Written for yuidirnt at comment_fic.
Prompt: Better to die ten thousand deaths, Than wound my honour.
A MAN OF HIS WORD
by Leni
Gaston points his sword at the Dark One, and the next thing he knows, he's standing on the hill that marks Avonlea's boundary to the north, on the way to the snow mountains, and only a few miles from Sir Maurice's castle. Gaston blinks, clutching his weapon in case the Spinner is tricking him, that it has left him unharmed just to play some sadistic game with him. The Dark One is cruel, everyone knows, and his games are crueler yet.
But no attack comes.
Slowly, Gaston realizes that he's been dismissed like so much as a naughty child, and he grits his teeth against the insult. Then he realizes it's almost night, when he heeded the advice of those who claimed the demon could not abide sunlight, and chose the brightest time of the day to face the monster.
(Later, he'll figure out that he was missing almost two weeks instead of a few hours, and he'll grow ever more puzzled at having all his limbs attached after that long under the Dark One's power.)
He starts toward the city, inwardly cringing at the thought of laying his defeat at Sir Maurice's feet. It's not just his fiancée that he's failed to recover, but his liege's daughter.
It was a matter of honor, to go to her rescue.
Not that he doesn't care for Belle. He does, all doubts swept away after she marched to her doom with her head held high. He might even say that he loves her, if love is this twist of pride in her bravery even as he wants to shake her for agreeing so easily to the Dark One's conditions instead of letting the men negotiate.
(He can't see how they'd have been successful, but couldn't she let them try?)
But it's not for his feelings that Gaston tried for months to rouse enough support to defy the dark One and get Belle back. Love certainly didn't keep him arguing against Avonlea's Council, a bunch of useless civilians and weary old warriors if he's ever seen one, their weapons long dulled and their fire extinguished. They were unwilling to send their men to die, after they'd lost so many against the ogres. Nobody broke a deal with the Trickster, they said, not and could expect him to keep his side of it. They missed Sir Maurice's daughter, they said, and they mourned her loss, but even if they'd never say the words in front of Sir Maurice, as he himself headed the Council, they meant that no girl was worth bringing the Dark One's displeasure over their heads.
And when Gaston declared that he'd go by himself, if they were too cowardly to back him, how they'd laughed at him, calling him all kinds of fool. And how they will laugh, when they see him return empty-handed!
No, Gaston decides, coming to a halt and turning away from Avonlea. He will not hear their jeering. He cannot, and still call himself a knight. He must return with Belle or not at all.
Back to the Dark Castle, then.
And again, he has barely reached its gates before he's tossed back across the mountains.
(No time missing this time, at least).
He's a stubborn one, Gaston. He's not afraid of death, not even at the Trickster's hands. Better ten thousand deaths, he thinks, than to give up.
Because, above all, Gaston is a man of his word. He promised to marry this girl, and marry her he will, no matter what she's been subjected to. Belle sacrificed herself for all of them; he cannot shirk his duty by her, come what may.
And he loves her, he reminds himself.
By the fifth time Gaston reaches the Dark Castle, a month or so after his first attempt, the Spinner is leaning against the main gate, having obviously spotted him with enough time to change his mind about their usual encounters. He doesn't flick his fingers to send Gaston away, but instead straightens and nods as if to welcome an expected guest.
Gaston raises his sword.
The Dark One ignores the gesture. "I'll make you a deal," he drawls, hands in his pockets.
Gaston is no fool, and he figures that when the enemy is an evil, powerful wizard, it's not dishonorable to strike without warning.
The Dark One tuts impatiently, raising a hand to freeze Gaston's blow mid-way. "So violent. No, no. That won't do, dearie." He wiggles his fingers, and Gaston tries unsuccessfully to swallow as he feels his feet sink into the ground. "Now, my stubborn knight, do stay quiet before I plant your lovelier self in my gardens, are we clear?" A stained smile makes its appearance, both mocking and sharp, and Gaston shivers before he realizes it's not mocking him. "And before you get your hopes up," the Dark One continues, "I have little mercy left, even for her family and friends. Do not count on it again."
Gaston cannot figure out what he's been threatened with, but a threat this is. The reference to Belle infuriates him - for this monster has no right to speak of her, as long as it keeps her away from the life she deserves! - and he tries once more to fight the spell.
He lets out a soundless gasp, as it feels like ropes have tightened all around him.
"There," the Spinner says, nodding at his work. "Now, back to this little deal..." And his hand does a twirl that ends with him gripping the biggest hand mirror Gaston has ever seen. A wiggling of his fingers allows Gaston to draw some breath back into his lungs, and the Dark One approaches, holding the mirror up so Gaston can see not his reflection, but a cloudy blur on its surface. "Here it is," the Dark One says, "Let's keep it simple, shall we? No... layers." And he giggles at this. "How about you agree to never come to my doorstep again - ever - and I agree to allow you one glimpse of the girl?"
