Chapter 13

To Belle, the ride from the castle back to the village seemed longer than ever. She was exhausted from crying, the pain in her side, and the shock of Adam casually telling her that he was going to kill Gaston at dawn... and that it was all for her own good.

Because of her, a man would die. It didn't matter if the sentence was carried out by the executioner or Adam. Ultimately, she was the only one responsible for this.

"Belle?" her father said. "We're home."

Home? It seemed ages since she had set foot in her home. How much time had passed since Gaston had knocked on the door to take her and her father away? She still couldn't tell time. It could have been weeks, or days.

Her father helped her to the couch. The last book she had read was still there. How ironic: the story of Bluebeard. The story of the nosy girl whose husband was a ruthless killer. If only she had paid more attention to this story.

Dusk was setting in, and she vaguely heard her father rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. "I'm afraid we don't have anything to eat," he said as he came back into the room. "I'd better go into town before all the stores close. It's getting late."

Belle didn't say anything. She heard her father speak, but she didn't listen to the words. She took the book and opened it directly to the page where the girl couldn't control her curiosity any longer and went into the forbidden room. How the blood was everywhere, the bodies of the other wives…and the rage her curiosity caused in her husband.

What had she caused herself by going in the West Wing? She had known she shouldn't be there, but she couldn't resist. Adam had had every right to be angry with her. But after their argument, things became better. They got closer - sharing their secrets, sharing their pain. She had thought she knew him, truly knew him. She couldn't imagine that her Adam would ever be so cruel as to sentence someone to death. But somehow, he had done just that.

"Belle?"

She looked up, it took her a split second before she realized that the man in front of her was her father. "Yes, Papa?"

Maurice sighed. He had tears in his eyes as he watched her. "Let's get you to bed."

She clutched the book against her chest and let her father help her to her bedroom. Her own bed. Her own things. It seemed strange to see here the books she treasured most, the dolls she had played with as a child. Like they were things from a world far away. Like they weren't even hers.

Maybe they weren't. Maybe she was still in the Maison. Maybe she was still delusional. Adam, a prince in human form, wanted to kill her husband, Gaston, who had forced her to marry him. That sounded as crazy as now being safe and sound in her own room surrounded by her own things.

"Try to get some sleep," her father said as he kissed her forehead. "Wounds heal faster when you rest." He left the room and slowly closed the door. The door creaked when he closed it.

Without being able to control herself, Belle started screaming. "Papa!"

"What is it, sweetheart?" He ran back into the room and took her in his arms again. She started to cry again. "My girl, what have they done to you?"

"Please, don't close the door," she sobbed. "Don't lock me up."

"Belle, look at me," he said tenderly. "I am your father, I will never lock you up." Her father pulled the blanket over her and stroked her hair. "Remember the stories your mother told you?"

"No more stories," Belle muttered softly with her eyes closed. "No more books. No more stories."

Her father was getting desperate. He was running out of things to say or do to comfort her. Maybe he had to get the doctor. He wasn't very good at nursing; she'd probably had a fever. His daughter needed help. He'd rather not leave her alone, but he had to.

"Belle, I will be back soon. I'm leaving the door and window open."

She didn't seem to hear him anymore. As she drifted off to sleep, he hoped he was doing the right thing.


Adam hadn't moved from the window in the West Wing. He had seen Belle and her father ride over the bridge back to her village. It was slowly getting dark outside. He didn't hear the knock or the door opening. It wasn't until he heard Lumière speak that he turned around.

"My prince, I have brought you your dinner," Lumière said as he came into the room. He placed the tray on a table and started to lay out the dishes.

"I'm not hungry," Adam said without looking at it. Food was the last thing he was in the mood for. He was counting the minutes till it was time for the execution.

Lumière coughed, but didn't leave. "You haven't eaten for two days, my prince."

"Has our convict already have his last supper?"

"No, but-"

"Then bring him mine!" Adam interrupted aggressively. "Whatever his heart desires, he can have!"

