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"And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul"

~John Muir

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Forest Of Beasts

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"Belle. You came back..."

Between the rain, lashing down on their bodies, and the Beast's hulking form above him, Gaston twisted the knife, and allowed himself a few seconds of hateful satisfaction.

A few seconds were all he had, before the Beast's form descended, and then Gaston realised he was falling too.

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Fall From Grace

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There was an irritating warmth cast across his face, which he cursed at first. Then he realised that perhaps he wasn't dead. It wasn't so irritating anymore, but it was confusing.

Gaston opened his eyes, suspicious more than relieved about the revelation. He might still be dead, after all. He'd never been one to dwell on the abstract or else unknown (or much else for that matter), though he did wonder if he might be in hell, and perhaps unconsciously, the thought didn't entirely surprise him.

Above was a beautiful canopy of green; trees swaying in a gentle breeze, and streams of soft white light occasionally peeking through the leaves, reaching his face and bathing it in that not so irritating warmth.

He hauled himself upright, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. It was a ragged, uneven gasp, almost like a sob, and Gaston immediately and fiercely chastised himself for it. He wiped a hand across his forehead, sweeping away locks of hair which were still wet with what had happened only moments before.

Was it moments? Gaston briefly cradled his head. It ached, but not with injury. More like a persistent and throbbing headache.

Testily he stretched out his legs. He wasn't so worried about any damage there anymore. The only pressing damage at the moment was that of his shattered pride and ego.

He grimaced; the image of Belle and her face was a permanent fixture in his mind's eye. He knew he wouldn't ever forget it, and perhaps that was the most telling clue that this might actually be hell.

At least, for a few seconds it was.

There was a grunt, like a deep exhalation, and Gaston jumped lightning-quick to his feet, because he recognised that sound far too easily now.

He turned slowly around, and attempted to disguise his braced expression.

The Beast stood a few feet away, yet his shadow still managed to reach and cover Gaston. His face was unreadable, a dim silhouette of danger which Gaston couldn't properly gage.

"...you," his voice quivered, but hopefully not enough to give away his nerves. "I-I killed you."

The Beast snorted, as though he might have told an awful joke, before turning slightly to the side. He seemed to glare at the ground, and Gaston noticed he was staring at something half-hidden in the grass. It shone against the sunlight above them, and he realised it was a hunting knife. His hunting knife.

Instinct reached him before anything else, and he leapt forwards to retrieve it. At the same moment something crushed severely into his side, and though he expected to meet the ground (and perhaps die again, oh what luck), he found himself being elevated off the ground, in a scenario all too familiar.

Only this time there was no use for fear.

Huge paws clung to his shirt collar, threatening to rip it apart, and hot breath touched his face.

The Beast's sneer was perhaps as twisted as his own.

"Do I look dead to you?" the Beast's voice was low and dangerous; a rumble of promised threats. His paw curled tighter on Gaston's shirt. "Do I feel dead to you?"

Gaston kept his sneer in place (or else he hoped); "Hah...you're as ugly and monstrous as I remember, Beast."

The Beast growled, but that wasn't what startled Gaston.

As the Beast lifted him up a bit higher, one of the peaks of light shining through the trees spread across his terrible face. There was no mercy in his blue eyes anymore, though. Nothing resigned or defeated within them that might have given Gaston the upper hand again.

That there was even an 'again' was a question in itself, but that didn't matter anymore. Gaston could feel the tension in his body falling away into horrified surrender. Perhaps this was his hell, to be subjected to the questionable mercy of the Beast over and over again.

Another sharper growl, and then Gaston felt himself hitting the ground with a force that made him groan. He glared up, but the Beast was already turning away from him, as if he didn't even matter.

Gaston gritted his teeth, and cast around, looking for the knife.

"Do you really think I'd let you attempt that again?" the Beast sounded bitterly amused.

Gaston stared at the monster's back, surprised by it's canny. So, it learned things. And remembered them too, as terrible as it was.

Gaston looked sullenly down, not enjoying the realisation at all.

"Are we dead?" the Beast said, as if he was musing anything but that. "I hardly feel dead."

Gaston stood up slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the beast like it was dangerous prey.

"How am I to know," he muttered, more to himself.

His head still hurt with that disorientating headache, as if someone had truly scrambled his mind up. He wondered shortly if the Beast felt the same way, but knew better than to question it. He wouldn't imagine or even dream about finding any familiar ground with the creature.

He did notice that the apparent stab wound had completely disappeared from the Beast's back, however. It was disconcerting, but he wasn't about to poke at that curiosity either. Besides, it wasn't like the Beast couldn't know for himself.

"We're in a forest," the Beast said, after a moment.

Gaston sneered at him. "Brilliant work, Beast."

The Beast snarled, and Gaston flinched back automatically, at the same time reaching behind his back. Despairing, he realised he couldn't find his bow and arrow. They must have been lost in the fall.

"Do you have any better deductions?" the Beast asked, in a testy voice. 

"None at all."

It wasn't an admittance, but Gaston did feel unusually wary, of everything, even discounting the Beast's presence.

This forest, wherever it was, did not have the same feel as any usual forest Gaston had ever ventured into, and he had been in many, on many hunts through the years.

There was something strange and...offbeat about it. Like the edges were too soft and vague, and anything could creep into his vision at any moment; those old folk stories of reptilian beasts and fierce dragons, beautiful unicorns and so many other fantastical and unbelievable creatures. None of that would have surprised him. 

And after all, wasn't he looking upon something far too unbelievable at this very moment?

"What is it?" said the Beast.

Gaston realised he was staring at it. Not in awe (lord forbid), but with that same strange sense of unease he felt about the rest of the forest. Natural as it was to keep his guard up as a hunter, there was something within this realm he knew he'd never be able to hunt down and kill, or else not before it might kill him first...

"Nothing," he shook his head quickly. "But I intend to find out where I've been put, and get the hell out of here."

It was paranoia and confusion disturbing his thoughts, nothing more. He'd had a big fall, and his head had been jarred into some temporary disorientation, that was all.

He looked the Beast up and down once again, debating uselessly about if he could take it down in that moment. His hands balled into tight fists of unconscious tension, just at the thought of it.

"I intend to do the same," the Beast nodded. The fierce edge to it's voice cooled slightly.

It wasn't this that made Gaston hold off, and consider that he might kill the creature at some other time. He needed weapons and the element of surprise for that. But as he turned away, allowing his defences to drop momentarily in front of the Beast, he wondered why it had not attacked him first within the castle, or even now, after the fall.

Instead, the Beast stalked slowly after him, like a predator biding it's time.

Gaston pulled a face, trying to ignore the anxious pound in his chest. Somehow, ludicrously, it seemed that the hunter had actually become the hunted.

It was a real fall from grace.

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Beast followed the hunter at a fair distance, not trusting his movements; the way he crept and stalked, broke through interfering trees and bushes and trampled flowers with an unusual combination of brutishness and quiet ease.

Everything about the human was imposing and self-assured, there was nothing about him that told Beast that he might be afraid, even considering their current situation. In any other person it might have been admirable, but Beast had learnt that in the wrong hands this was a dangerous trait, and the hunter was the wrong hands and everything else besides.

Occasionally, Beast reached to his back, trying to trace where the knife wound should have been, trying to recall why it wasn't even there anymore. His mind and memory were a fog, accompanied by a dense headache. All he could really focus on was Belle.

Belle. Her name was like a distant memory which he needed to keep a hold of, lest he forget.

It was worrying. How could he even begin to forget her? The one who had taught him so much, and had treated him so kindly? How could she and everything about his home, the castle, somehow be slipping from his grasp like this?

He looked resolutely ahead, and was alarmed to find the hunter had disappeared from sight. Immediately on the defensive, he looked wildly around, expecting a surprise attack at the last second.

The knife, which was concealed within his belt, was a small comfort. And if he recalled, the hunter had none of his weapons anymore. Small mercies.

Parting through some thick bushes, he saw a flash of red, and then the hunter was in his sight once again. He was kneeling down, looking at something on the ground, but was too far away for Beast to know what it might be. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, in truth.

He wove easily though the glade, taking a short moment to absorb the situation once again. As surreal as it was, and as certain as he'd been that he was dead, there was something alive and electric about this forest. It wasn't like any he'd ever known before, not that he'd ever ventured much farther than his own in the past. But still, he knew enough to feel that it was different.

"Are you following me, Beast?"

Beast prickled with the accusatory words. The hunter was looking back at him with a suspicious and snarling face.

"Get out of my sight, Beast, before I kill you."

Beast baulked at the words. He had to hand it to the human, though. He had some nerve.

The hunter seemed to catch his amused look, and he became angrier.

"What? Don't you think I can? I did it once before, I can kill you again, you know."

"I don't doubt you'd try," Beast said grimly, knowing it was the truth.

As he got closer, close enough, he could see the pure and unbridled rage glittering in the hunter's eyes, so reminiscent of their fight at the castle.

The hunter growled. "Is it not enough you'd dare challenge me for the woman I love? Now you'd question my skills as a hunter too?" as he spoke he lifted an arm up, tensed with muscle; revealing a long and sharply pointed stick. So that was what he'd been kneeling next to.

Beast took an unconscious step backwards, ignoring everything but the hunter's words.

"It is for Belle to decide who she loves," he said, trying to be plaintive about it. "I never intended anyone else to become involved in this."

The hunter shook his head, as if Beast had spoken a riddle.

"You lie. You bewitched her!" he raised his arm up some more, and started to approach the Beast, his face darkening. "As if she'd fall for such a hideous creature-"

Beast managed to dodge the first attack; the hunter was fast, as Beast had recently learnt, but Beast had size and strength on his side, and even though he missed snatching the stick away, he easily grabbed the hunter's wrist, wrenching him back.

Even so, the hunter was strong and apparently determined. He kicked out a heavy-booted leg, enough for Beast to lose some hold on the human. Seeing his chance, the hunter pounced, grappling on top of Beast, raising the stick high above his head-

Beast kicked him sharply back, before following through. He pinned the hunter up against a gnarled tree trunk.

For just a second, he thought that he might snap the human's neck. It would have been so easy...

The hunter dropped the stick, and made a choked sound. His hands clawed at Beast's paws, and his eyes fluttered.

Beast leaned into him, his own rage reaching a plateau.

"You are nothing to me. I should kill you now."

He dropped the hunter unceremoniously. He slid down the tree trunk, holding his neck, coughing and gasping.

Beast turned away, not wanted to see, for whatever reason. Perhaps something like regret stabbed at him, ironically. His temper had always gotten the better of him, after all.

"Damn you..." the hunter's voice sounded weaker, but it didn't detract from the edge of loathing that still resided within it. Beast was sure, as he turned back to face him, that the human would try to kill him again.

But the hunter was looking up at him with an anguished face, and it wasn't because of the attack, Beast knew.

"Why would she...why would she love such a beast as you...before me?" there was genuine confusion there, marking his words.

It made Beast forget his anger, and it was only because, as strange as it was, the hunter's petulance was so familiar to him. He could suddenly see blue eyes mirroring the same confusion in his own; in years long since passed, before he'd ever become a beast.

What a terrible realisation it was.

He stared at the hunter, reluctantly pitiful. Then he offered a paw, to help him up.

The hunter looked at it in complete contempt.

"Leave me alone, Beast," he spat the words, twisting his head away, as if he'd been truly humiliated.

Beast wavered in the moment, some small part of him stubborn enough to argue. But the hunter seemed to be even more bull-headed, and Beast was learning there was no use in reasoning with that. He shrugged.

"I would enjoy leaving you very well alone. But since you keep insisting on trying to kill me, I have no other choice but to keep you in my sight."

The hunter blinked at him, as if he'd been startled by the words. Then he laughed bitterly.

"Then why not kill me yourself?" there was a cruel taunt in his eyes. "Finish what you started, Beast!"

"I am tempted," Beast said, and shook his head. "Perhaps it will come to that, if we carry on like this."

The hunter continued to stare at him, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to scan for deception, or else any other sort of lie. When it seemed like he hadn't found what he was searching for, he made a sound of frustration, exhaling deeply.

He rubbed a hand to his temples.

"What use is prey that won't give a good fight? Pathetic."

There was a resigned note in his voice; the first time Beast had heard anything resembling proper... not weakness, but perhaps something like vulnerability, in the human.

It eased him enough to vaguely smirk in his direction.

"Now we're on the same page, I suppose."

The hunter gave him a bleak look. "I doubt that very much, Beast."

"We both want to get out of this place, don't we?"

"...well, yes," the hunter spoke through his teeth, as if the admittance might kill him. "...I suppose so."

He stood up, and his expression flickered, not entirely hateful, as he started walking ahead again. He pushed through tree branches and shrubs like they were nothing at all.

Beast stared after him for a short moment, and wondered if he'd just shared a somewhat civil exchange with the hunter.

The idea was as surreal as the situation itself.

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The forest was darkening, in turn reminding Gaston of how tired he was. He'd been walking at an adamant march for much of the day, something to match his indignant mood. But even he couldn't remain furious forever, at least not without a good meal and some sleep.

He peered behind him, anxious for a short second when he couldn't see the Beast. A moment later it appeared, pushing through some bushes with a grunt. It was getting harder to see against the dark of the forest, and Gaston was beginning to feel like the prey again, as much as he hated to admit it.

He consoled himself with the memory that the creature was apparently too soft hearted to kill him (more fool it, Gaston supposed). But perhaps it would still take him unawares, especially if it became too hungry. It was inevitable. Being an animal, it would give in to it's instincts sooner or later, Gaston knew it. It was only a matter of time.

And time was all he had.

Gaston stared up through the thick blanket of treetops, trying to catch a scrap of the dark night sky. It was clouded, covering up all the moon and stars, and the wind around him had become an iced chill. As odd as it seemed, it was almost as if the seasons had shifted within a single day from summer to winter.

He'd spent much of the day trying to figure out how he would kill the Beast. His earlier attempt had been a mistake; acting in anger was obviously not a good idea. He needed a better plan, and he'd made up his mind at last; night time would be the time to do it. The Beast would have to sleep eventually, and Gaston could use the darkness to his advantage, and launch a surprise attack. It'd be a quick and easy job.

Gaston didn't dwell on the rather ignoble side of it. It was a matter of survival, his own protection...

"Why have you stopped?" the Beast's deep voice was close, and Gaston staggered, before turning to glare at the larger shadow.

"Don't creep up on me," he scowled.

"Did you see something?" the Beast asked, ignoring him.

"No...I was just..." Gaston hesitated. His legs were aching in a tired protest, and yet the Beast continued to stride forward as if it could walk endlessly, perhaps into forever. "I thought I saw something," he amended, and pressed after the Beast, determined to keep up.

The Beast made a sound like intrigue, but didn't say anything else.

Gaston was glad. He wasn't sure he could combat communicating with the Beast along with keeping up a good pace too. He was as fit and healthy as the next person (far fitter, actually), but he knew very well (and reluctantly could concede) that this creature was physically much more capable than himself.

