob.
With his heart leaping up into his throat, Gaston quietly opened the door and stepped into the room that he knew Claire to be behind, though he supposed he should thank God she had, for now, stopped shouting. Though a part of him wondered if he was to be on the receiving end of her temper next.
He shut the door behind him, smart enough not to look back, and braced himself for whatever came next.
CLAIRE had known very little sleep since Gaston had left the Prince's estate alongside Gold, whom she had spent the better part of a half-hour shouting at while the strange bloke had tried to argue his case, to which she had shut down, not wanting to hear another word of the Scottishman's mouth, and he had obliged.
Her guilt at how they had last parted ways threatened to consume her and eat her alive. Claire wished that she had been able to give Gaston the proper farewell that her handsome hero and soldier deserved, to send him on his way with a loving kiss and smiling hopefulness for his return, instead of the hateful anger and venom she had spewed at him.
How wrong she had been, to treat him that way. Gaston had sworn what he promised he'd do.
He had killed D'Arque and seemingly all for her, or so Gold had told her, one of the first words he had managed to get out of his mouth before Claire had launched into her tirade, having built up steam from her pent-up frustrations over the last few days while she waited anxiously for his return.
Claire's safety, not to mention Belle and the Prince's, was ensured because of Gaston's actions.
She drew in a sharp breath and held it as the unmistakable sound of the door creaking open and shutting in its iron rusted hinges reached her ears.
She did not turn around, half afraid to hope.
And then she heard it. Her name, whispered, the voice nearly a whisper coming from behind her.
It was choked and seemed to crack with the onset of tears like the same ones that she was currently losing her fight to control, losing horribly.
For a moment, she thought maybe a servant, or perhaps the Prince had come to check on her, but no. The voice was too hoarse, too familiar, too dear.
She would know that voice anywhere.
"Claire," Gaston breathed, shocked at the realization that he was finally looking upon her after days of being apart, though it had felt way too long.
Gaston could not even bring himself to move, and neither could Claire as she straightened her gait and froze, terrified that even with the slightest movement from her, the ghost in front of her would disappear. She closed her eyes, savoring Gaston's smooth, melodious voice in her mind.
Why would her courage pick now to fail her, after all this time?
She didn't think she could bear it if this were just her distraught mind playing another of its tricks.
Gaston took another step in Claire's direction. When the baker's daughter made no move to turn around, the soldier feared that she was still furious with him for leaving her, but then he saw how her shoulders were stiff and how she was holding her breath. This gave him pause. Perhaps she was as nervous as him.
"Won't you look and turn around?" Gaston asked Claire softly, aching to hold her.
"I'm afraid if I do, you won't be there," Claire admitted shyly, a nervous little chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head, a dark curl tumbling in front of her face as she did so.
"Try it," Gaston urged, almost begging. Claire could hear the affection in his voice, and it gave her the courage. She drew in a deep breath to summon whatever strength she had left. Very slowly and carefully, she moved around and found herself staring at Gaston.
Her tear-filled eyes as she looked upon the soldier's pale and handsome face begged him to forgive her, not realizing there was no need. He had never been angry with her from the start, and as for her part, Claire's own anger with Gaston had subsided the moment he had ridden out of the gates of the castle a few days ago.
Since then, all Claire had felt was the intense guilt that ravaged her mind and the need to have him back by her side, for him to come back as he had promised.
Now, even that was calmed, at least somewhat, she thought. He had returned to her, as promised.
Unable to bear being away from him any longer, even if but a few paces, Claire bounded forward on the heels of her boots and rushed into the soldier's arms, letting a cry of joy at the sight of him standing there waiting for her escape her lips. The sheer magnetic force of their attraction for one another pulled the soldier and baker's daughter together.
Their breaths mingled as one in an exuberant celebration, enjoying the sweet taste of one another's lips at last as Gaston did not hesitate to press his lips against hers, collecting that kiss she had denied him as he had always hoped that he would.
And then his eyes returned to Claire's as he pulled apart and he allowed himself a moment to lose himself in the endless pools of hazel that were her eyes, pulling her closer and kissing her passionately again, not getting enough with the first one, wanting even more of her.
"I'm sorry, Gaston," Claire sobbed into his neck when their lips finally parted. "I—I shouldn't have treated you so awfully when you left. I—I've regretted my behavior while you were away," Claire somehow managed to choke out through pained breaths as her breaths caught in her throat. "I should have wished you goodbye the proper way. I should have kissed you, Gaston," Claire lamented.
Gaston brought his hand up so his thumb could caress her tear-stained cheek and brush away the single tear that was trailing in a tract down the graceful slope of her temple.
"Kiss me now," he told her with a loving smile, telling her without so many words that there was no need of Claire to apologize.