"Oui, my prince."

"I'll be in the library. Don't let anyone disturb me." Without waiting, Adam stormed out. The library was completely deserted. No fireplace was burning, no sounds came from outside. The silence was almost deafening. He lit one candle and searched the shelves. When he found the law books he was looking for, he returned to one of the desks. He dipped his quill in the ink and started writing.

Crimes:

Lying to royalty.

He scratched through the word 'royalty'. The prisoner hadn't known that Adam was a royal prince when they had first met in the woods. But he could have guessed that he was speaking to nobility when he lied about Belle's whereabouts. Lying to nobility was almost as bad as lying to royalty.

Lying to nobility.

It wasn't a serious crime, not severe enough for a death sentence, but it was the first crime the prisoner had committed. The man should be punished for every crime Adam knew of.

Tricking an innocent young girl into marriage

No, he didn't know that for sure. Even after speaking to Belle, he still wasn't sure whether or not Belle had willingly had accepted the prisoner's proposal. She had been scared, but still… He scratched through the entire sentence. He had to base this decision on facts.

Locking up a citizen without the proper authority to do so.

Now that was true: from what Adam had heard from the priest, Belle was locked away at the request of the prisoner. He had even said so himself: 'It was for her own good'. Only officials like mayors had the power to convict someone to protect them from themselves. Also not a very serious charge.

Attempted murder

That was serious enough.

He stretched and looked out the window. The sun was setting. He had been here for hours. That meant only a few more hours to go, and he would carry out his first execution. He felt how nervous he was. Was he supposed to be? He had made his decision. If he was a good ruler, he wouldn't have doubts. He couldn't remember his father ever having doubts. At least, his father never outwardly showed doubt about anything.

He rang the bell, and soon Cogsworth appeared. Adam handed him the paper. "Here, write it into some official document."

"As you wish, your highness."

As soon that was done, all he would need to do was sign it. Sign it, seal it, and it was decided. Ink and wax, that was all it took, and a man would die. "Cogsworth?" Adam said as Cogsworth reached for the doorknob.

"Yes, your highness?"

"I am doing the right thing." It was somewhere between a statement and a question. He wasn't even sure why he said it. He didn't need to explain anything to his butler or to anyone else. He could do whatever he wanted. He was the only one who had to be sure about what he was doing.

"Of course, you are, your highness," Cogsworth acknowledged. "You are convicting a dangerous man. You must do what is best for the country."

Adam looked at Cogsworth. "But what if it doesn't bring her back to me?"

Cogsworth stood in the doorway, not sure if he should speak his mind or not. "Then you still have to do what is best for the country." Adam didn't say anything. Cogsworth continued, "The girl has been through a lot. She might not see it now, but she might in the future."

"So I have to wait."

"With all due respect, your highness. After all these years of waiting, do those few days or maybe even weeks matter?"

Adam waved his hand, and Cogsworth left the library. Maybe Cogsworth had a point. That was how he had tried to write down the convict's crimes: neutrally, without thinking about Belle. Objectively looking at the facts of what happened. If he hadn't known Belle and he wasn't his old self, but the man he was now, then he still would do what he was about to do.

It wasn't what he wanted, but there was more at stake than just Belle. He had to do what was right. All he could do was wait and hope that one day Belle would forgive him.


Her footsteps echoed through the hallways. She was running from room to room, but she couldn't find the way out. It wouldn't take long before he found her. She had to be faster! If he found her, he could do anything he wanted with her.

Suddenly she saw a flash of his red shirt. She tried to hide, but it was too late. He had already seen her!

"Oh, Belle…" he sang softly as he walked in her direction.

"Please… no, Gaston! Please don't do this! I will be a good wife to you, I promise!" she begged as she backed away.

He smiled at her. In the dark, his teeth seemed whiter than ever. "I cannot do that, Belle. You know this is for your own good."

The door closed on her.