The thought brewed up some familiar resentment, and he glared at the Beast's back, wondering about all the possible reasons Belle preferred this monster. It was still too horrific to think about very deeply. Like something was pulling his beaten ego off the floor, just to give it another sound beating.

He stumbled again, angry thoughts distracting him, and then found the Beast standing in front of him, a clawed hand catching his arm before he fell.

"We should rest," the Beast said. It was more an order than a suggestion, and Gaston resented it even more.

He pulled his arm roughly out of the Beast's grip.

"I don't need to rest, Beast."

"It's late," Beast said, as if he hadn't heard him. "Perhaps this will be a safe place to sleep."

Gaston watched, still silently fuming, as the Beast examined the small clearing they'd found themselves in with a sniff of his nose and pricked ears. He looked more animal in this stance than Gaston had ever seen him before. His hands twitched, an automatic urge to reach for a weapon, to fell his target.

The Beast turned back to Gaston. "I can't smell any threat, but then again the wind is confusing. It keeps altering direction."

Gaston snorted. "Don't you think I'm aware of that? I am a hunter."

"Then maybe you can judge it better," the Beast suggested.

"Maybe I can," Gaston glared, and stomped over to a nearby tree, and examined it.

In truth, he wasn't sure what he was even looking for anymore. Since entering the forest, his natural sense of prowess as a hunter had been thrown off, and besides all of that he was still entirely on edge with the Beast, who was a very real threat himself.

It was difficult to concentrate on anything else.

He turned back to the Beast, who had already settled down as if he might fall asleep very soon. His cape swished against the wind, and as he yawned his fanged teeth gleamed brilliantly in the dark. Gaston's heart trembled in his chest at the sight of it.

He leaned uneasily back against the tree, folding his arms against a chill which was far less to do with the wind.

"I'll keep watch," he said, when the Beast offered him a questioning look.

The Beast grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'd feel far safer looking out for myself. Go to sleep."

Gaston frowned, wanting to protest, but he could hardly fault the Beast's perceptive nature.

They watched each other for a while, and then the Beast shut his eyes.

Gaston sank down onto the ground. He rested his head back against the tree, promising himself he wouldn't fall asleep, even as his eyes began to droop.

8

The bright light of morning was obnoxious, and only told Gaston that he'd failed in his chance to rid himself of the Beast. Again. He stretched out his stiffening joints, and took in the deserted clearing, before noticing the Beast was a little way ahead.

Standing up, he instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn't there, and then breathed out an annoyed sigh.

He caught up to the Beast, who offered him a curt nod of acknowledgement.

Gaston cleared his throat.

"Was it cold last night? Or was I imagining it?"

"It was cold," the Beast confirmed.

Gaston rolled his eyes. "Makes little sense to me."

"I believe this is an enchanted forest," the Beast said, as if it were a reasonable explanation.

Gaston blinked up at him, wanting to be dismissive of the ridiculous idea, but at the same time he couldn't really argue it either. How frustrating.

"Why would you think that, Beast?" he pretended to humour him anyway.

"Well," the Beast shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? We should both be dead, and yet we're not. Now we're in a forest that neither of us has been in before in our entire lives, and the way the weather changed last night...it was very strange."

Gaston shook his head. "You speak as stupid as I'd expect a simple beast to speak."

The Beast spared him an irritated glance. "This isn't like any normal forest. Surely you can sense that?"

"No, I can't," Gaston said, refusing to admit anything to the contrary. "Who could believe such nonsense as an enchanted forest, anyway?"

"You believe in me, talking to you right now."

"Yes, because you're standing here, right now. You exist. As much as I hate to admit it. It's not difficult to believe that."

"Would you have believed I exist if you hadn't have seen me with your own eyes?"

"Of course I wouldn't," Gaston had no problem admitting that. "Any sane person wouldn't."

"I can understand that. I wouldn't have believed it either."

Gaston frowned at him, his curiosity somehow peaked.

"How...how does a beast like you even come to exist, anyway?"

"It is a complicated story. I'm not sure you'd appreciate it."

Gaston took the bait with a game sneer. "Try me."

The Beast hesitated, and looked at Gaston doubtfully.

"If you must know, I was cursed."

Gaston stared at him, trying to detect the falter in his words or expression. But he looked so serious, and for a second Gaston could have believed him.

Only a second, though.

He laughed. "Brilliant, Beast. You almost had me, there."

The Beast huffed.

"I wouldn't have expected someone like you to believe it. You are very narrow minded."

"Please. Call it sane."

"I'd call you a great many things, none of which are particularly flattering to your person."

Gaston halted in his tracks, his rage silent but intense, before he managed to calm himself.

He needed to keep control over the situation, and angle it in a way he'd lure out difficult prey, or a prize, even. This was delicate, and maybe if he could put across any sort of emotion besides what he was currently feeling, he might gain the upper hand. He'd have to try and win the Beast over a bit, pull down his guard...

He forced something like a smile on his face, though it felt terrible to do it.

"Call me anything you want. At least I'm not a beast," he said, and mentally kicked himself for forgetting that he was supposed to say something amiable too.

The Beast pulled a face, but didn't seemed particularly offended by the remark. The corners of the creature's mouth even pulled up a little, like he might be amused.

"I guess you're right there, hunter."

Gaston started to correct him, a petulant urge to tell the Beast his actual name (hadn't the Beast caught it and remembered it back at the castle? It was oddly insulting to learn he might not), but he bit his tongue and stopped himself. It hardly mattered what the Beast called him, or thought of him, for that matter.

"I'm always right," he said instead, and pushed through some more shrubbery so that he might take the lead again.

"Do you know where we're going?" the Beast asked.

"I know where I'm going," Gaston told him, and then tried to level his voice again. He was getting irritated too easily. "I don't know what your plan is."

"Plan? I can't say I've spared much thought for one. Considering all that's already happened."

"Hmm?" Gaston peered up, over a large shrub. He thought he could hear a familiar sound, not too far off. He pressed ahead, toward it. "What're you talking about?"

"Well, I suppose after all the years within the castle," Beast said, and sounded contemplative. " I'd almost forgotten what it was like to fear death again, never mind try to survive or avoid it."

Gaston forgot his goal for a moment, the softness in the Beast's voice somehow forcing him to take notice. He stopped, turning his head to know the Beast's wry expression.

Gaston raised a brow at it.

"Why not just be glad you're alive, Beast."

He wasn't offering up anything like consolation, if anything the Beast's reflective nature was annoying. Why couldn't the Beast just be? Gaston thought he'd rather contend with a savage and murderous creature, than this sad shadow of one. At least he'd know better how to act around that.

"I am glad. And grateful, to know that I might see Belle again..." the Beast trailed off, as though knowing he'd hit a sore point.

Gaston grimaced, unable to help himself. His hands pointlessly flexed for that invisible weapon again. If he were feeling any more confident, he'd have taken the Beast on with his bare hands.

As it was, he quickly turned away again, trying to keep focus on a better plan. He'd get his chance, he just needed to be patient...

The sound he'd been trying to decipher suddenly became clear and then revealed itself. A beautiful gushing river through the parting trees ahead of them, and Gaston suddenly realised how thirsty he was.

He ran the rest of the way, ignoring the scratch of trees and plants against his arms, and dropped down at the edge of the waters, scooping it up and gulping it down with the greatest sense of relief. He forgot his intense hate for the Beast, and the anxiety that followed after it, for just a little while.

He caught his rippling reflection in the water with some surprise. He didn't look terrible, but he did look tired, and his eyes were pale. Gaston quickly splashed water over his face, then turned to see the Beast's profile. He was cupping water rather daintily in huge paws, and drinking in the same manner as a person. It was kind of amusing.

The Beast seemed to sense his staring, and looked at him guardedly.

"Don't mind me," Gaston said, and combed a hand quickly through his hair.

He noticed the Beast's cape was discarded on the riverbank, along with his belt. Trying not to look conspicuous about it, Gaston examined the small pile a bit closer. He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought the knife was still there.

At the river's edge, the Beast had entirely rid himself of his clothes, and somehow the change made Gaston's current thoughts more acceptable. Now his prey truly was a beast, with no human reminder of whatever curse he might've had put on him (whatever nonsense that was). Gaston watched with growing intent as the Beast dipped it's paws slowly into the river, seeming to test the temperature, before fully submerging into it.

"What're you doing?" Gaston heard himself ask.

"Bathing?" the Beast said, with an incredulous look.

Gaston considered the water. He might be able to make a grab for the knife now, but all it would take was a quick turn of the head, and he'd be caught. Perhaps there was another way, though. He searched the ground, and then found and curled his fist round a sharp rock.

All he really had to do was knock the Beast out, and the river would take care of the rest.

Smiling privately, Gaston made his mind up. It would be easy; just one powerful throw (of which he was more than capable of) and the Beast would be out like a light. It'd be quick and clean, no blood on his hands. Not that it'd ever bothered him before.

Somehow, his hands were shaking slightly though.

He gripped the rock tighter, and curved his arm back, waiting for the Beast to turn properly away from him. The Beast ducked it's head under the gentle current, emerging with soaked fur covering his eyes. Gaston found himself, strangely, almost endeared by the sight.

His grip on the rock loosened just a fraction, and his aim faltered.

The Beast dove under the water again, and Gaston thought about throwing the rock at the spot he'd disappeared under, so he might not see the impact. Strange that he was even deliberating it. He pressed a hand shortly to his head, the remnants of a headache somehow coming back with a vengeance. His skin was burning, like fire.

He stumbled toward the water, dropping the rock and forgetting it's purpose as he sank to his knees. He felt suddenly strange, and weak, as if a sickness had caught him unaware. He swallowed back a nauseous feeling, and tried to focus on the Beast again, wherever he was. If only he could keep focus on that...

"Are you alright?" the Beast crawled out of the river with an odd gracefulness, and shook itself with vigour, beads of water spraying close to Gaston. Then it stood on it's hind legs, almost visibly transforming into something far more human again.

Gaston watched, feeling useless, as the Beast gathered up it's clothes, tucking the knife back into it's belt.

Another missed opportunity. At least the sick feeling had passed though.

"You look pale," the Beast spoke again, shaking off the rest of the water. "Maybe you should rest some more."

Gaston stood up, if only to prove the Beast wrong, as petty as it was. "What? You're concerned for me now, Beast?" he sniped. "How touching."

"Not really. It's just an observation."

Gaston clenched his teeth. He hated how calm and detached the creature seemed to be, as if Gaston was only some insignificant annoyance he'd be glad to be rid of. Well, the feeling was mutual. He looked around the grassy bank, spying the sharp rock he'd dropped. He barely deliberated on it, before scooping it back up.

Even though his anger made him less precise, his aim was still true. He hit the Beast hard in the side of the head.

The creature let out a roar of pain, falling to it's front paws and bowing it's head. Gaston saw his opportunity, and this time he wouldn't miss it. He jumped the Beast from behind, hooking one arm round it's neck, the other scrambling against cloth, trying to find the knife.

The Beast roared again, seeming to know his intention, and backed up onto it's hind legs, paw curling round to try and grab a hold of Gaston.

Gaston clung on, as his life certainly did depend on it, and finally his fingers locked around sharp metal. He pulled the knife free of the Beast's belt with a moment's triumph, before he felt claws digging into his shoulder blades, gripping and trying to pull him off.

Another cry, but this one did not leave the Beast's mouth. Gaston felt the full force of something boxing against the side of his head, and then the rush of heat reaching it, before he was moving through the air and then falling into the river.

The water was cool but barely noticeable. The ringing heat against his ear was stronger, and unbearable. Whatever natural instinct told him to swim was not working; his legs were dead weights and his arms were failing to rise above the water.

As he sunk, into the dark greenish depths below, he took small satisfaction in seeing the knife fall from his hand, deeper still. At least he'd taken something back from the Beast, in the end.

He blinked up, and saw a silhouette rippling abstractedly above the waters, before his vision blurred and finally failed him.

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Beast turned away with a snarl, and took a few long steps before his abused conscience caught up with him.

He looked over his shoulder, where the river had become still and his adversary was finally defeated. It wasn't satisfying, but it was actually some relief.

But that was what made it more complicated.

He wasn't going to take the easy way out this time. And, if nothing else, he wanted to teach the wretched human a lesson, whether it fell on deaf ears or not.

Mind made up, he ran and jumped into the river, diving down in time to see the hunter's unconscious body slowly sinking below. He hooked an arm easily round the human's waist, and broke the surface with him in hold, dragging him back up to the bank.

The hunter was heavy with muscle, and Beast grunted as he pulled him properly onto the grass, rolling him on his back. There, he pressed a paw on a sodden chest, pushing it down with some experimental force.

The hunter responded with a choked cough, curling onto his side and panting hard. Beast sat back, wondering if he should bother feeling anything like concern.

At best, this man was a self-important oaf, at worst a cruel monster.

And still Beast could not bring himself to let him die.

The hunter coughed again, apparently struggling to breathe very well. Beast pulled him upright, and water pooled from the hunter's mouth, before he opened his eyes. He focused on Beast in some confusion.

"What is..." he spoke hoarsely. "...am I in hell again?"

Despite himself, Beast chuckled. "It might well be, for you," an ominous threat never hurt, either.

The hunter looked suitably put out by the words, and he pushed away from Beast's hold.

"Why're...why're you still here?" he said faintly. "Why're you still bothering me?"

"Bothering you? I just saved your sorry life."

"I don't..." the hunter took a needed breath, and Beast noticed the way his limbs quivered, as he tried to haul himself up. "I don't understand...you wretched creature..." he made an admirable attempt at standing up, but Beast knew he wasn't going to make it.

He caught the fainted hunter against his chest, and then, with an agitated grunt, slung him the rest of the way over his shoulder.

Squinting against the mid-afternoon sunlight, he started to walk again.

8

He walked along the edge of the river, entirely unsure of his destination or where he might be headed. He'd followed the hunter only out of necessity before, since he didn't trust turning his back on him for a moment, but at least the hunter had seemed to have some idea about where he was going.

He shifted the dead weight of the human in question against his shoulder, and found himself slowing to a stop, as exhaustion began to set in. Besides that, the forest was suddenly very warm again; a dense heat, filling the air with the scent of sweet wild flowers.

As Beast dropped him against a tree,  the hunter woke up; eyes wide and bright with fear. He curved right back against the tree trunk, as far out of reach of the Beast at he could possibly get.

Beast raised a paw, in what he hoped was a calming motion. "Don't panic. I'm not going to kill you or anything."

The hunter seemed to compose himself after a few unsteady breathes, but his gaze was very confused.

"...why not?"

Beast tipped his head. "Because I don't want to? Surprising, isn't it?"

The hunter folded his arms and turned his head away. "Hmph. By all rights, your kind should be extinct."

"My kind?" Beast mused. "Ah. So you still don't believe I was cursed?"

"Of course I don't!"