Gaston cannot feel any magic at work, except for the one that holds him, but he dares look into the Dark One's eyes and he understands that he - and the mirror, somehow - needs him to agree before the spell can work.
Naturally, if the monster needs something, he must be denied.
He shakes his head, expecting pain and death, and instead gets a snarl and a fifth instant trip back the way he came from.
(It's not until later, much later, that it dawns on Gaston that the Dark One perhaps wanted that glimpse, and nothing more.)
Three more times he makes his way to the Dark Castle, and every time he's turned away before he's even reached the little town at the base of the mountains.
The next attempt marks the third time he and the Spinner exchange words. Even Gaston knows that something must happen, for a third time is always the charm. The first sign that this will be a different interview is when the main gates are waiting wide open for him, and every door after it opens before he can touch it. His grip tight around the pommel of his sword, Gaston follows the wordless invitation into the Dark Castle, wondering why he doesn't fear a trap.
Because he could have been a cockroach under the Dark One's boot, these eight last times Gaston has come against him.
Then he is entering a great hall, and he must blink against the sudden daylight pouring through the tall windows. A creaking sound calls him to attention, and he turns toward it, blinking some more when he recognizes the structure standing on a dais on the other side of the table.
A spinning wheel.
And next to it, a man working at it.
The Spinner, they call him, a name so old Gaston has never wondered at the truth of it. They tell the children that he makes straw into gold, but this must be the first time in decades that someone has seen how it's done. (Aside from Belle? Where is Belle?) "What trick is this?" Gaston demands out loud, a little surprised that he's been allowed to keep his voice this time.
Because, however his eyes were fooled for a moment, it's not a man who stands before him. Never a man. The Dark One, Gaston reminds himself. The Trickster, people call him as well.
"A trick!" The words are punctuated by the sudden silence that follows, as the wheel stops spinning. "Yes, of course. That would be nice, wouldn't it?" The Dark One steps forward, and when his eyes fall on Gaston this time, there's centuries of darkness in them.
For the first time, Gaston is afraid.
Which means he straightens and bellows, "Kill me at once, or give me the girl," he dares.
The Dark One laughs. It's the most awful laugh Gaston has ever heard, closer to the sound soldiers make when they try to make light of a lost limb. "Yes, yes. Would that I could, but, alas, the matter has been taken from my hands. Quite permanently, it seems."
There's a wildness in the voice, no matter the little smirk, and Gaston feels as if he's facing a hungry wolf in the middle of winter instead of a master of magic inside his great castle. "What-?"
The Dark One appears right before him, and for the first time Gaston realizes he's quite taller than the other man - than the monster, damn it! - when he must bend his head to look at him. Because look at him he must.
"She's gone," the Dark One growls, and it's an injured beast Gaston hears, howling his... pain? Confused, alarmed, he tries for a strike. In vain. The sword between them vanishes, and dark nails are gripping his coat. Gaston forgets how much bigger he is when he is shaken around like so much as a twig. "Don't you see?" the Spinner continues, his voice deepening, splintering at the edges, "You did it all for nothing! You gave it your all, and you tried and tried to do the best by her, and she's gone anyway!"
The outburst stops as soon as it started, and Gaston tries not to show how unsettled he is.
The Dark One, back next to his spinning wheel, lets out another laugh. "Count yourself lucky that you never went back to her father, or we'd be having a different conversation. Or maybe not. I wonder if you'd have spoken out." Those awful eyes fix on him, and Gaston can feel as they seek beyond his bravery and his strength and the promises he must keep. "Ah. My fault then. Shouldn't have distracted such a dedicated man."
The spinning wheel starts its work again, and the Dark One bends over it, clearly dismissing him. "Don't come back, knight. I don't like to be reminded of my mistakes." And then, so low it's almost drowned by the creaking of the wood, "There's nothing worth your time, and there never will be. Not anymore."
Gaston waits for the flicker of those fingers to send him on his way.
When it doesn't come, he says slowly, connecting the dots of the strange conversation (if it can be called a conversation, when only one speaks his mind). "Belle is... dead?" The silence is his answer. "And," he tries again, having a harder time wrapping his mind around his next conclusion, "you didn't kill her."
The wheel comes to a grinding halt, and it takes a moment before the Dark One speaks. "Oh no, dearie," he says, lips twisted into what most would call a smile, "I most certainly did."
Gaston's first impulse is to charge at him, sword or not. But he stops himself before he gives a single step. He's been a soldier for years, and has fought in more bitter battlegrounds than the fight against the ogres. He's seen men grow bitter and mean, and has watched as they forgot what a life is worth. He's young, and he may not care about deep learning and philosophies, but he does know what makes a man a killer.
"She should never have come," he says.
The Dark One hums in agreement, nothing more.
Gaston spins on his heel, and leaves the Dark Castle for the last time.
(He never sees the Spinner again. Not in the Enchanted Forest, anyway.)
THE END
12/11/14