By the time they reached the Lodge in the village, Gaston was in the blackest black mood he had ever been in. Not even Le Fou could do anything to improve things - and he was the only one who dared get within several feet of him in the first place at a time like this, when Gaston was sulking so angrily in his enormous armchair. Beer was splattered across the walls where Gaston had thrown it, and it streaked down into frothy little pools on the floor.

To make matters worse, no matter how deeply Gaston furrowed his brow, nor how far he stuck out his lower lip, the other people in the Lodge simply wouldn't stop talking about Belle's recent wedding to the Beast-Prince, and what an amazing event it had been. In fact, over the past several hours since Gaston had arrived at the Lodge, his mood had actually managed, amazingly, to get even worse. He felt as though if he heard the name 'Belle' one more time, or another mention of her precious prince, that he would want to scream. He couldn't, of course, thanks to that wretched enchantress. He couldn't make any sound at all.

"Peh!" Le Fou scoffed, eyeing the other patrons in annoyance as he brought over a couple more mugs of beer for himself and Gaston. "Would ya listen to these jerks? 'Oh, the dress was so dainty'," he mocked, making a comically overemphasized face, "and 'they're such a lovely couple'! If you ask me, Belle got what she deserved," he went on scathingly, oblivious to Gaston's irritation. "I mean, of course you-"

BONK.

Gaston lifted his fist from the top of Le Fou's head where he had let it sharply drop, and watched his little friend topple over dizzily onto the floor, spilling both mugs of beer over his own head in the process. Gaston couldn't scream, but the chance at any outlet for his anger felt good. Why did Le Fou have to mention her name, anyway? Couldn't he tell that Gaston was upset enough already?

Well, he couldn't sit here and sulk forever. Placing his large hands on the plush arms of his chair, Gaston pushed himself to his feet, stepped over Le Fou, and stomped out the door of the Lodge.

What he needed, Gaston decided, was a hunting trip. A good, long one - two or three days away from the village at least. Hearing a loud clatter and the Lodge door slamming open behind him, Gaston turned to see Le Fou popping outside, already carrying his hunting gear. Good old Le Fou, he thought in spite of himself. He's read my mind! With a suddenly cheerful beckoning wave of one large, muscular arm to his small friend, Gaston turned and stomped towards the edge of the village that met the woods.

"Good! You're feeling better," Le Fou observed, panting slightly as he hauled Gaston's heavy hunting rifle and a large brown sack along, while running very fast on his short legs to catch up with Gaston's long stride. "What are you going to hunt today, Gaston? Ducks? Deer? ...Gaston?"

Gaston reached down and snatched up his rifle away from Le Fou, putting it up over his shoulder. He couldn't, of course, answer Le Fou's questions, but he wasn't really in the mood to talk much anyway. As for what he would hunt... the first thing that got in his way, that's what.

It was beautiful. A fat, fine buck with a set of antlers that would make the deer's head another wonderful trophy for Gaston to display on the wall once he shot it. He aimed his rifle silently through the thick leaves of the forest at the animal, hardly breathing as he waited for the perfect shot. It was at times like this one that Le Fou was completely quiet and still as well, just a comforting silent companion in among the trees.

"What are you doing here?" a lordly voice asked angrily from somewhere above and behind Gaston - his shot went wild, and the buck dashed off to the side and out of sight. Infuriated, Gaston turned to meet the voice, even as he felt Le Fou tugging at his elbow.

"That's him, Gaston! That's the beast - the prince - that's him!"

Of course, Gaston could work that out perfectly well for himself. Although the young sandy-haired man was unrecognizable on his own, who else would be riding double on that farm horse, sitting right behind Belle?

"I thought I told you to leave!" the prince continued, frowning angrily down at the pair of hunters, "and now you're poaching in my forest?"

Belle, on the other hand, merely seemed stunned. "Gaston! You're alive! But how?"

"That's right!" the prince said, his eyebrows lifting from a frown to a look of surprise at his wife's words. "I remember you fell from very near the top of my castle! How could you have survived that?"

Gaston, of course, could not reply, as he looked up at them sullenly. Just who he hadn't felt like running into on what was supposed to have been a relaxing hunting trip - a chance to think, even. Besides, what business was it of theirs? What did they even care if he lived or died to begin with?

But Le Fou was already answering for him. "The triplets found him on the bank of the river that runs from your castle to the village!" he explained. "He must've fallen in there, isn't that right Gaston? Since he's so big and strong it was no problem for him to swim to shore! Of course, if he'd landed somewhere else, then I guess it would've been 'splat!', but not Gaston! No, he -"

BONK.

Gaston frowned down at his companion where he still lay facedown in a little patch of mud, as Gaston had knocked him there with a quick slap on the back. Le Fou soon righted himself, however, seeming none the worse for wear as always.

"Well, whatever the reason," Belle said, still looking quite startled although her expression softened considerably at her next words, "I'm glad you're all right, Gaston. I never wanted you to get hurt. I just wanted you to see the beast - " she paused, with a smile, and turned on Philippe's back to put a hand on her prince's. "I - I mean Stephan, the way I did. Oh! I have an idea," she said suddenly, turning forward again to smile at Gaston and Le Fou. "Why don't the two of you come visit us at the castle?" She quickly waved away Prince Stephan's objections. "Don't worry, ever since Papa and I moved to that village, I've never seen Gaston raise a weapon to another human being. He was only 'hunting' you when you were a beast. He'd never harm you now - isn't that right, Gaston?" she asked sternly, her tone leaving room for no disagreement as she fixed him with a stubborn look.

Reluctantly, Gaston nodded. He was surprised by what she'd said. It was true of course, but how did Belle manage to notice things about him that he had never realized himself? That sharp mind had been part of his desire to have her for his own. What an impressive man he would have been, to have a wife like that to answer to him!

"Very well," Stephan agreed reluctantly, giving Gaston a look that clearly showed he was remembering that knife in his side.

For Gaston's part, it was hard to imagine that this civilized prince had once been a foul beast with razor sharp fangs and massive claws.