"Even though I speak and act as a human-"

"-that is questionable."

"And you saw for yourself the enchanted furniture in the castle," Beast ignored him. "You'd still deny it?"

"Yes," the hunter snapped. "I mean..." his voice faltered. "look, I don't have time for this nonsense. I just need to get out of here, and rid myself of the sight of you-" he started to stand up.

"I wouldn't do that-"

The hunter swatted Beast's outstretched paw away as he straightened. It was an obvious mistake.

He teetered and swayed, groaning faintly as he started to fall.

Beast rolled his eyes, catching him easily.

"Stubborn stupid creature," he muttered, slowly lowering him back against the tree. "You are still weak."

"I am not weak," the hunter's eyes widened. He looked truly scandalised by the idea, despite his near black-out.

"I didn't mean it like that," Beast said, and found himself struggling to hide a smirk. The hunter was so animated and indignant, so determined, all at the same time. It was entertaining, on some almost warped level.

Beast had never known another human to be quite so sure of himself as the hunter, even in the most dire situation. Perhaps it wasn't an entirely terrible thing to be.

"What?" the hunter snapped, seeming to catch his staring. "What are you going to mock me about this time?"

"It was never my intention to mock you," Beast shook his head. "You take everything I do the wrong way."

"Oh? And how else should I take you? Everything about you is...wrong."

Beast flinched at the words, and was unable to bite back his temper this time.

"Ungrateful human. Is it any wonder Belle did not fall for you?"

The hunter looked stung by the comment, and Beast braced himself for fight, expecting if not fists then at least a torrent of angry curses.

Neither came, and instead the hunter made a huffing sound, arms folded tight enough that his muscles seemed to tense, and his face becoming a harsh frown that marred his otherwise handsome features.

Beast cringed at the slipped private admittance, even if it was true.

"Here," he cleared his throat, and pulled a handful of berries out of his shirt pocket.

He'd plucked them as he'd walked along, not exactly sure if they were poisonous or not, but they'd tasted alright, and at this point he was willing to risk it. He knew that the hunter must be in dire need of something to eat too.

The hunter stared at his berry-filled paw with only a flash of suspicion, before grabbing a few and swallowing them quicker than Beast could have thought possible. He pulled the rest from his pocket, and the hunter snatched them up too.

"Hungry, were you?" he asked, sarcastically.

"Mm..." the hunter wiped a hand roughly over his mouth, still full with berries. He swallowed hard, and then looked at Beast with an apprehensive face. "Were they poisonous?"

"If they were, we're both doomed now."

The hunter seemed somewhat satisfied with the answer, and then looked at him with a cautious face. He spoke tentatively;

"Why did you pull me back out of the river?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Beast shrugged. It wasn't a lie.

He watched with interest the way the hunter dragged a hand down his face, apparently agitated by the answer.

"But I tried to kill you. Again."

"Maybe I just enjoy watching you suffer through all of this too much," Beast said. "Besides, I'm not a murderer."

"More fool you then," but the hunter's tone was more resigned than it was angry. He tilted his head back against the tree, and closed his eyes for some long seconds. "Why must you complicate a simple situation, Beast?"

Beast opened his mouth to question him, not really understanding, but then thought better of it. Besides that, his stomach made another rumbling sound, louder than the last.

The hunter opened his eyes, a reluctant smirk reaching his lips.

"Hungry?"

Beast coughed, somehow embarrassed. "I'll find some more berries-"

The hunter snorted. "Berries? They're hardly sustainable. We need something bigger."

"But there isn't anything else."

It seemed to be true; so far as either of them had walked, there hadn't been the scent or sound of another creature in the forest. Or at least, none that Beast could detect. The hunter was shaking his head though, as if he'd told a stupid joke.

"Don't be simple, Beast. This is a forest. Wild game all around us!" his tone became excited, and with it he started to stand up again. Beast followed him, paw hovering in case he might teeter, but the hunter seemed alright.

"'Game'?" Beast repeated, unsure if he liked the wording.

"Yes. Fowl, rabbits, deer. They're just hiding from us. And who could blame them," he eyed Beast rather disdainfully. "You're not exactly nice to look at, you know."

Beast bristled. "That's all well and good, but you don't have any weapons."

The hunter did not look deterred.

"I'm resourceful too, you know," in demonstration, he pulled a tree branch down, snapping it easily in his hands. "we can make use of what we have in the forest, and make weapons. The forest itself is full of tracks too, if you only look for them..."

The hunter trailed off, and then became silent, as if he'd caught himself doing something unspeakably embarrassing. He cleared his throat, and then levelled the Beast with a careful look.

"Listen, Beast...I'm assuming you know how to hunt? Since you are a...a beast."

Beast looked between the hunter and ground, realising he'd been caught out by a potentially humiliating question.

"...truthfully? I am not much of a hunter."

The hunter stared at him. "...but...you're a beast," he looked incredulous.

"So? Like I said, I'm not your usual beast."

The hunter's shock fell away and his mouth quivered. He started to laugh.

It wasn't an entirely cruel laugh though, not like the one Beast recalled back at the castle. It was surprised and genuine, as if the hunter had truly been caught off guard by the revelation, and the Beast found he couldn't blame him for it.

It probably did sound ridiculous, to anyone else.

"Is this the burden of a so-called cursed beast, then?" the hunter wondered. "a creature so powerful and mighty, and yet he can't even take down a small rabbit?" he rolled his eyes. "I suppose it makes sense, with your entire 'no killing' policy."

Beast allowed the hunter a few more seconds of indulgent laughter, and then;

"If you must know, I hunted many times...before..." he tailed off, not sure how much he really cared to tell the human.

"So what became of you? Or did you just forget?"

"I suppose I did...I mean, before the curse, hunting was normal. Now though, to hunt is dangerous...it makes me...more animal."

"But you are an animal. Why deny your instincts?"

"It's not for you to understand," Beast didn't think he had the patience to explain it to him anyway. He'd already deduced that the hunter was simple-minded, and more than that he wasn't very sympathetic.

"Very well," the hunter said after a moment, seeming to appraise the Beast and quickly forgetting his amusement. "Then I suppose you can follow after me, but be quiet about it."

He didn't wait, already walking with those big strides of his; clearly recovered well enough after his latest near-death encounter. The Beast privately sort of admired his endurance, and trailed after him through the trees.

The sun was burning down on them both, before the hunter stopped at a small clearing. His eyes settled on the ground, which didn't seem to show anything of particular importance. Beast sniffed the air, wondering if he could catch something, but all he'd detected so far was the overpowering scent of wild flowers.

The hunter knelt down, then picked up some droppings with a triumphant face. His spoke barely above a whisper, but he sounded excited; "See, Beast. We have a lead, right here."

Beast bent down, scrunching his nose up at the sight of it.

The hunter raised a brow at him. "You see now why I wear the gloves."

He stood up, face set in determination once again, and this time Beast held back, having a good idea that their prey might be nearby. Besides that, he was rather fascinated, even taken, by the way the hunter moved.

He was big and full of muscle, for sure, but the way he stalked and held himself was contrary to all of that, and really there was nothing brutish about the way he pressed a calculated hand against a tree trunk, or fixed the toe of his boot so precisely into the grass. It was nuanced, in a way that shouldn't have been.

Even more surprising was the hunter's face; his expression having resolved to complete concentration and a stillness that seemed only to have been created by years of discipline and experience.

Beast had never doubted that the hunter was an experienced one, but he'd also never known nor taken into account the effort and actual talent that might go into that experience first hand. Even before, as a human, he couldn't appreciate or even remember...

The hunter pressed a finger to his lips, and then indicated a bush a few yards from them both. He spoke softly;

"It's here. You flush the animal out, and I'll catch it," he left no room for debate, his stance crouched, like that of the waiting predator he was.

Beast did not pretend he had any technique like that; he ran at the bush, growling at it for good measure.

A dart of brown fur flew out the bush, almost too fast for Beast to properly see what it was.

The hunter jumped, catching the creature in a motion just as quick, as though he'd anticipated the move so many times before (he surely had). There was a brief struggle and then a squeak, and Beast knew that it was dead.

The hunter looked the rabbit over in his gloved hand, and then glanced back up at the Beast. There was something amiable vying to reach his features, and eventually he seemed to succumb to it;

"Not bad, Beast. It's only small game, but it'll do for now."

Beast smiled, surprising himself with his own odd sense of pride. Of all things to feel so flattered about. It was kind of terrible.

His stomach grumbled again, and the hunter started to grin.

"Another one should do it, then we have a decent meal between us."

"Another?"

"Well, of course," the hunter looked at him strangely. "You think I'm going to share one measly rabbit with a beast like you?"

8

The hunter caught another two rabbits before the sun was starting to fade away, and the familiar chill of the forest night was returning to them.

Beast watched from a distance, only intruding on the hunt itself when the hunter asked him to (which happened a couple of times, when he needed the Beast to veer something in his direction). Otherwise, he sat against a canopy of green, wondering how it was that he'd found himself watching his own would-be killer killing things for the both of them. It was an odd scenario.

They sat down in a small forest clearing, and Beast watched as the hunter started a fire with a patience he shouldn't have possessed.

They ate in silence, both too hungry to deal with conversation or manners. It suited Beast just fine, and it was nice just to eat and not worry too much about trying to be civil about it.

He chanced a look at the human, and their eyes locked for a few seconds. In it, Beast traced the ever-present wariness on the hunter's face, like he might never let his guard down, no matter what the Beast said or did.

"It would have been easier to skin," the hunter said, gesturing to the rabbit meat, "if I had a knife." 

"Hm, yeah. If only you hadn't tried to kill me with it, we might still have one."

The hunter's face might've coloured up, although Beast could hardly be sure if it was just the flickering firelight. Either way, he noticed the unease crossing the human's face again. He realised he was getting to know and recognise his more subtle faces, even if he hadn't planned to.

Or even the want to ease the hunter's nerves.

"I...thank you for getting our dinner tonight. I never knew you could do all of...this."

The hunter frowned. "I suppose Belle hasn't been very flattering in her stories about me."

Beast thought about it. "Um. No. Actually...I don't think she ever mentioned you."

The hunter looked surprised, but in a different sort of way, like he hadn't meant to reveal it to Beast.

"..huh. Is that so?" he said slowly.

The pause between them was not exactly tense, but it was awkward, and Beast found he didn't enjoy the way the human squirmed.

"If it helps, since she never mentioned you, she never said anything bad about you either, hunter."

The human pulled a face.

"Please. My name is Gaston. Not 'Hunter'."

"Gaston," Beast repeated the word, experimentally. "Very well."

The hunter...Gaston, shook his head in some irritation.

"I should have figured Belle hadn't mentioned me, when you can't even call me by my name."

"I wouldn't take it so personally. Belle wasn't at my castle that long."

"But long enough to fall in love with you."

Beast looked to the side, the silence telling and wrought between them.  "...I don't really know how she feels about me. I guess we wait and see, assuming I ever see her again."

Gaston stared at him, his face giving nothing away. Then he turned, rolling onto his side, away from Beast.

"Good night," he said, abruptly.

Beast watched the human's back for a few minutes, seeing it become clearer as the flames of the fire started to die down. The chill of the forest night was becoming more pronounced.

By the time Beast had finally closed his eyes, falling into restless sleep, the fire was nothing but a glowing pile of ash.

88

88

Chapter Text

88

88

Gaston was not tired, even as he closed his eyes and feigned sleep. At least, his mind was not tired, even if his body currently protested otherwise.

There was that dim ringing in his ear, courtesy of the Beast's paw and his near fate in the river. Then there was another headache, which was more to do with his almost permanent state of confusion in these last few hours.

He wondered, constantly, why the Beast had not yet killed him, or else left him to die. It was annoying in so far that it presented a new problem, and activated a fairly useless part of Gaston's make-up; his conscience.

He hadn't thought he could feel anything close to that for such a creature, and his want to do something he thought he was so sure of was diminishing. He'd never experienced such uncertainty before in his life.

It was actually frightening.

He tossed over, pulling his cape further across his shoulders, protecting himself against the cold air. The Beast lay opposite him; it's huge form almost black against the night. It breathed slowly and unevenly, as if it might be having an unsettling dream.

It was absurd in itself. Beasts did not dream. Or did they?

Gaston realised he had no idea anymore.

He breathed out another in a long line of frustrated sighs, wondering how his mind had found itself thinking on such pointless things.

"Lord help me..." he muttered, and sat up, rushing a hand through his tangled hair. He thought he could run a marathon, if only to escape his thoughts. He didn't do well with thoughts at the best of times.

He glanced properly over at the Beast again, narrowing his eyes to better see the details of it's thick pelt and the way even it's sleep-filled breath promised strength beyond anything Gaston could ever hope to be.

It was still dangerous, it could still kill him. And...wasn't it night time he was supposed to finish it?

He looked bleakly up at the dark sky, half expecting something to answer his quiet turmoil. Of course nothing did, and he hovered in indecision once again.

Was it this feeling that had lured Belle into caring about the Beast? Did the Beast have this sense of humanity about him that would eventually bewitch himself in the same way it had caught her?

Gaston tried to remember; though the entire night at the castle had been a blur of chants and rainwater and an anger he'd never known before.

He did recall Belle's face, the way she'd looked into the enchanted mirror that night. He'd never forget that...

Gaston set his jaw, indecision turning back into anger. It was almost a comfort, familiar, a feeling of regaining his sanity, even. Yes, now he could think clearly again. He knew what he had to do...

Kill the Beast...

He crept close to the sleeping form of the Beast, looking about the ground for something he might use against it.

There was the stretch of a tree branch lying across from him, that hadn't been used to fuel the fire earlier.

He picked it up with hands that trembled more than they should have done. He ignored that, and stood up, raising the branch high above his head.

It was heavy, but his own limbs felt far heavier, as though he might be wading through mud to reach his target. It wasn't just the ache of recent exhaustion anymore, he knew.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the weird hesitation that had settled there.

But it wouldn't leave him.

The decision reached his bones before his mind, and he started to lower his arms.

At the same moment a terrible sound pierced his ears, and he snapped his head back in time to see fangs, fur and snarling teeth rushing toward him.

Gaston fell back, closing his eyes and braced for certain pain.

Instead, came the Beast's familiar and rich roar.

Gaston blinked to see fur flying and wolves falling back with whimpers of surprise.

The Beast stood, wilder than ever;  teeth flashing like knives, fur spiked, and poised on all fours. It stood right across Gaston, so that the wolves might not touch him.

Gaston was frozen, not so much in fear as he was complete shock. His breath baited in his throat, as he waited to see what the wolves or the Beast were going to do next.

Their growls mingled low and deep between each other for what felt an age, before the first wolf made a whining sound, and then backed up. The others; three of them flanking it's sides, followed suite, and then they began to retreat, somewhere back into the forest.

The Beast didn't move for a few long seconds, his eyes trained ahead, as if he thought they were coming back at any moment.