"Please, I will do everything you say!"

"This hurts me more than it hurts you, Belle."

"GASTON!"

"It's only for a few years…" he laughed. His laugh kept ringing in her ears. "It's only for a few years!"

Maurice sat on the edge of his daughter's bed. She was tossing and turning. He knew that she was having a bad dream, but he couldn't do anything to stop it. He rinsed out the cloth and dipped it in cold water, then carefully wiped the sweat off her forehead. The doctor had said that he should try to keep the fever down, and that her wound just needed time to heal.

There was an agitated knock on the front door.

"Maurice!" a male voice yelled. "Maurice, let me in!"

Maurice opened the door, apparently more abruptly than the person knocking had expected. The person tripped over his own feet and landed on the welcome mat. "Lefou?"

"Hey, Maurice," Lefou said as he got up like nothing had happened. He wiped the dust off his knees and kept standing there, waiting for Maurice to say something.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for Gaston."

Maurice gently tried to push Lefou out the door. "Look, Lefou, this isn't a good time."

"I just wanna know what happened to Gaston."

"I don't know."

Maurice wanted to close the door, but Lefou was quicker than he looked. He was small, but somehow he managed to push his way back in. "But Belle is back, isn't she? She must know! Can I talk to her?"

"No," Maurice said determinedly. "Belle is very sick. She cannot see anyone."

"PAPA!" A piercing scream came from the upper floor.

Lefou looked scared to death. "What was that?"

Maurice didn't answer, but left Lefou standing on the doorstep and ran upstairs.

She walked down the staircase in the golden dress Madame de la Grande Bouche had given her. Her heart was pounding in her throat. She was nervous, but in a good way. Adam was waiting for her. She bit her lower lip when she saw him. She wasn't frightened at his fur or fangs; she didn't even see them. She only saw her man waiting. To her, he looked so handsome.

She gave him her arm and let him lead her to a night full of miracle and romance.

The doors opened and she walked into the sunlight. The light was so bright she had to blink a few times before she could see.

"Look at him, crawling on his belly, like a worm!" Adam yelled as he pushed her forward, holding her head to make sure she couldn't look away.

The sight was awful. It was Gaston, but his face was covered in blood. He was so beaten up, he was almost unrecognizable. His hands were tied tightly behind his back. He tried to lift his head to look at her, but she could see he was in pain.

"I'm doing this for your own good, Belle," Adam said as he took the axe from the executioner. "This must be done!"

He lifted the axe. "It is over, Gaston. Belle is mine!"

"Adam, no!" In a reflex she tried to sit up straight, but the pain in her side prevented this. She was wide awake. Panting heavily, she looked bewildered around her. She had to get back to the castle. She had to talk to Adam. She couldn't let him do this!

"Sssh, Belle. It's all right," she heard her father's voice. It came from far away. She didn't see him till he sat down on the edge of the bed. "No one can hurt you here."

She grabbed the collar of his shirt. "He's going to kill him!" He didn't get it. Gaston was about to be executed! "He said it was the right thing to do! He called it justice!"

"No one is going to kill anyone, Belle. You are safe."

"No, not me! He's going to kill Gaston!" Belle shook her head. She tried to get out of bed, but her father pushed back in bed. "He will do so at sunrise!"

"You need to go back to sleep."

"I can't! I must do something!" She tried once more to stand up, but her father kept holding her down. "It's my fault!"

"Sweetheart, you're having a nightmare," he said. "It's not real."

Belle looked at her father. She didn't get it. "Not real?" she asked. How could it not be real? Gaston was going to be killed. Adam had said so himself. She couldn't have imagined that.

"You are dreaming."

She lay her head down on her pillow and thought about what her father said. Maybe she was dreaming. Things had been so strange and unbelievable the last few days. Her father was sitting there like nothing was going on. He wouldn't sit there so calmly if Gaston were in any real danger. But if that wasn't real...then what had Adam told her? And where was Gaston? She would go to Gaston's house tomorrow. She had to see for herself…

Maurice looked at Belle as she fell asleep again. What was he going to do with her? It seemed like she was only getting worse. With a sigh, he walked out of Belle's bedroom - and bumped into Lefou, who was standing in the hallway with an expression of pure shock.