Claire was only too eager to oblige in her handsome hero's request. They melted into one another's embrace one more. When their lungs begged for oxygen, Gaston and Claire reluctantly parted from the passionate embrace, but still remained entwined in one another's arms, they leaned into their mutual grasp, afraid their legs were too weak to stand on their own if either one of them were to let go.
Gaston let his eyes rake over the baker's daughter's form, pleased to see that she was wearing the gown that Belle had likely loaned her, the same delicious red and black velvet number with a golden embroidered dragon at the bodice, wondering if Claire knew that red and black were his family's house colors.
He knew that Belle was aware of such knowledge and could only assume that Belle had bequeathed it to Claire and insisted she wears it in the hopes that it would please him.
Making a mental note to get the Prince and Belle the best possible wedding gift that he could afford, he was pulled from his musings of what to offer them at the sound of her voice. He blinked, returning his attention back to Claire as she regarded him bashfully and spoke up.
"You did it, Gaston," Claire exclaimed in a breathless voice. "You did exactly what you swore you would do," she smiled at the military captain through the fresh tears now glittering in her eyes.
Gaston nodded and before he said anything else, he stole another quick taste of his lips.
"For you, my love," he acknowledged in earnest, regarding the baker's daughter seriously, glad that he had come home, that he had someone to come home to now.
Claire shakily lifted her fingers and slid them along the man's angular jaw, letting the pads of her fingertips run over the man's two-day stubble, which was getting prickly from his days without shaving.
"It couldn't have been easy," she acquiesced gratefully, knowing that D'Arque and Gaston were once familiar. Perhaps not bosom friends, no, but at the very least pleasant with one another and polite.
Shaking his head, Gaston was more than eager to alleviate her worries as his relief at his actions was evident for her to see as it shone brightly in his eyes.
"On the contrary, my love," he comforted her, reaching for her hand, and giving the appendage a squeeze. "Every bit of that snake's end was earned. It was one of the easiest things in my life I've ever done. All I had to do was to think of you," he told her somberly, not a hint of jest in his dark eyes as he looked into her eyes. "I could feel you with me there the entire time. In here," he murmured, taking the hand of hers that he held and placing it over his heart. He rested his face against hers as Claire leaned forward and held the soldier tightly. "I freed us," Gaston smiled, his voice very nearly a whisper.
Claire shivered with desire for him as his breath slid sultrily over the column of her throat as he briefly planted a trail of kisses along the line of her neck, his lips leaving a burning, tingling feeling in their wake as they skimmed before he planted another affectionate kiss on the lips and pulled back slightly to study her reaction.
The woman's nearness made him almost unable to move.
Finally, nothing was standing in his way anymore. His heart burst with his longing to take her as his wife once the Prince's festivities were over, as he did not wish to intrude upon his friend's happiness or steal the man's moment now that they had made amends.
It was then that he remembered what he carried. He slowly drew Claire towards the railing of the balcony's terrace and out onto the terrace for fresh air. She nestled close to him, unquestioningly.
The two of them stood together for a time in silence, content to bask in the warmth the other gave off, neither one of them feeling the cold of winter as the last remnants of winter were about to come to an end and spring would soon be upon them, thank God for that.
Gaston was quickly tired of the bitterly frigid cold and all of the damned blizzards. He looked forward to the spring when they could marry in the warmth and under the light of the sun. Gaston turned quietly to look at Claire. His countenance was so solemn that Claire almost shivered.
He took the fresh pillowcase that he had thought to swipe from one of the spare bedrooms that now contained D'Arque's hand, and thank God, it was no longer seeping and bloodstained but it still reeked. He saw Claire crinkle her nose and what little color was left in her face drained, but she said nothing.
He lowered his head as if he stood before another enchantress, and he supposed that, in a way, Claire Renaud was. She was his enchantress, she had wormed her way into his heart without him even realizing it, and knelt reverently in front of her, as though she were a goddess and he wished for nothing more than to worship at the young mademoiselle's feet.
Claire watched Gaston in awe, unable to move or speak.
"My love," Gaston began, addressing her affectionately, "without you, there is no light in my life." He looked up at her, a shinning pressure building in his eyes. "I have suffered what it means to live in a world where you do not exist. I have known that pain and never again will I endure it, milady," he said. Claire almost wanted to weep at the depths of the soldier's emotion but managed to keep calm. "I bring you this gift and set it at your feet as a symbol of my fidelity and fealty to you, to my love for you, and my pledge to you here and now that nothing and no one will ever part us again." Gaston passionately swore to the young woman whom he loved. He then rose to his feet and silently held out the casing which contained D'Arque's head for Claire's introspective inspection.
Claire stood stock still and grim as a grave studying this so-called gift that Gaston had for her.
She reached out a timid hand and rested it on top of the pillowcase. From the shape and size of it, and the way the fabric draped rather crudely over its contents, she knew immediately what it was.