He turned his head round very slowly, to face Gaston.

"Are you alright?" he asked roughly.

Gaston nodded, unable to find his voice for perhaps the first time in his life. He took a breath, and found he could do nothing but stare up at the Beast.

The dangerous shape of the creature seemed to melt into something less intimidating then, but Gaston had already realised it didn't mean to scare him.

It's eyes were easy to read, at such close proximity. They were clear blue and soft.

He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

He swallowed hard, and pulled himself up.

"Let's keep moving," the Beast said. "the wolves will probably return in larger numbers."

It turned away before Gaston could answer, trailing further into the forest.

Gaston nodded anyway, lingering long enough to gather his nerve back together. He looked at the ground, where the tree branch still lay.

He stared at it with a nauseous sensation, and nothing else.

"Hey...wait up," he ran after the Beast.

8

It was still very dark, perhaps only the early hours of the morning, and the close calls of wolves still sounded a near warning every now and then.

"I should have guessed there'd be wolves too," Gaston grumbled. "I should have been more alert..." he stopped, realising he would have been, if not so set on his most dirty goal.

He dared a glance up at the Beast, somehow finding it more difficult to look at him.

The Beast seemed oblivious to it, and walked with the air of a creature that knew it's destination and was confident about it, but never in a cocky way. It was assured, but not overly so.

Gaston envied the way he pulled it off. How could a Beast reflect such human traits, and such rare traits in any human themselves, as it was? It was almost...noble.

"I..." he stumbled over words, his throat felt too tight.

"Hm?" The Beast offered him a sideways glance. "what's wrong?"

"Nothing...I mean...thank you...for protecting me back there."

The words escaped his mouth like water rushing from a dam. An odd relief to get them out, and it didn't even feel like such a stab to his pride. This was new and...different.

He attempted a vague smile, in the Beast's direction, but the Beast was looking ahead of them.

"You're welcome," he said distantly, and then his eyes narrowed, like he'd spotted something.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure. I think it might be a dead end."

Gaston followed the Beast's gaze.

There was a wall of moss and rock set out before them, which seemed to creep up to a height Gaston could not fathom in the dark.

"This is bad," he muttered. "those wolves might have us cornered."

The Beast nodded. "You could be right about that," and then he gestured subtly across his shoulder. "I think we're being followed."

The sharp silhouette of one of the wolves was standing just beyond the shrubs to the Beast's side. It was a fair distance, but still too close for comfort so far as Gaston was concerned. How he ached for a gun right now. A bow and arrow...anything.

"Just keep walking forward," Beast told him, his voice impossibly calm.

"What? You mean toward the dead end? Don't be ridiculous-"

Beast grabbed his arm, but not so hard that it hurt. "Just do it."

It wasn't a threat; more like a plea for cooperation, and Gaston blinked up at the Beast's face, trying to judge if he'd lost his mind or not.

"But-"

"Trust me, just this once," the Beast implored.

Gaston clenched his jaw, unable to find the thread of deception in the Beast's face.

At any other time, in any other life, he would not have listened to the Beast, never mind trusted it. It just wasn't right.

But now everything was different, and the silhouettes of too many wolves were closing in on them, and Gaston did not have his gun, or anything else to protect him. Save for a Beast, of course.

He wanted to laugh at the way the tables had so ironically turned on him in recent hours.

Instead all he could do was swallow down that annoying and familiar wave of nausea, and nod shortly.

"Alright."

He followed after the Beast, who seemed to have developed tunnel vision for their hopeless destination. Gaston could not divert his eyes from the sides, where more shadows were creeping, and the ground was rustling, as each one got a little closer...

He gritted his teeth, fists balling up.

"There, go into that opening," the Beast suddenly hissed, and Gaston felt a paw pushing him forwards, so that he was exposed in the twilight and whatever else was watching him.

Gaston looked frantically about; "where-"

"There," the Beast motioned toward the rocky wall again, and beyond the moss and overgrowth Gaston finally saw the small cavernous hole that resided within it.

He glanced back at the Beast. "We don't know what's in there."

"Would you rather stay out here?" Beast gestured back round, and the shadows were not just shadows anymore. Large shapes of wolves were closing in, their white teeth gleaming, and yellow eyes glittering on their two targets.

For a second time, Gaston begrudgingly realised he'd have to listen to the Beast.

He ran, taking easy steps through the grass, and quite aware that he was at his most vulnerable point. Still, he kept his eyes on the destination, and ducked down instinctively when the snarls became too loud, and he was sure they were right on top of him.

He crouched and crawled into the cavern, grimacing with the effort. It was pretty small, but he scraped through.

Turning back, he found the Beast wasn't far behind him, and now he was scrabbling to get through the entrance too.

Gaston hesitated, in a moment caught between panic and confusion. Then he reached out, grabbing the Beast's thick coat, pulling him toward him.

Even as the Beast staggered in, it's guard didn't let up, and it whirled back round in time to counter the snap of jaws which tried to follow through the entrance.

"Quick...we need something to block the opening," the Beast growled.

Gaston stumbled back, trying to adjust to their new surroundings. He took a breath, and then noticed the large rocks cast around the edges of the cavern. He lifted them without thought, and the Beast seemed to gather the idea with a nod of encouragement.

Gaston piled the rocks up, just beyond the Beast's fierce guard, barely saving himself from a couple of bites along the way. The Beast helped, until the sounds of baying wolves had faded behind the newly formed wall of rock.

The Beast pricked up an ear. "I think they're giving up," he was panting a bit, cold air huffing from his nostrils.

Gaston leaned heavily back against the wall, wiping his brow. "Good riddance."

They stood in a mutual silence of exhaustion for a few minutes, before Gaston started to take in their surroundings properly.

The cavern was larger than he could ever have expected, seeming to extend up and beyond his gaze with the indication of some sort of winding path. There was an illuminating blueish glow that gleamed off the rocks and walls, which provided a surprisingly good source of light. The roof was covered in long and jagged rocks, dripping water off them. Most striking of all was the ground, where there were large puddles of water that seemed to shine silver.

"How odd," the Beast said.

He dipped a tentative paw into one of the puddles, and they both watched it slowly ripple out, creating a sheen of something that almost glittered with the movement. The Beast craned a little more over the puddle, his eyes narrowing.

"What's wrong?" Gaston said, reluctantly intrigued.

"The water. I can't seem to see...never mind," the Beast finished hastily, then looked ahead of them. "I guess we should keep walking."

"Do you expect there's another exit?"

"I don't know. But what other option do we have?"

Gaston looked ruefully back at the makeshift pile of rocks that provided their protection against the wolf problem. He didn't much like the idea of relying on the Beast's sketchy ideas, but then he didn't like the idea of confronting the wolves even more.

The Beast brushed past him, as if the decision had already been made, and he padded on all fours, taking a cautious gait.

"Alright," Gaston muttered, more to himself than the Beast.

He'd never been a very compliant guy, never the sort to take orders from anyone, or even rely on anyone else, so none of this came very naturally to him. It was like swallowing a bad medicine, knowing he'd have to follow the Beast, and trust him some more.

Still, the Beast had saved him. Gaston couldn't shake the fact, no matter what else he told himself.

Maybe he was giving himself too much time to dwell on things he usually wouldn't. Of course he was; he'd never been trapped in a situation like this before in his life, so it made sense.

Gaston breathed a short sigh, the thought easing his mind just a little bit.

He almost bumped into the Beast's rear, when he suddenly stopped.

"What now?" he grumbled.

"...nothing. Just...thought I heard something," the Beast sounded quiet.

Gaston looked around them, his skin prickling with the edges of anxiety. The sharp spears of rocks seemed to loom above their heads, and every now and then he could hear the echoes of water dripping around them. It seemed to get louder and heavier the further they walked.

Through silvery puddles splashing up against his boots, Gaston suddenly noticed the slight limp in the Beast's left hind leg, and then the dark blood oozing from it.

He grimaced. "You're bleeding, Beast."

"It's just a scratch."

Gaston opened his mouth, wanting to dispute that, but then wondered why the point even mattered to him. It didn't, really.

"If you say so," he found himself saying anyway.

"I do say so," the Beast agreed, and sounded like he might be smiling, or something strange like that.

"Well...good," Gaston gritted his teeth. He wanted to be angry, but then realised he didn't have much reason to be. But anger was so good and familiar and wanted. Without it, he felt almost...at a loss.

"Did any of the wolves bite you?" the Beast asked. He didn't sound concerned, more curious.

"No, of course not."

"Hm. I believe you must have the nine lives of a cat, hunter."

"Gaston," Gaston corrected. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's an expression," the Beast explained.

"Well it's completely ridiculous. I'm not a cat."

"No, I mean to say it's a phrase," Beast sounded like he might really be smiling now. "that is used as a sort of comparison, for a lucky person, perhaps. Or unlucky...however you look at this situation."

Gaston shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Beast. You sound like Belle when she talks about her books."

He couldn't help the morose edge that reached his voice when he thought of Belle, and he scolded himself privately for slipping up.

"Ah," the Beast laughed. It was short and like he was recalling a fond memory. "Belle and her books. She does love them, doesn't she?"

"Yes. It's terrible, I know."

"You think so? I think it's wonderful. Someone to share my own books with. It's perfect."

Gaston stared at the Beast's back. "You mean to say...you enjoy them too?"

"Well...some of them."

"What?" Gaston frowned in some confusion. "How does a Beast learn to read?"

"As I told you, it's a long story."

"I dislike stories."

"That doesn't surprise me,"

"Not stories," Gaston corrected himself. "I mean, reading them."

"Hmm. You might not have read the right ones yet. Consider that."

Gaston snorted. "I don't consider anything. I just do."

"Hah. That doesn't shock me too much either. After all that's happened."

Gaston bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Well..." the Beast paused. "I don't mean to offend, but you're quite a...reckless person, aren't you?"

"If by reckless you mean competent, then yes. I suppose I am."

The Beast laughed, and Gaston rolled his eyes, wondering where he was finding the humour in his words. But, if nothing else, the Beast was providing some kind of...distraction. And he was surprising, if Gaston could admit something even vaguely complimentary about the animal.

An educated Beast? How was that even possible?

He thought some more on the supposed "curse", and then how it might have come to be. Surely his own village would have known about a cursed Beast before the attack on the castle? None of it made any sense at all, now that he really thought about it...

"...perhaps Belle would have given you a better chance if you'd have read her stories too? Or took some interest in them."

Gaston snapped back to attention, the Beast's words hurting his already fairly bruised ego.

"Don't presume to offer me any sort of advice, Beast. The very idea of it is laughable, really," then he did try to laugh, but it was weak and bitter.

"I don't mean to be so presumptive," the Beast said. "But-"

"But don't. You might have helped me out a few times, but I don't ask for your help. And I don't especially need it."

There was a pause between them, which Gaston thought might stretch into forever.

"Did you hear me, Beast? I said-"

"Ssh-I-"

The Beast's murmur was interrupted abruptly by a shattering sound, coming from somewhere above.

Gaston sprung on his heels, immediately working on a frightened instinct. He rolled over into one of the silver puddles, and felt a harsh spray of rocks against his arms and back.

He turned back round with a huff, eyes widening at the sight of a large spear-like rock that had landed just between he and the Beast's path.

Now, it was wedged graphically into the Beast's leg.

The Beast scrabbled vainly against the ground, trying to move. He made a soft whining sound, and it seemed to vibrate around the cavern.

Gaston shrunk back with the sound (and the sight).

"What...what happened?" he blinked up, seeing a tiny opening in the cavernous roof, where a speck of light fought to get through. Drips of the silver water followed it.

"Looks like...a leak...in the roof..." the Beast spoke between struggling breaths. He was in obvious pain, and Gaston was somehow compelled to look upon him again.

"Seems you've been dealt something a bit more bloody than a leak, Beast," he said grimly, noticing the bright red that was spreading out from the Beast's leg, pooling out almost prettily against the silver puddles and creating swirling patterns.

"Heh. Very amusing," the Beast said, and then gasped, his huge body shuddering a bit as he seemed to try and combat the pain.

Gaston shook his head. "Don't try to move. Stupid Beast."

He knelt down, hands wavering in indecision near the injury. It looked nasty, enough to make Gaston's stomach turn, and he'd been witness to (and prone to) enough injuries through the years.

"What else am I to do, stupid hunter?" Beast turned his head, lip curling as he glared at him.

Gaston hesitated, then pressed a hand experimentally on the bloodied leg. The Beast roared, and Gaston flinched back before offering him a harder glare.

"Keep still!"

"I'm trying," another roar, and the cavern seemed to tremble with the sound.

"At least try and be quiet," Gaston found himself yelling anyway. "Or the entire roof will fall on us!"

The Beast snorted, but it was like a begrudging admittance. Gaston took it as that, anyway. He glanced up, and was sort of happy not to know the Beast's expression.

"This will hurt."

He didn't give the Beast any bracing time, it was better this way. He took the jagged rock in both his hands, and pulled with all his might.

It came free with a rush of blood, gushing out and colouring the puddles around them red. They rippled with the sounds of the Beast's agonised cry.

Gaston didn't waste another moment; pulling off his hunting gloves, and washing the fresh blood off them in a clean puddle, before wrapping one tightly around the Beast's leg.

The Beast made a whining sound, but seemed to do better with that. Mildly satisfied, Gaston shook away the droplets of water that were pattering down on his face, before looking back down at the wound.

Amazingly, the Beast was already attempting to flex his ankle, but even more amazing, the wound seemed to have knitted itself together, just a little bit.

Gaston wiped an arm over his eyes, wondering if he was imagining things, or else he had truly lost his mind.

"It feels...better," the Beast sounded unsure. "what did you do?"

"I just..." Gaston stared at the silver water that was still dripping on and around the rather poor makeshift bandage.

He was struck with a demented feeling, but hardly dared share it with the Beast. Instead, he cupped some more of the water in his hands, before pouring it over the leg. The wound started to knit together a little more, taking away some of the blood with it.

Gaston could barely believe what he was seeing. He made a small sound of surprise.

"...Gaston?"

"It's-"

A stream of light suddenly spotlighted the both of them, and Gaston looked up just in time to see the silvery water burst through with it.

It drenched him completely, though he didn't pay it much attention. He watched, awestruck, as the water splashed off him to reach the Beast's back, rushing down to meet his injured leg. The blood seemed to dissolve away from the wound, and the deep, gaping cut merged itself back together, until there was nothing left to prove there'd ever been an injury there at all.

The Beast made a grumbling sound, and then took a few pronounced steps, before turning round, looking at Gaston as if he was supposed to have an answer for whatever the hell had just happened.

Gaston blinked up at the streaming gap of light above, where water was still pouring through, between them.

The Beast held out a paw, catching some of it in his palm. It glittered there, and he stared at it with a questioning face.

"I don't understand," he said.

Neither did Gaston, and he knew better than to try and think on it logically.

He blinked between the Beast's open paw and his face, attempting a shrug. "Let's get out of here," he started ahead, pushing past the Beast.