"What happened to her?" Lefou asked.

"I wish I knew, Lefou."

"Was she serious about Gaston?"

Maurice shook his head and shrugged. "Her wound is causing a fever. She has constant nightmares. The doctor says it might take days before she is completely recovered," he explained. "If she recovers," he added, more to himself than to Lefou.

"Terrible," Lefou muttered. "I've got to go!"


Gaston sat in his cell, leaning against the wall and listening to the silence. There was not the slightest doubt in his mind that Belle would do what he had told her to. She was his wife; of course she would obey him. It was in her vows. She had to. Within moments she would come through that door and release him. Then his perfect life with his perfect bride could finally begin, and they would live happily ever after. Any moment now.

There it was: the door opened. Gaston grinned triumphantly and turned to the door in anticipation.

To his disappointment, it was not Belle, but the priest that had come here before. Gaston rolled his eyes. The man would no doubt start preaching about the 'sentence' that was going to be carried out and telling him that he had to confess his sins.

He had no sins. There was nothing to confess.

Right behind the priest came four guards, which made Gaston more wary, but he wasn't alarmed. He slowly stood up.

"Monsieur, it is time," the priest said.

"Time for what?" Gaston asked.

The priest avoided his look, but through the bars he gave him a pile of clothes. There were old and ugly. Plain brown, almost completely tattered. Not really his taste.

"Please change your clothes. Everything you own now belongs to his highness, the prince."

Gaston started to laugh. This was ridiculous. "The prince wants my clothes?" he mocked. "Doesn't he have tailors?"

The priest didn't say anything, but politely turned around. The guards didn't.

Gaston hesitated for a moment. He wasn't too thrilled at the idea of giving away his clothes and looking like a common prisoner. On the other hand, his wedding outfit was to look good in. It wasn't made to fight in. His coat would restrict him for sure. He wasn't sure what would happen when they released him, but it could be that he would need to knock out a few guards.

What did it matter? Within a few hours he would be home and he would change into his own clothes.

"I really don't need five men to help me to get changed," he commented as he started to take off his wedding coat. "I am perfectly capable of doing that myself, since I was four years old. I also don't need four men staring at me as I undress. Never knew our prince would have men in service who-"

"Everything," one of the guards interrupted as Gaston was about to put on the shirt.

Gaston stopped for a moment and smirked at the guy who had said it. "I knew it - there is always one." He took off his undergarments. "Well, not that I can't blame you for wanting to look at the perfection that is me. Look all you want, perverts, I don't care if you-"

The door opened again, and this time the captain of the guard came in.

"Gaston de Soleil: his royal highness Prince Adam, cousin to his majesty the king, has sentenced you to death. The sentence will be death by decapitation. We are here to bring you to the scaffold."

Gaston stared at him in shock. This could NOT actually be happening! Not to him!

The cell door opened, but he didn't walk out.

"Wait, you cannot… I cannot die!" he exclaimed, backing away in a panic. "Don't you know who I am? I am Gaston de Soleil! I'm the best hunter in the world! The best at everything!"

The captain gave his men a signal and the guards came into the cell. Gaston tried as hard as he could to fight them off, but it was five against one, and he hadn't eaten anything ever since his wedding day. He was weak. The guards didn't even have to do much to drag him outside. He kicked and yelled. He screamed. But it didn't help. For once he wasn't the strongest, he realized in horror.

When they arrived to the courtyard, he stopped screaming. All he could do was stare at the executioner, holding his axe. It couldn't true be that he was actually going to die. He was Gaston de Soleil. That name meant something. He wasn't a nameless nobody. He was…

"Gaston de Soleil, do you have any last words?"