"What does it contain, my love. What did you bring me?" Claire asked, trying to keep her voice as level-headed and emotionless as possible, already knowing what was in it. She was unable to take her eyes off it.
Gaston flinched. "It's…a rather unconventional gift a man would give a woman, I know that," Gaston murmured, though he seemed to show no embarrassment over his choice, which Claire thought amusing, considering the man was a hunter and tracker.
This was, in a way, the man's prize, a trophy.
He continued. "One I doubt that you will want to keep, at least I hope not, but I hope that you will accept it in the spirit in which I bequeath it to you." Gaston stared deeply into her eyes, his stance filled with such a solemn seriousness that left Claire frozen in understanding. She could only return his stare gravely and lowered her chin in an accepting nod, telling him without words to open the casing.
Gaston exhaled slowly and brought the pillowcase closer towards him. He untied the knot that he'd sealed it tightly and reached inside, all the while never once reverting his gaze from his love.
Without any hesitation, he grabbed the now matted and gnarled black hair of Monsieur Mathias D'Arque and yanked it roughly from the wrappings.
Claire gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth as Gaston held up the older gentleman's severed head for her to see. After the worst of her initial shock and disgust had worn off, Claire bravely studied the features of the dead man's skull quietly.
The dead insane man's eyes, still open, glowered at her. D'Arque's lined and weathered face was dried and twisted into an eternal deathly scowl.
The remnants of his neck that remained attached were already beginning to decay. For all the man's wrath in his life, he would not hold power over their village or them either again.
After a moment, Claire's horrified and terror-stricken, ashen expression immediately turned to one of relief.
She angrily regarded the head of the man who had so violently murdered the man she loved and would have killed Belle without so much as a second thought and would have taken the Prince back to his fortress and performed God knows what kind of experiments on the poor man to 'burn out the corruption within him,' as the man had oft been fond of saying of his treatments towards those whom he believed afflicted by a witch's curse.
Much to Claire's surprise, the only emotion she realized she felt now was joy and relief. She couldn't help it. She was free, Gaston was free, the Prince, Belle, her father, their village, all of them.
They were all free, and the monster who had worn the head that now dangled lifelessly from Gaston's iron grip would not hurt them.
She swallowed down hard and tore her gaze away from the man's decapitated head, bile rising in her throat. She did not want to look upon the disgusting sight any more than she had to. It was enough for her to know that he was dead and that the man could harm no one else anymore with his unethical experiments.
"What…what, ah, should we do with it?" Claire asked shyly, turning her gaze towards Gaston, feeling nothing but pride for the handsome soldier in front of her.
It was a reaction that she paid attention to was evident upon his face as he looked past the severed head of D'Arque and seemed content to look at Claire instead.
"I thought, you might want to feed it to the wolves," he grinned, offering a sly smile which tugged the edges of his mouth upwards into a rather mischievous smirk, one that Claire was only too happy to return now.
She lifted her chin in acceptance of the triumphant soldier's suggestion. "A fitting end," she said.
Gaston nodded his agreement. "Care to do the honors?" he asked, holding his offering at her eye level.
Claire shook her head and pulled a face. "No," she refused. "You killed him, you cut the head off the snake, you should have the privilege of dispatching his head. Let his head be a snack for the very wolves that killed you, but I doubt that even they will want him," she joked.
Her eyes were twinkling perhaps a little bit too merrily and not very ladylike of her all, but then Claire noticed that Gaston's dark eyes were also bright too, and then she did not feel quite as bad about thinking this.
"If you're sure," Gaston accepted, looking a little bit shocked at her refusal, but less so than he expected to be, as he lowered his head reverently before her. Taking a step back to give himself enough space between them, Gaston positioned D'Arque's severed head in his hand just so in order to thrust for the greatest possible distance, with his target, of course, being the woods.
He drew his arm sharply back as far as he could, and without a moment's hesitation lobbed his trophy as far out over the castle's balcony railing as he could manage. D'Arque's head sailed into the air in a wide arc.
It was one hell of a throw. Out of the corner of his eye, Claire thought he saw Gaston smile, watching as it flew out into the canopy of trees and then plummeted somewhere into the woods, beyond their line of sight.
Both Gaston and Claire imagined the last remnant of their tormentor being devoured by wolves.
Finally, D'Arque was gone forever, and the two of them and the Prince and Belle could begin to move forward. Both exhaled slowly as they turned to stare at one another, as if unsure what to do next now that their shared torment and the tormentor was dead.
It was Gaston who decided what their next course of action was.
Gaston stepped to Claire's side, and slowly drew the young woman around to face him.