"And you still think this place isn't enchanted?"

Gaston halted, compelled to turn and look at the Beast, but knowing that if he did he'd give away his own uncertainty.

"There must be some other explanation. Let's go."

He didn't wait, instead hoping the Beast might follow. He was quietly pleased when he heard the steps padding behind him. And then he wondered why that might be.

He also wondered, as time and sense seemed to catch up to him, why he'd forgotten his better instincts, and had decided to help the Beast at all. Or had his better instincts turned into something else? He glanced sceptically to the side, knowing the Beast was close by.

It was hard to recall why he'd done anything up to this point. He was a man of action, after all; act first, ask questions later. Some questions were just harder to answer, it seemed.

"Why did you help me?"

It seemed like the Beast was good at asking those hard questions.

"What do you mean?" he feigned ignorance (he was good at that).

"You could have left me to die back there, impaled on the rock."

"I..." Gaston wavered. "...why did you help me?" he demanded, with a triumph that felt childish even to himself.

"I already told you, I'm not sure. I suppose it was some...better nature calling me."

Gaston pulled a face. "'Better nature'? How obscene."

Then the Beast smiled at him, and it was warm and simple;

"Thank you, Gaston. For helping me."

Gaston flinched with the words, as inoffensive as they were. It was a shock.

He stared up at the Beast, and realised absently that they'd stopped walking. Like that mattered.

Fists curled, but tense with something other than anger, he found he was anxious and more afraid of his own words, before they'd even left his mouth;

"You're welcome, Beast," he sneered. It felt like the Beast didn't see that part, though.

The other just nodded, like he'd accepted a compliment.

"Have you considered," the Beast said, slowly. "That you might have a bit of that better nature too?"

Gaston practised his glared; "I told you, I don't consider anything."

"Oh yes. I guess I forgot," the Beast didn't seem to care though.

They walked on in an unbroken but easier silence, save for the occasional drops of water and splash of puddles against feet, before a shining chasm of light eventually appeared ahead of them.

It was accompanied by the sound of water crashing down against rocks, birdsong, and a sweet, fresh scent which promised they were close to the end of their journey through the cavern.

At the very edge of the exit, the Beast turned back round to Gaston, his face earnest; "I am grateful, you know."

It was impossible for Gaston to hate him for that, so much as he might want to.

"Please. It wasn't like I did anything. It was enchanted water, after all."

He pushed past the Beast, hating that he'd admitted to something he'd been denying for so long.

But, as he scoped the landscape that was revealed outside of the cavern, gushing with brilliant sunshine, a cascading waterfall and lush green that seemed to have the most radiant glow about it, Gaston found it hard to describe it as anything other than enchanted.

"It's beautiful," the Beast said.

Gaston didn't need to think about it; "it is."

They glanced between each other with a flicker of surprise, an insignificant mutual agreement that was more like a small miracle, if nothing else.

Gaston wondered if his 'better nature' actually was getting the better of him.

88

Chapter Text

88

88

The waterfall was huge and magnificent, seeming to stretch up into an unknown valley that was framed by brilliant blue sky. Water crashed musically against glittering rocks, and they managed to look pretty soaking up the morning sun. The forest beyond that was far more inviting than it had been last night, and there was a freshness about everything surrounding them.

Beast was content to stare at it all for an age, but instead allowed himself only a few precious minutes of both contemplation and rest, dipping into the river and letting the silver water cover him completely.

It felt good.

Better than good; it was invigorating, like he'd been given a new lease of life, and more besides. The water soaked through his exhausted body, reaching from the tips of his claws to the top of his head. It was like all his senses had been sharpened; he could smell the earth and plants around him, and his vision was clear with the vibrancy of colours. Everything came together like a scenic painting.

Within the idyllic painting, stood the human, Gaston.

He sat at the edge of the riverbank, washing his hunting gloves. The last remnants of Beast's blood were pooling away from them into the silver water, and vanishing from sight, just as it had done in the cavern.

Beast recalled it all as if it might have been a hazy dream, and not just because of the waters apparently magical properties.

The idea that Gaston had helped him was still surreal in his head, to a point that he had begun to doubt it had ever happened at all. It might've all been a bit coincidental. Perhaps the water would have reached him anyway, whether Gaston had left him for dead or not.

It was hard to know. It had all happened so quickly.

But Beast had not missed the fear and then the resolution that had flashed in Gaston's eyes. It had looked so alien, but then so real on his face. He hadn't imagined that.

"Are you finished in there, Beast?" Gaston called, impatience dominant in his voice. He was standing up, shaking his gloves against the warm breeze.

Beast tilted his head, in part acknowledgement and intrigue, at the idea Gaston might actually be waiting for him.

He wasn't a fool; he knew that Gaston wasn't staying near to him for anything like companionship. It was clearly protection, and the hunter was seeing the advantages in having a huge Beast on his side in a forest of the unknown; bloodthirsty wolves included.

"I don't suppose you have a plan?" Gaston watched as Beast climbed out of the water, shaking himself dry. "Can't you do that somewhere else?" he brushed the water spray off himself with a scowl.

"A plan?" Beast said.

"Yes, you know. To escape this beastly place. Don't excuse the expression."

"I won't," Beast pulled his cloak back on, debating briefly whether or not to abandon his other clothes, which were mostly in tatters. In the end he opted to keep them. "I can't say I've thought too far ahead about it," he said, honestly. "Getting impaled by knives...and then rocks, it doesn't give much time for planning."

"Very helpful," Gaston looked agitated. He ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to do that a lot when he was riled, Beast noticed.

He also noticed the clawed mark struck across the hunter's cheek, leading close to his ear.

"Here," Beast did not stop to think on it, and he grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him down toward the river.

"Hey-! What're you-"

"Be still," Beast poured some water unceremoniously on his face. Gaston barely lingered long enough, spluttering and falling back onto the bank in confused indignation.

"What the hell do you mean by that? You-"

"The river, it'll heal your injuries too," Beast explained simply. He stood back, pleased to see that the scarring had completely vanished from the hunter's face.

Gaston raised a hand to his cheek, rubbing it with a begrudging relief. Then he levelled the Beast a haughty glare.

"You might've just told me, instead of doing that, Beast."

Beast shrugged. "Have you properly bathed? It might be an idea to do that. We don't know if the rest of the river will be like this."

Gaston stood up, and gave a careless wave of his hand. "As if I need it."

"Very well," but Beast looked him over anyway.

It wasn't that he was very concerned for the human. Besides everything else, it seemed like the hunter really did take ownership of nine lives, or was living on a ridiculously lucky streak. He really was built to last.

It was a fact that was both disconcerting and comforting, if that were even possible. Beast just couldn't decide; it was like having a human time-bomb on side, but then it could ignite on him at any moment.

It was a complete gamble, and maybe the hunter would still try to kill him yet.

"Beast? What're you doing?"

Beast blinked up, to see Gaston was already walking away, with an impatient glance over his shoulder.

Beast cast a final look round at the waterfall, where the sun reflected off the surface of the river, creating an attractive but blinding shimmer.

He didn't dare look to see his reflection, if only because the last time he had, he had not seen the face of a Beast at all, but that of an old life he hadn't expected to see ever again.

88

"So, this 'curse' you speak of. How does it work, exactly?"

"I can't exactly tell you that."

"I told you, I enjoy stories," Gaston's mouth formed a pout. "Just not reading them."

Beast sighed; "And I told you. It isn't just a story, I can't tell you. Even if you would enjoy it... which I'm sure you would, now I think about it."

They'd been walking close to the riverside for a little while, with the sun reaching it's hottest point, beating down on them. Every now and then Gaston dipped a hand in the waters, as if he were testing it for something. Beast didn't bother to question him about it, and concentrated on keeping a close eye and ear out for the wolves, wondering if they'd walked far enough through the cavern to escape their range.

Besides that anxiety, Beast was distracted enough by the hunter, and it was somehow a relief, even if his conversation was often suspicious or something Beast didn't really want to answer.

"What does this story tell of, that I'd enjoy so much?" Gaston pressed. "Epic battles between man and beast?"

Beast hesitated. "I suppose it could be, considering how you ended up at my castle."

"I know that bit. I mean before all of that."

"Well, I'm not sure," Beast hoped he looked nonchalant about it. "But the story would go that I'm cursed, and I'm still waiting on an answer to it."

Gaston blinked at him. "An answer? You mean something to break it?"

"Ideally."

"And what happens if you don't?"

"Then I suppose the story is a rather tragic one."

"Hmph. For you, perhaps," Gaston shook his head and pouted. Then he straightened, raising his head to the skies, like he was envisioning something far more wonderful than Beast could ever imagine; "I can tell you now; my story will have the most fantastic ending. Men from all walks of life will hear of it and retell it to their own children for generations to come."

"How fitting."

"Isn't it?" Gaston didn't catch his sarcasm, his attention apparently elsewhere.

He made a beeline for a long and thin tree branch that had fallen against the roots of a large tree. He picked it up, giving it a quick bend, as if to test it's strength. Seemingly satisfied, he snapped it against the ground. Beast unconsciously cringed back with the sudden motion, and then tilted his head with interest when Gaston knelt down and began sharpening it's point against rocks.

"What's that for?"

"Protection," Gaston said, then glanced up at him. "Some of us don't have fangs and claws to protect ourselves with, Beast," he tested the sharp point against his finger with a little smile, and then lifted it high above his head, like he might throw it. "also good for getting dinner," he tossed it a few yards past the Beast, and it stabbed into the soft earth, close to the riverbank, with a gratifying sound.

Beast supposed it made sense, though he wasn't sure he liked the idea of Gaston equipped with a weapon again, no matter how primitive it might be.

Gaston started to pull the stick out of the ground, and Beast caught his arm.

"Be careful with that."

He didn't need to elaborate any further. Their eyes locked, and the uneasy and unspoken words danced between them, like they were daring each other to voice it.

"I know you don't trust me," it was Gaston who succumbed.

He pulled at the stick in Beast's hold with a grimace.

"But remember that you're the beast here, and I'm the human. And I won't go out, against anything, without a fight."

Beast believed him; every pronounced word that slowly and defiantly left the hunter's quivering mouth, the only thing that betrayed his keen and well-worn bravado.

Beast nodded slowly, understanding. He let go of the stick, and Gaston wrenched it back, with a steeled expression that seemed more practised than it was real.

It was a sobering reminder, to see that the human, even this brutish human, might be truly afraid of him, and maybe there was nothing else to it.

Beast realised he'd have to try harder himself, if the unspoken idea, which nobody seemed interested in saying, was to try and get along.

"Fine. A truce, then."

Beast held out his paw to the hunter.

Gaston stared at it in bewilderment. "what?"

"A truce. It means-"

"I know what it means, Beast!" Gaston snapped, then recomposed himself. His expression flickered, almost apologetically. "...fine. Okay."

He reached out his arm, haltingly, catching the Beast's paw in his own hand. It was a quick but firm shake, and Beast felt the curl of gloved fingers dig with nerves against his pads, if only for a second.

Then Gaston dropped his hand and turned quickly away. He carried the stick in a tight grip at his side, as though his life might depend on it.

Beast stood a moment, staring at his open paw, where the warmth of the strong grip still hung there. The only proof of a promise that felt precarious at best, even with recent memories of the hunter's face, and how determined he'd looked in the cavern, even though he didn't have to be.

Beast blinked back up, watching the human toss the sharpened stick along the riverbank, his eyes on the waters and completely unaware of whatever Beast might be thinking or doing.

Beast wondered if he wasn't giving the hunter enough credit.

He hurried to catch up to him, not to his side, but close enough.

8

By late afternoon the sun was dipping behind the valley, and the sky was pinkish, creating a warm air that was humid but not intolerable.

The river had begun to thin out, much to Gaston's chagrin. He waved his stick morosely about the shallower waters, and spoke to it with some disgust.

"Not a single damn fish."

"Ah, so that's what you were looking for," Beast looked through the ripples, watching Gaston's bothered reflection before noticing his own. He curled his lip with the sight of it. At least he knew that the river was not enchanted any longer.

Gaston turned his head to him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Beast said. He straightened from a slump he didn't know he'd been keeping. "Just thinking."

"A dangerous pastime," Gaston poked the stick into the waters again, with a drawn out sigh; "I've taken back some real beasts from the rivers near my own town. You should see how many I have mounted on my walls."

"I'd rather see something on a plate, than mounted on a wall right now."

Gaston inclined his head, like he might agree with the sentiment, even if he didn't say it.

Beast kept his eyes on the hunter's gently rippling reflection; "Tell me something?"

Gaston glanced up at him, his face crossed with suspicious interest.

"What?"

"How are you so certain your story's end will be so fantastic? Are you really such a town hero?"

"Of course," Gaston did not miss a beat, "I'm something of a hunting legend in my town, Beast," he looked back at the waters; a prideful reminiscence softening his features.

Even if he happened to be recalling his own glories, it was a change that the Beast could welcome. At least he wasn't snarling or frowning or glaring anymore. This was something he could probably handle a little better.

"Back at my tavern, they would write songs about me," the hunter continued. "About my great hunting skills, my strength...everything."

"Everything?" Beast scoffed, unable to help himself.

Gaston pulled his gaze away from the water, offering Beast something like a sneer. "But of course. There isn't anything I'm not good at, Beast."

He turned and started walking further along the riverbank again, aiming his stick high above his head, and then letting it sail with a natural effortless through the air, as if to prove his own point.

"I see," Beast pondered, intentionally loudly. "I suppose it makes sense you'd think that, since you've always been told that."

"What?" Gaston blinked, as though trying to find the insult in Beast's words.

"I can imagine it's nice, to have those who'll bow to your every beck and call, no matter what."

"Yes, well-"

"How else does a man get to be so completely sure of himself all of the time?" Beast looked ahead, pretending the hunter hadn't spoken. "I really can't think of any other reason."

Gaston glared at him, and there was a gleam of uncertainty catching his face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Beast. As usual," he added, as a surly afterthought.

He pulled the embedded stick back out of the ground, before tossing it in front of them once more.

"Now let me ask you something, Beast."

Beast grunted, hardly wanting to commit to such an agreement, not that it would stop Gaston;

"How is it that a 'cursed' Beast has never been heard of in my town? How have you escaped sight for so long? Especially my sight?"

There was a demanding note in his voice, like he really, truly needed to know the answers.

Beast focused his attention ahead, where the stick had landed cleanly in the ground once again. This time he swiped it up before Gaston could get to it, and Gaston looked at him and the object guardedly, still waiting for an answer.

"Curses are strange things," Beast decided. "Many people are not supposed to know of it, including yourself," he handed the stick over to the hunter.

Gaston frowned at the ground, as if debating whether it was a satisfactory answer or not. Then he shrugged his shoulders, rolling his eyes to the side.

"Is that a part of the curse too? You're not supposed to tell anyone else about it?"

"Now you're getting it."

"You don't make it very easy, Beast."

"Nor do you."

They stood, in an unexpectedly agreeable silence for a moment, the only sounds being that of flitting insects and far off birds.

Then Gaston quickly snapped the stick in half. He held one half out to the Beast.

Beast stared between it and Gaston, in surprised confusion.

"In case we fight again, it'll give you a fighting chance," Gaston said, in way of explanation. "And I have to give you some compensation for your handicap. It's only fair."

Beast raised a brow. "'Handicap'?"

"Your beastly appearance, obviously. We can't all be perfect tens."

Gaston flashed a grin, something that the Beast had never seen on him before. He'd turned away before Beast could properly absorb it though, or the words.

He stood still, a little stunned by the gesture.

Perhaps his would-be killer wasn't completely selfish ego. Or at least he might be discovering a sense of humour about the situation, at last.

Whatever it was, the Beast found his mouth trembling into a grin too.

He tossed the stick, watching it sail and land, neatly and near to Gaston's.

8

"As it happens, I did used to hunt sometimes. Although it was all encouraged through tradition. A part of my...lineage, if you will."

Gaston looked at Beast oddly. "A beast with tradition, now? Your story gets stranger and stranger."

"Are you enjoying it?"

Gaston batted away some foliage; "...hmph. Suppose I'm not disliking it yet."

Beast smirked, he'd take that as a yes.

They'd been walking through dense forest for some time now, the river having dried up long ago. The air was sticky and humid with early dusk, and there was a sense of wariness between them, knowing that by nightfall they'd be at their most vulnerable once again.

Hunger was setting in too, and the mission to find something, anything, before dark was becoming very bleak.

Gaston stopped suddenly at a tree trunk. He plucked something from it and turned to Beast with a triumphant face. He held a thick tuft of dark brown fur between his fingers.

"There might be some big game around here," he said, voice lowering considerably. "Be quiet," then he seemed to consider Beast. "can you detect anything? I mean, a scent, or something?"

Beast was surprised that he might ask. During their short-lived hunt for rabbits, Gaston had not seemed interested in using the Beast for anything other than a simple tool to bring game to himself. Now though, he seemed to be looking at the Beast as if he might be something more than that.

"I..." Beast tested the air, nose wrinkling as the fresh scent of sweet flowers and then earthy tones met it. With that, he knew the scent of the hunter well enough too; as similar as the forest itself, mingled with the gleam of fresh human sweat, which was more familiar than it was unpleasant.

"I can't smell much at all," he concluded, feeling unhelpful.

"Never mind," Gaston shook his head, not seeming to care. He carried on treading carefully forward, batting branches out the way and dodging over the thick roots of trees, as if he knew they were already there.

Beast spoke quietly; "What do you mean by 'big' game, precisely?"

"Big enough," Gaston hastened forward, pointing his tree branch around the overgrowth. It managed to look somehow threatening in his muscle bound arms.

Beast didn't bother questioning him anymore. In truth, he was far too hungry, and he rather hoped Gaston was right.

They'd walked barely a couple more yards, and then Gaston froze, so that Beast almost bumped into him. The hunter's body stilled like a statue, and then his breath caught, into amazement.

Beast followed his gaze, where a huge mound of brown fur was settled amongst the shrubbery, half hidden by all the foliage, but enough to see exactly what it was.

"A bear," Beast realised, and felt Gaston's arm jab his side.

"Be quiet," he hissed. "we need to kill it quickly, before it wakes-"

"What...no," Beast grabbed Gaston by the elbow, pulling him roughly back so that they were face to face. "You can't."

Gaston's eyes widened in indignation, and his scowl settled on the paw on his arm. "What do you mean? Of course I can-" he tried to pull himself free of Beast's hold. "Let go."

Beast shook his head, and reached out, attempting to pull the stick from his other hand.

Gaston grunted, combating the resistance with some considerable strength; "What is your problem, Beast? This is our food!" he whispered loudly.

"You can't just kill a sleeping creature like that."

"Why not?!"

"It isn't fair."

Gaston managed to twist an arm free with a nasty and hushed laugh. "You were hardly complaining about cooked rabbits the other day. Now let me do it."

There was a marked determination in the hunter's eyes, which the Beast recognised with a hopelessness he knew all too well now. He wasn't going to be able to end this without another fight, and...he found he didn't want that.

Gaston's eyes were intense on his own for a long moment; chest heaving with the effort of freeing himself from Beast's hold. There was a tight clench to his jaw, completely full of tension. Then he turned quickly away.

Sick with angry disappointment, Beast watched the hunter move, with a stealth he'd come to expect.

Gaston crept behind the bear, sharpened stick raised high above his head, readying a certain death blow aimed straight for the animal's skull. His arms quivered in anticipation, mouth set in a grim grin of concentration and an almost knowing victory.

Then something strange happened.

The hunter blinked, and his eyes seemed to lose focus on the bear. They moved, perhaps unconsciously, to Beast.

It only took a split second for it to happen; it was as if he was seeing the Beast for the first time, and there was something like realisation there, crossing his face. Like he knew something even the Beast did not.

Beast watched, amazed, as Gaston dropped his arms, and the stick fell away, harmlessly, to the ground.

The silence that hung between them was heavy, and Gaston stared at the bear as if as confused by his actions as Beast himself.

The hunter's chest moved unevenly; a breath that sounded like defeat, and when he looked at Beast again, it was completely that;

"...I could have done it," his voice cracked, unusually shaken with some emotion. "I could have killed it."

Beast nodded slowly.

"But you won't."

Gaston's face was hateful.

"Don't assume what I will and won't do, Beast," he stared between Beast and bear for a long moment. "...this is my decision."

Then he turned away, disappearing through the trees.

Beast stared after him, the strange few moments rippling around his mind, but there wasn't nearly enough time to properly process it.

Momentary relief and confusion was cut short by another sound, and then a familiar human cry followed, echoing through the forest.

Beast did not stop to wonder about it. He ran, pushing through the thick bushes and trees, trying to follow the sound, and catch a glimpse of dirty red clothing, or else dark hair in amongst the green.

He spotted the bear first; it was huge, and pacing about in a hulking rage, black eyes trained on Gaston. The hunter was crouched near a tree, posed to attack (of course he was), like he'd be able to take it on.

Shaking his head in some despair, Beast raced to stop them, releasing a snarl that made the bear take notice, if only for a moment.

It was also enough time for Gaston to register Beast with an annoyed look.

Beast sided up to him, taking in the dark cut across his forehead with an odd sense of responsibility and perhaps even guilt.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Incredible. Perfect ten, as always."

Beast didn't mind the sarcasm. He was sort of glad of it.

He turned his attention back to the bear, which lunged barely a second later, straight at his throat.

It was bigger and stronger than Beast could have anticipated, and as he was forced into reluctant fight, he found himself being pinned and bitten more times than should have been possible.

At some point, the bear lashed out a mighty back leg, flinging Beast back against a nearby tree.

White flashes stunned his vision, and for a while he felt warm with the taste of blood and pain.

So this was it, he was going to die here and now, at the claws of a bear, and because of a human who wanted him dead anyway...

Another pained groan, and this time it wasn't from his own mouth.

Beast opened his eyes, regaining his senses quick enough to see the bear standing there and teetering around him, before slumping forward into a groaning state of unconsciousness.

Gaston stood a little way behind it, grinning through his panting breath.

He was holding, of all things, an apple. He tossed it onto the grass, and then walked over to Beast, his cocky grin faltering into something a little kinder.

"Had to improvise," he said. "Apples are pretty hard, don't you know?"

He held out a hand to Beast.

For some reason, even though he was certain he was bleeding all over the place, Beast heard himself laughing. Relief reached him, and when he looked at Gaston it was with some happy disbelief too.

He accepted the hand, and Gaston pulled him to his feet, where they stood and stared between each other, at the unconscious bear.

After a moment, Gaston turned and picked up the apple again with a decisive face.

"Honestly, bear meat is pretty tough," he chucked the apple into Beast's paws, before picking up another one.

Beast smiled. "Apples are rather underrated, I've always thought."

Gaston's tensed grin relaxed into something softer and easier.

"Then it's settled, Beast."

8

The bear's attack had been vicious but brief enough, and Beast found that besides a tender wound to his side, he'd not suffered too badly. Even so, he realised that he had reason, for once, to be grateful that Gaston was such a good shot; be it with arrow, rock or even apple.

They picked what appeared to be a lone apple tree bare, and Gaston carried the apples in a bundle in his cape. Beast walked behind him, keeping a wary backward glance on the trail they'd already made through the forest, trying to find the scent of bear, and hoping they'd put enough distance between it and them for the time being.

Eventually, Beast noticed Gaston's sure stride starting to slow, though he knew the hunter wouldn't be the first to say he was tired and needed to rest.

"Let's stop," Beast said.

Gaston turned round, looking him up and down with a face that could've been worried.

"What about the bears?"

"They won't come this far out to find us," Beast assured, even though he didn't have a clue about that. "we'll be okay for the night."

Gaston spared him a doubtful look, fretful eyes flitting past his shoulder, like he was expecting the bear to be following them. Then his shoulders sagged and he nodded shortly, dropping the bundle of apples on the ground.

"Fine. Suppose we have enough apple related ammunition."

Beast wanted to smirk. "See, look on the bright side, hunter."

8

They rested under a tree that stretched out like an umbrella, sheltering them from a light shower that was more welcomed than unwanted.

Gaston sat opposite the Beast, and didn't speak much. He hadn't spoken much at all since the bear attack. He looked distracted, his dark brows furrowed, and his eyes set on the Beast, but not actually looking at him.

Beast was still trying to process everything that had happened himself. He couldn't even imagine what was going through the hunter's mind.

"Is...are you okay?" it still felt strange to ask him that sort of thing.

"Huh?" Gaston blinked, and straightened out of his unusually pensive state with a snap of his head. He looked at Beast as if he'd only just appeared. "Uh...yes. Of course," he chucked another apple core onto the growing pile that sat between them. "I don't think I've ever eaten so many apples in my life," he grumbled.

Beast could agree with the exasperated sentiment in his voice. Apples were okay, but they weren't particularly filling. Besides, they'd only found the one apple tree. It took a lot of apples to fill up a Beast, and a human called Gaston, apparently.

"Maybe we'll have better luck tomorrow."

Gaston looked sceptical. "Another bear offered up on a plate, perhaps?" he shook his head. "More like us on a plate, for another bear. Or a few wolves."

"I think we'd be too tough for them to chew on," Beast said, in way of consolation.

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly edible."

Beast snorted. Trust the hunter to get offended by something so stupid.

Gaston was faintly smirking, though.

"Tell me another part of your story, Beast," he said, rubbing his brow. "take my mind off this damned nightmare."

"Hmm," Beast rolled his eyes thoughtfully up to the darkening sky. "Well. I suppose I could tell you the part where I met Belle. If you're interested."

Gaston's face soured.

"I think I'd rather continue fighting bears with my bare hands. And then die horribly."

"That's a little dramatic," Beast paused, expecting the hunter to protest some more.

Gaston just rested his head in his hand, and watched the Beast with a weary expectation. "Go on, then."

Beast blew out a pursed breath, pleased he was open to some civil conversation.

"I can certainly understand why you'd fall for Belle. She is very...different."

"Different?" Gaston repeated the word as if it were new to him, and he curled his lip, like he didn't enjoy the taste of it. "Well. I suppose there is that."

Beast looked at him curiously; "Why did you fall for her then?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Gaston looked at him like he might be simple.

Beast hesitated, not wanting to predict the answer Gaston was going to give him.

"She's beautiful," Gaston confirmed it. "The most beautiful girl I've ever set my eyes on."

Beast winced. "And?"

"And?" Gaston looked at him in some confusion.

"And...what else?"

Gaston prickled. "what else is there?"

Beast smiled through his exasperation, and shook his head. "Never mind."

He leaned back against the tree, recalling the first moment he'd met Belle with a short sigh.

It was true, she was very beautiful, and at first that was all he'd seen too. Just as Gaston had probably fallen, so had he, in a weird way. But then, Belle was so intelligent and graceful and kind. Surely Gaston had noticed that in her too?

"She always has her head stuck in some silly book," Gaston said, with an agitated face. "I don't know why she couldn't learn to look at something else for a change. Like what was right in front of her."

Beast eyed him with sceptical amusement. "you mean someone like you?"

"Of course me," Gaston was incredulous. "I am rather fine to look at."

Beast pretended to scrutinise him in great detail.

As it was, there was no denying the human was handsome, so far as his own opinion could admit. Beast had observed it a few times, in a neutral, matter-of-fact sort of way. He already very well knew the human's vivid-blue eyes and the complimentary contrast of his dark hair...

Beast stopped in his thoughts. He wasn't supposed to actually scrutinise the damn hunter.

"You're okay, so far as conceited, murderous humans go," he said finally, then reached out a paw, to angle Gaston's jaw up. "and chiselled features that would put any sculpture to shame, I'm sure."

Gaston swiped the Beast's paw away, but looked pleased with the backhanded compliment before anything resembling annoyance.

Flattery was his real weakness. Beast wondered why he hadn't realised it sooner. Of course, it was obvious.

"Belle was crazy not to fall for you, clearly," he decided.

Gaston nodded, not seeming to care about the sarcasm. "You should tell her that. Since she has some sort of affection for you, of all things."

"That's why I love her," Beast had said, before he could stop himself.

Gaston looked surprised by the raw proclamation, and then uncomfortable. He folded his arms and put his glare on the pile of apple cores.

"You love her? How can a Beast feel such a thing?" he muttered, in some disbelief.

Beast did not have to think on the answer; "Because she sees past all of...this," he gestured to his own face. "...she knows I can be better than what I am. She's forgiving."

Gaston looked at him, a flicker of some new understanding catching his pessimistic expression, and yet he still shook his head.

"You didn't tell me how you happened across her. What were you doing, visiting the town library?"

The hunter's sarcasm was sullen and childish, but somehow entertaining.

"As it happened, she came to me. Not out of choice, though."

"Why ever would she?" Gaston said, as if it were obvious.

"I'm afraid I did something kind of stupid."

"Did you try to eat her?" Gaston was only half-joking.

"Not quite. I imprisoned her father."

"You..." Gaston's shoulder's shook as he started to laugh; it was edged with disbelief. "that really doesn't work, Beast. I tried it too."

Beast tipped his head. "Are you serious?"

Gaston looked at him sheepishly.

"Yes," he yawned, "I guess we have useless courting techniques in common," he tilted his head away, clearly not wanting to elaborate on it.

Beast didn't mind. He found himself wanting to laugh at the idea.

"It might shock you to know, I was actually quite adept at courting, before...well, all of this."

"What? You mean, courting with your own...beast kind?"

"...It's more complicated than that."

Gaston stared at him, eyes widening. "Are you telling me you've wooed more than one human person, besides Belle?"

Beast grinned, enjoying the shock and disgust that twitched across Gaston's face.