Without saying a word to her he knelt at her feet, gingerly taking her hand, and held it in his before pressing her knuckles to his lips for a gentle and chaste kiss. She quickly realized that Gaston Dupont was trembling, perhaps for the first time in his life, and gaped at him, almost in utter shock.
Gaston Dupont, the hero of their village, a scourge of France and a plague upon other countries when he had been an enlisted man and still a captain, no whip nor blade has ever scarred his chest, but the scars on his heart that she had given him by refusing his kiss the day he had left the Prince's castle would.
The villagers said that Gaston was a man who served no one but himself, but the taste of her succulent kiss lingered and burned upon his lips. The villagers said that he was a man who never submits, but no one else saw for themselves how the man's bones were almost chafed, hurting as he knelt on the cold stone balcony terrace, surrendering so that the only place Gaston Dupont would kneel would be before Claire.
He knelt in total submission to her as he asked of the baker's daughter a question that he had one day hoped to ask Belle, and now, God bless, he was grateful he hadn't, for he would not have his Claire.
"Milady Claire Renaud, my light, my love," Gaston began speaking slowly, his voice trembling with emotion. "I am not a man of words like Adam is. I am learned in them, aye, but they were never my strong suit. I have no words now to express how deeply I love and adore you and your kind and selfless heart." Gaston's expression was far too solemn for the man to even think about shedding a tear now. "You've given me a life that I could have only dreamed of, Claire. A life that is filled with hope, love, and trust. Your love and the honor of winning your heart is perhaps the greatest and most wonderful thing that has ever happened to a wretch and a bastard man like me." His dark eyes searched her gaze and found nothing but love, coupled with slight disapproval at the low opinion he suspected that he would always repute himself, no matter what Claire or anyone else for that matter said. "I lay my heart now at your feet, milady, for it belongs to you. It has always been yours, I think."
He hoped that she would understand the bonding of their souls to which he referred and the implications behind them.
As Claire watched him, she drew in a shallow breath and held it, afraid that she would dissolve into weeping at his heartfelt confession, and she wanted to appear strong for her handsome soldier. Finally, Gaston thought he could hold in his plea no longer and had to know what her answer would be, hoping it would be yes.
"Claire?" he begged. "Once Adam and Belle have married and our friends have their happiness, would you do me the honor of granting mine in the spring, when it's a bit warmer? Will you marry me, my life? Be my wife?" he asked, almost as if his request were a whispered prayer, never reverting his gaze once.
Claire could no longer control the happy tears that spilled from the edges of her eyes as she answered him from her heart. Nodding with joy, she granted Gaston's wish as she helped the man stand on his feet.
"Yes."
She whispered the one-word answer, the only right answer, thinking that never in her life had she felt such pure happiness. Her bliss was matched only by Gaston's elation as he took her in his arms and kissed her long and slow, celebrating their promise with a kiss.
He thought he never wanted to release her from this embrace but knew that sooner rather than later, he would have to. Their friends deserved to know the news.
"I love you," he whispered, confessing the three heartfelt words he had never once taken for granted, as he rested his forehead against hers, drinking Claire in.
Claire, in-kind, melted into Gaston's embrace, savoring the feel of her handsome hero.
"And I love you," she responded, the look of adoration in her hazel eyes warming her heart as he murmured quietly to her under his breath that the Prince and Belle were undoubtedly looking for them, that they would want to know their news.
Though judging by the rich gown Claire wore that showed his family's colors, he had every right to suspect that Belle harbored an inkling as to his intent to ask Claire to marry him and had set this up.
"Shall we go tell them? Adam and Belle, my love?" he said, an affectionate smile snaking its way onto her features at seeing the woman he loved who was now his betrothed nod her head eagerly, picking up the skirts of her red velvet gown to avoid tripping over the long hem as she allowed herself to be led back into the room and out towards the hallway to find the others.
She stopped him in the hallway and gestured towards the dress that Belle had loaned her for the night, claiming she could keep it, that red and black and gold suited Claire far more than it ever could on her.
The look of adoration in his eyes warmed her heart as she already cherished the life they were building together but had just one question as Gaston slipped a ring onto her finger that Gold had given him on the way back, a ring that he recognized as coming from his family.
Though when he had pressed the sorcerer on how Gold had managed to obtain it, the older Scotsman had remained stubborn and tight-lipped. The simple gold band on Claire's ring finger glittered in the light which emanated from the torch fires in their sconces.
"How do I look?" Claire shyly asked, a smile tugging the edges of her mouth upward as she gestured towards her borrowed dress and the gold ring on her finger, intertwining her arm with Gaston's as she allowed the military captain to lead her down the hall in search of Belle and Adam, and hopefully Maurice too.
Gaston pridefully glanced at Claire Renaud out of the corner of his eye as he walked, his arm snaked around her waist, and thought that he had never seen a more lovely and perfect sight than her and said as much.
"You look good wearing my future."