"I...yes, I suppose that is true. Before the curse, I mean," it wasn't a lie, just a really flexible take on the truth.

Gaston shook his head, more to himself than the Beast. "I can't believe that," his eyes narrowed. "What is your secret? Do you blindfold them all?"

"Haha. Very amusing."

"I'm serious. Were they concussed? Not in their right minds?"

"You are not very tactful," Beast pointed out.

"Who cares," Gaston dismissed. "how ever did you woo them then, with your...disfigurement?" he attempted to be tactful then, anyway.

"Um, I don't know," Beast pretended to think. "My personality, perhaps?"

Gaston looked unimpressed. "that?"

"Yes, that," Beast grinned, but knew he was pushing his take on the truth too far now.

Of course things had been far different before the curse, but Gaston wasn't to know that. And he never would.

"It seemed to work well enough with Belle, anyway," he amended.

That was a truth, at least.

Gaston's soured expression only deteriorated some more, but then he yawned again, and it made him look less irritated, and more resigned.

"So you're saying she went to rescue her crazy father from you, and then she fell in love with you? Because that makes no sense at all."

Beast cleared his throat. "It didn't go quite like that."

Gaston raised an eyebrow.

"Right," he rubbed his eyes, and then shook his head at the ground, his pout becoming more a line of concentration. "I don't understand that woman at all."

He tipped his head forward a bit, just long enough for Beast to catch better glimpse of his face, when it was out of the shade of the tree.

Maybe it was the effects of wariness, pulling away most of the hunter's guard and making him appear so vulnerable for a moment, but Beast thought he looked far more handsome like that; without the dominating essence of rage or fear reigning over his features.

Yes, Beast could see easily in that moment, how anyone might fall for the hunter, however ignorant and self-obsessed he might be.

"Anyway," Gaston blinked back up at him then, as though coming out of deep thought. He threw another apple core onto the pile. "I think I'd prefer death over another one of these things. And I'm still hungry."

Beast nodded in short agreement, kind of disappointed that the thread of conversation had been lost so abruptly.

He stared into the darkness, and an unspoken uneasiness settled around them as their surroundings became harder to see.

Beast heard Gaston's stomach growl and the way he softly cursed, with a tentative shred of compassion.

A reminder, reaching his curious thoughts all at once, that Gaston hadn't killed the sleeping bear. He'd listened to Beast, for whatever reason.

Beast felt his eyes drooping, and then he heard Gaston's voice, a little softer than usual;

"I'll keep a look out."

For the first time, as Beast closed his eyes, he thought he might be able to trust the hunter. Just for a little while. 

88

88

(A/N: included another animated film reference/line. See if you can find it, for funsies!)

Chapter Text

88

88

The rain was still falling, a gentle patter against the outstretched tree; a soothing noise that should have sent Gaston to sleep very easily.

Instead his stomach lurched again, reminding him of his own recent and bewildering behaviour. He wasn't sure what was happening to himself.

He'd come so close to killing that damned bear, and it would have been so easy too. Nothing was supposed to distract him like that. It was as if the Beast had exposed a repulsive and shameful secret he didn't know he had been hiding, or perhaps he'd always known it, but it was never a problem before.

Nothing was a problem before.

Life was always easy and plain sailing for Gaston. He never needed to stop and think about anything, because anything he ever did was always right and that was that. Nobody would ever tell him otherwise. And why should they?

Now he could feel a strong resolve crumbling away, though slowly, it was happening. The Beast had broken it, broken him somehow, like a wound that wouldn't heal itself. Unlike every other knock or bump he'd always been able to brush off, without ever having to think about it.

This one was permanent, and he was shaken.

Gaston glanced unwillingly at the Beast, who slept so soundly. It was ironic, the peaceful subject and the very cause of his overwrought mind.

There were visible claw marks on the Beast's pelt, clear even against the darkness, where the bear had injured him. It was just another ego-bruising reminder that the Beast had helped him, and saved him, yet again.

Gaston got up; familiar restlessness reaching his body. He needed to walk, or something, or else he thought he might go mad within his thoughts.

"Can't sleep?"

Gaston startled with the low voice of the Beast. He'd been so sure he was sleeping.

"Uh...I'm not tired."

The Beast stretched out, his yawn long, and fanged teeth shining, before he shook the sleep from his face. Even though it was dark, Gaston could see the soft edge to his eyes.

"I can keep a look out. You need to try and sleep too."

Gaston shook his head. "I told you. I'm not tired."

"Neither was I until I closed my eyes. Go to sleep."

Whether compelled by Beast or his own weary body, Gaston begrudgingly did as he was told, sinking back down onto the ground, keeping his eyes on the other. He could feel his defences crumbling with the motion, just like everything else within him had been falling down so much lately.

He wondered, vaguely, when it would stop.

He barely kept his eyes open a minute longer, feeling shadow cross his face, before sleep crept up on him.

The Beast was right; he was so tired.

8

He dreamt, and that was strange, because he didn't usually remember his dreams very well at all.

He was standing in the rain, in the middle of the forest, only it looked mistier and darker than usual, and there seemed to be the Beast's castle somewhere in the near distance. He was looking down at the carcass of an animal. Something big, like a bear.

There was blood on his hands. He'd killed it.

He bent down to look at it more closely, before realising too late what it was.

Something tightened in his chest, like the sickening sensation between panic and confusion, before realising the real consequences of a terrible action.

The rain was soaking him, and he grasped the Beast's fur, like he might try and wake him-

8

"...hey. Hey."

Gaston opened his eyes.

The inconsiderate brightness of morning was disorientating, and the Beast's concerned face made his stomach twist. A huge paw was rested lightly on his shoulder. He quickly shrugged it off.

"...what?" he said, groggily. "what is it?"

"I can hear something...are you okay?"

"Hear what?" Gaston sat up, immediately alert.

"I'm not sure. Wolves, maybe," Beast's voice was quiet. "I thought you might be having a nightmare."

Gaston attempted to sneer. "Hardly."

He blinked up at the Beast and recoiled, the freshness of his dream racking him with an inexplicable guilt he didn't know he had.

"What's wrong?" the Beast had noticed.

"Nothing. I'm great," Gaston said sarcastically, in hope it'd made the Beast stop looking at him like that.

"Alright," the Beast seemed unconvinced, but he did turn away. "We need to start moving. They...the wolves sounded close by."

Gaston rubbed his eyes. "Wonderful."

He stood up, shaking the dull ache from his legs. He felt stiff with the way he'd slept, and the thrum of a headache and grumble in his stomach reminded him of everything else he didn't have the energy to think about.

The Beast was watching him, like he could sense the heaviness in his motions. "It could be worse. We could both be dead already."

Gaston offered the Beast what he hoped was an impressive glare. "I'm glad one of us is seeing the bright side in all of this."

He gathered up his cape, which was wet with the early morning dew. A couple of apples were there, left over from last night, and he snatched them up and into his pocket. He didn't think he could actually eat another apple ever again without throwing up, but maybe they'd work as another ridiculous last resort sort of weapon.

Stupid. He could barely believe he'd been reduced to such desperate ideas, but here it was.

Gaston only wished he still had his bow and arrow, or even his hunting knife. He remembered it rather sadly, sitting somewhere at the bottom of a river.

"So, I guess we keep headed in this direction," the Beast gestured vaguely in front of them, where the air was misty in a soft sort of way, and the trees and plants were still sodden in dew.

"Yeah," Gaston didn't really know, but it seemed logical that if they kept in a certain direction they would finally reach something that looked familiar again. At least, that was Gaston's practical hope.

The Beast led the way, his large form easily parting trees and bushes, making Gaston's path a bit easier after him. Every now and then he was dealt a splash of dew from the retracting brushes, if he got too close to the Beast. He tried to hang back some more.

"You're quite a good shot with an apple," the Beast said, after a while. "I don't think that bear saw it coming."

Gaston stared at the Beast's back, wanting to smirk. "What can I say? I'm a master with most all weaponry. Bow and arrow, gun and...apple."

"I owe you one for that," the Beast sounded sincere through his amusement.

Gaston hadn't really thought about that. He'd been far more preoccupied with his inability to kill the sleeping bear, than anything to do with helping the Beast.

It seemed more of an afterthought, now.

"I'm sure you don't," he said stiffly, and swiped some more plants out of his face. "I was just returning a favour. We're even now."

"Are we?" Beast turned his head to face him, and Gaston still found it difficult to look at him, without remembering his dream all at once.

"Yes. Don't expect I'll be risking my neck to help you out all the time, Beast."

Beast grunted, still kind of smiling as he turned away again. "I'd never dream of it."

"Good."

Gaston searched for something else to say, Something biting, that would make him feel better about himself. and dissolve the awkward tension he felt whenever the Beast seemed like he wasn't really a Beast at all.

But he couldn't think of anything.

He put on a resolute face, simultaneously snapping a thick tree branch in his hands. He practised swinging it around his head, imagining wolves and bears and lord knew what else pouncing upon him, as he did so.

So long as he kept his mind on practical things, like survival, and focused on an end goal, it would be okay. He didn't need to waste time wondering about anything else, or worrying about whatever had happened yesterday. He was tired and hungry and clearly not thinking very straight at all. That was it.

He'd feel normal again soon, when this was all over.

8

The forest was starting to thin out as the morning got warmer, though the mist was still heavy, making the trees look like faded paintings. It really limited the already vague idea of where they were headed or how far they might need to go, and Gaston was starting to wonder if any chosen direction would make much sense at this point.

"How far did we even fall?" Beast said.

"Huh?"

"When we fell off the castle. I don't remember."

Gaston snorted. "It's your castle, how am I supposed to know?" then he let the Beast's words sink in properly. "You don't remember, either?"

"Not really."

Gaston blinked up, trying to visualise a moment that seemed a long time ago, for some reason. "I just remember climbing up the castle to reach you, and then..." he wiped a hand over his face. "...you know."

"Yes, I remember that part. What a pain."

Gaston grimaced, unable to tell if the Beast's sarcasm was supposed to be malicious or not. He guessed it would be; he couldn't really imagine a scenario where being stabbed in the back invited anything like a joke.

"It hardly matters," Gaston said quickly, if only to cover his own awkwardness. "Maybe your supposed 'curse' did this to us."

"But you're not a part of the enchantment," Beast said. "I don't understand how we both ended up here, if that's the case."

Gaston shrugged. "Seems to me your curse just does what it likes. I mean, enchanted furniture? How ridiculous."

"They weren't always just objects," the Beast's voice became pensive, almost sad. "I do regret...that my subjects were involved."

Gaston pulled an incredulous face at his back.

"What are you talking about? A Beast with subjects, now?"

The Beast chuckled; "You think I live alone in that castle?"

"Actually, I don't know what to think of you anymore," Gaston grumbled, more to himself.

And that was entirely the problem, wasn't it?

Gaston could feel himself, unwillingly, becoming more and more intrigued by the creature in front of him, and he still wasn't sure when it had begun to happen. He realised he wasn't looking at the Beast as a simple animal any more. No, he hadn't thought that for a while.

He knew it, deep in his gut, from the moment the Beast had shown strange humanity about his eyes even back on the castle roof, before any of this had happened. He'd figured that Belle had been right, even then.

Only now it was like he could properly see it for himself, and he couldn't deny it any longer.

Gaston pursed his lips, vowing that he'd never have to admit such a revelation out loud, at least.

"I'm not sure what to think of you either, hunter." the Beast spoke, musingly.

Gaston didn't know what to say to that. Instead, he just followed the Beast's careful gaze, though some parting bushes.

They'd reached what appeared to be a long stretch of lush fields, with high yellow-green grass and violet wild flowers sprouting all around them. Beyond that, Gaston could barely make out some more trees, and then a high-rising hilltop, still mostly covered by the mist.

Gaston stepped testily into the exposed area, boots pressing on ground that felt slightly muddied. He held the tree branch tighter, feeling uncommonly nervous about something.

"Do you think it's safe?" Beast said, seeming to share his unease. Gaston turned to his side, offering him a neutral face.

"I don't know. Am I expected to know everything?"

"I thought you did," the Beast's mouth curved up. "I'm disappointed."

Gaston snorted derisively and stomped a little way ahead, grass catching so far up as his knees, and the mud squelching beneath his boots.

The Beast hung back; he was looking up at the sky, where a flock of white birds were casting patterns about as they moved.

"Are you coming, Beast? Or just here to admire the scenery?"

Beast blinked at him.

"Sometimes it's nice to take notice of the simpler things," he explained. "Like yourself, for example."

Gaston stared, watching the way the Beast's smirk quivered, threatening to become a proper grin. Gaston wanted to be more annoyed than he actually was, but somehow it felt like too much effort.

At this point, there didn't seem to be much gain in acting like he hated the Beast anymore.

Acting?

Gaston bit his lip, trying to rid himself of another horrible realisation.

"Very funny, Beast," he muttered.

This was dangerous. Tolerating the Beast was fine enough, he could handle that. But anything else...

No. Gaston set his jaw, unable to comprehend his own admittance. That could not be. That could not happen.

8

The mist still hung like a blanket over them, thick enough that it was harder to see more than a couple of metres in front of the hand. Gaston found himself keeping near to the Beast, if only for that reason, but with it he realised it was becoming a far more natural inclination. Having the Beast in sight was a reassurance Gaston didn't think he'd ever have counted on.

They walked in silence for a little while, even though Gaston typically disliked it. He didn't enjoy dwelling on thoughts for too long, no matter what the situation, but this situation seemed to demand it. It was either that, or make conversation with the Beast.

Gaston looked at the Beast's back again with a disheartened face. It was all he'd been able to stare at clearly for a while now, through the shrouds of mist that otherwise covered them.

"I have to admit, your coming to my castle was impressive by itself. Most people want to escape me, rather than seek me out."

Gaston's chest lurched with the sudden prayer-answer of conversation, and then the subject matter itself.

"Is it so strange?" Gaston said. "I was only doing the right thing."

"I know you only did it because of Belle."

Gaston felt himself flush with the words, and then an automatic indignation;

"I did it to protect the townspeople. I'm a hero to them," the words felt hollow, even to himself, but the Beast did not need to know that, and how dare he even think otherwise?

"I don't expect Belle saw it that way," the Beast said, coolly.

Gaston stopped in his tracks, forgetting everything else.

"Belle had nothing to do with it," he felt hot with his own sudden anger; fists clenching and nails biting into skin. "What would you know about it anyway, Beast?"

The Beast stopped too, frowning harshly in his direction, and maybe a bit surprised by his reaction.

"I know enough that you would attempt to kidnap her father, apparently."

"So did you!" it was a childish outburst, but somehow it made Gaston feel better; the way the Beast flinched with his words.

But then the Beast's face resolved;

"Maybe. But I only did what was expected of me. Something you would have expected of a beast like me."

The Beast's tone became accusatory then; sharp teeth flashing through curled lips.

"What is your excuse, Gaston? Or are you really such a monster?"

Gaston found himself floundering with the question, only because it probed at the doubts he'd already been trying to keep tightly locked up, and now they were clawing for that elusive escape. He wouldn't let them.

"Spare me your preaching, Beast," he said finally. "I hardly care what you think of me, anyway. All you need to know is that I did what was right for the townspeople."

Beast snorted. "you only did what was right for your own delicate ego. And I'm sure the townspeople were already patting you on the back before you'd done a thing. Sycophants, so easily led."

There was a note of real understanding there, as if the Beast was speaking from raw experience, but Gaston could hardly concentrate on it. He was so caught up in his own rage.

"You don't know a thing about it, Beast! So shut up."

"I thought you didn't care what I thought of you?"

"I don't."

Gaston realised he was negating his own words by getting so angry at the Beast. Why did the Beast do that to him? Why did the Beast make him question every little thing that had always been so meaningless before?

It wasn't as if he'd ever worried about whatever the townsfolk really, truly thought of him. And anyway they adored him, didn't they? They'd followed him to the castle, and they would have helped him kill the Beast without question.

He didn't need to question their loyalty, and it didn't matter how he'd gained it. Be it through talent or fear, or what did it even matter?

It didn't. He was being ridiculous. Letting the Beast get to him, somehow.

Gaston set his face into a severe scowl, trying to clutch the remnants of his hate for the Beast. It was still there. All he had to do was remember Belle, and how the Beast had taken her from him.

"Listen, Beast. Once we get out of here, nothing changes, you understand? A truce is just that, a truce. It doesn't last forever."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Beast's expression turned into something darker, reminding Gaston that he was still a beast, after all.

Perhaps unconsciously, he braced himself;

"It means exactly what I said. When we get out of here, you'd better be extra sure to watch your back."

The Beast rose up, his fur spiking with the implications.

"Is that so? Then I guess we shouldn't keep up the pretence of appearances any longer, hunter."

Gaston took a step back, raising his stick a bit and half-expecting the Beast to launch an attack. Instead, the Beast did the opposite, and whirled round, seeming to storm off and vanish into the mist.

"Hey, where're you-"

"I'd rather travel alone than spend another minute in the company of my would-be killer," the Beast sounded threatening, even as his voice began to fade. "Good luck, I suppose."

Gaston looked into the mist, watching the dark shape disappear from sight completely, with an unexpected mix of panic and frustration.

"Wait, you can't...Beast...come back!"

He took a few quick steps, enough to catch the Beast's silhouette more clearly again, and then catch his expression as he started to turn around; bright blue eyes seeming alight in their rage. He looked more angry than Gaston had seen him in a while.

"Hunter, I will not-"

Though he never got to finish.

The ground shuddered beneath them, and Gaston took an instinctual and staggering step backward.

The Beast's eyes widened, and then a gasp, which came from the both of them. The ground trembled again, and then the Beast fell away from sight.

There was a muffled thud, and then ominous quiet.

Gaston's stomach tightened with it, and he crept slowly forward, to where the Beast had stood.

"...Beast?"

He halted, breath hitching with a gasp. There was a deep gaping hole set bare inches before his feet. Gaston looked down it, to see the dark and unmoving shape lying at the bottom.

"Beast!"

Gaston dropped onto his stomach, close to the edge of the pit, trying to get a better look. After a moment, the Beast's body moved, and he lifted his head with a muffled groan;

"Uh...where...what happened?" he blinked up dazedly.

Gaston was inexplicably relieved.

He automatically stretched out an arm, even though it was ludicrous; the pit was far too deep for that, he knew. Even so, he stretched out some more; "Try and reach up."

The Beast took time regaining his focus, and blinked at Gaston's hand with recognition, and then his face, with some contempt.

"That won't work," he rubbed his head, and winced.

Gaston was undeterred. He looked around, remembering the tree branch he'd been carrying in a tiny moment of triumph. He picked it up in a hurry, and then lowered it back into the pit, as far as he dared to reach.

"Grab it, Beast," he ordered.

The Beast hesitated, then started to stand up. He swayed, and then slumped back over onto his knees with another groan. He briefly closed his eyes.

"No, don't do that," Gaston attempted to lower the branch some more, until he was half hanging over the pit himself. The ground started to crumble beneath him before he realised it, and he backed up with a growl.

He threw the tree branch away in some frustration.

The Beast had taken to sitting and cradling his head; it was obvious he'd done some damage to himself on the way down, and the idea of it was unsettling to Gaston. He'd never get used to seeing the Beast look so vulnerable, and more than that, he found he didn't want to see it.

He got up and looked around, trying to think more clearly about the situation. Unfortunately his mind was as fogged as their very surroundings.

He took a few careful steps around the pit, and attempted to make out the stretch of land left ahead of them. There were the shadows of trees somewhere in the distance, but the mist was too thick for Gaston to properly guess how far away they were.

He turned back to the pit, swallowing his discouragement.

"I'll go and find something, to get you out. There's more forest ahead."

Beast raised his head, and looked at Gaston doubtfully. He didn't say anything.

"...might be vines, or something like that. I'll take a look around," Gaston hesitated. "...okay?"

Again the Beast said nothing, his head bowed to the ground, as though resigned to a certain fate and maybe even accepting it. Gaston thought it was almost more maddening than anything the Beast had said minutes before this had happened, when they'd been yelling at each other.

"Are you listening, Beast?" he snapped.

The Beast grunted, and didn't seem interested in saying anything else.

Then it dawned on Gaston why that might be.

He dropped onto his knees, so he could be a little closer, and cleared his throat;

"I'll come back, alright."

Another heavy silence, and then the Beast blinked back up at him; a harmless and helpless look in his eyes, but perhaps the doubt there had lifted somewhat. It made Gaston believe his own words a little more, anyway.

"Alright," the Beast said. Then he smiled wryly; "I'll just wait here, then."

Gaston grimaced more than grinned.

"Right."

He lingered a moment, taking in the Beast's defeated face with a strange squeezing sensation in his chest.

"I'll come back," he repeated, like that made any difference.

8

It wouldn't have made any difference, whether Gaston had told the Beast he was coming back or not. But somehow, the words, physically leaving his mouth, made it something more. Something he would have to acknowledge, and couldn't pretend he'd never said.

And Gaston liked to think, in some part of his mind that played the 'hero', that he was a man of his word.

So he ran through the mist, mostly blind to whatever might be beyond his limited vision.

He'd always been a fast runner, with stamina to match, but right now his body wanted to do anything but that. His stomach was running on empty, and his legs were on their last with all the walking they'd already been doing up to this point. In better circumstances it would've been a piece of cake; but now he was going to have to think, and take note of his own limitations.

No big deal; he was excellent at everything else, why not his own limitations too?

Gaston tried to recall the forest in his mind, searching for the memory of a vine or anything that might resemble that. He couldn't, but it didn't matter, he'd find something.

There was a sudden pitched howl, somewhere in the near distance, and Gaston dropped to the ground with a hiss, pressing his chest hard onto the muddy earth, heart pounding against it.

Another howl, but this time it sounded further away.

A short breath of relief, and Gaston stood up again, kicking back into a sprint.

The grass lashed against his legs, the remnants of dew streaking across his clothes, and mud catching his boots, in vain attempts to slow him down. That wasn't going to happen.

Eventually the outskirts of forest came into view, and Gaston slowed to a stop, hands on his knees and bowing over in a brief but very needed few moments to catch his breath.

He pushed the hair out of his eyes as he looked back up, scanning the trees for something viable.

Then another howl, too close for comfort this time.

Gaston cursed, spinning round in the vague direction it had come from, somewhere across the fields. He backed up toward the forest, keeping his eyes ahead, trying to locate the source of the sound.

The horizon was still too misty though, and he knew, realistically, that he wouldn't see any wolves coming before it was too late.

He took another breath, resting a shaking hand against a tree as he gathered his thoughts back together. Adrenaline was still pumping all through his body, but with it the edges of reason were catching up to him, and he started to see things more clearly.

Maybe he'd still be able to escape, if not with the Beast.

He'd already come so far, who even knew how close they were to the end of this wretched forest, anyway? It'd be easier, it made more sense, to just keep going.

He could always come back later, with help. He'd bring his horse and he'd have his weapons...

He didn't even have to come back for the Beast at all.

The thought pressed at his mind, like an intruder to his already frantically buzzing thoughts. Gaston slumped back against the tree trunk, squeezing his eyes shut with the possibility.

With nothing else to distract his vision, the only thing his mind's eye saw was the Beast himself; sitting at the bottom of the pit. He looked pitiful, but more than that; his clear blue eyes were as vivid and soft and as human in Gaston's imagination as he'd ever seen them in actual life.

And now, he couldn't see anything else.

"Damn it..." Gaston dragged a hand roughly through his hair, and opened his eyes.

With his head tilted up, he suddenly noticed the myriad of tree branches swinging gently above him. And there, wrapped like thick green snakes, curling between trees and tree branches themselves, were the tangles of huge vines.

Despite everything, a laugh escaped him, his chest shaking in some broken and mad relief.

Yes, he'd truly lost his mind.

He ignored the sound of another howl, somewhere off in the distance, and started climbing the tree. Hands curving round branches, mud-caked boots slipping and then wedging firmly into them, as he got further and further up.

He was almost to the top, before he spotted the first wolf, off in the distance. It was sniffing the ground, like it might be catching a scent, but it hadn't spotted him yet. Gaston didn't think too much on it.

He looked up again, where a vine was dangling tantalisingly close, and then he looked back down. The fall would not be very forgiving.

Swallowing down the nervous realisation, he put his attention back on the vine; reaching out an arm as far as he dared.

Fingers brushed it, so infuriatingly close, but still not quite enough. A gentle but cruel wind blew the vine a little further away, and Gaston pushed away from the tree, trying to snatch it up.

He scrambled, foot slipping for a few heart-stopping seconds, before his other hand found a clumsy grasp on another branch, hauling himself back up against the tree again.

"...too close," he muttered, through a grin of terror.

The wind swayed the entire tree, and Gaston wiped an arm across his brow, gathering back his nerve.

He extended his arm again, more slowly this time, and the wind seemed to favour him. The vine swung and looped over his wrist, and Gaston didn't waste a second, coiling it tightly in hold. He wound it round a few times to secure it, and then pulled as hard as he could.

The rest of vine started to fall soundlessly toward the ground, and as Gaston followed it, he spotted the wolf again.

It hadn't seen him yet, but it was sniffing a little way off, like it might have his trail.

Gaston climbed back up against the tree, cursing under his breath.

He couldn't very well outrun the wolf at this distance, and the idea of taking it on bare-handed was too risky. He couldn't afford injury, especially not now.

As he shifted his weight against the tree, he felt the press of something hard in the slip of his shirt pocket. He grunted, doing his best to keep balance whilst searching for it.

He pulled out a ripe green apple, and thought he might laugh at it. Of course, he'd completely forgotten he'd taken a couple of them with him.

The wolf was still loitering about, getting closer to the tree, though it still hadn't noticed him. Gaston took a moment, then held the apple up. At first he considered hitting the wolf itself, but it didn't stay still long enough for that. He'd have to take a different approach. He scanned the distant horizon, over so many trees and greenery, further than the eye could see.

Gaston stretched his arm back as far as he could, and then he threw the apple.

It spun through the air at speed, a pretty speck of green against faded blue sky, silent for what seemed the longest time. Then it descended into the distant forestry, and flecks of birds called and flew up, out of the disturbed bushes.

The wolf lifted it's head, ears pricked in curious reproach at the commotion. Then it disappeared after it, into the trees.

Gaston released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and slipped the rest of the way down the tree. Sparing no more time for relief, he bundled the vine up and tied it round his back.

He looked back at the misty field with a steeled expression, teetering on a decision he knew he'd already made. He rolled his eyes as he turned properly around and grumbled, in his own disbelief;

"I suppose I must be a man of my word, then."

He belted across the grasses, barely slowed by the weight of the vine against him, his goal set and everything else forgotten. His legs felt heavy, but not in a way that would stop him, not now. His goal was too close, and his determination had always been entirely unbreakable. He could even allow himself a victorious grin as he reached the pit, and dropped to his knees beside it.

He peered down, and the Beast's face somehow made it all worth it.

"You came back," the Beast uttered, in some quiet disbelief. His eyes were wide.

Gaston offered him a sardonic smile, before unwinding the vine quickly from his back.

"Yes. Aren't I brilliant?" he threw the end of the vine into the pit, keeping the other half wound tight and taut about his arms and wrists. "Let's just hope you're lighter than you look, Beast."

The Beast gathered the vine in his paws with a bracing nod, and started to haul himself up.

The vine crackled and strained with the sudden weight, and Gaston jolted forward with a sound of pained surprise. He gritted his teeth and dug his boots deep into the earth, trying to regain his footing and get used to the sudden strain of vine that was pressing rather mercilessly against his wrists.

He would've sniped about how the Beast was definitely as heavy as he looked, but instead all he could do was gasp; the burn around his skin becoming fierce and rather too unbearable. He hadn't planned for that...

The Beast emerged from the pit with a panting snarl, and Gaston fell back onto the ground in some relief, as the intense weight abruptly left him.

They exchanged only the shortest glances of acknowledgement, before another howl, and then another followed it, carrying alarmingly quickly across the open fields.

There was no time to gloat, or even take the precious time to rest.

The Beast stood up first;

"We need to run, now!"

Gaston staggered, and broke into step, close to the Beast's side. With the sounds of wolves all around them, a new burst of energy found him, even if his heart felt like it was going to explode out his chest.

The forest was back in sight, and Gaston pushed a desperate surge thought his body, willing himself forwards to reach it. He was aware that the Beast was a little way ahead of him; it was only natural he'd be faster, and every now and then the Beast looked round, seeming to check he was still there.

Upon entering the forest, Gaston had hoped the cover might slow the chase, but to his dismay the wolves still sounded too close. To make things worse, he had trees and plants to contend with, and he stumbled and tripped around them all.

He chanced a look back, but it was a mistake; his boot catching on a tree root. He flew through the air and landed hard on his stomach, choking and winded by the force.

There was barely chance to recover again before he felt a hand on his shirt, pulling him roughly up and then pushing him bodily forward.

"Keep running," the Beast growled. He sounded close; "don't look back."

Gaston didn't need to be told twice; panting through his fall, he carried on; the trees becoming a blur of green, the ground a rush of bracken and leaves and earth for some frantic few moments.

He slipped, and then gravity seemed to be pulling him down again, only this time the earth was going down with him.

He tumbled, down and down, body hitting earth and plant all at once. He closed his eyes, tense with the battering, and realised he was rolling, and couldn't stop...

8

8

Gaston cracked open his eyes, shortly comforted by the ache in his limbs, because at least it told him he was still alive. He would've laughed, if not for his own exhaustion. Instead, he turned his head to the side, and saw the Beast grumbling and pulling himself up off the muddied ground.

The Beast looked at Gaston, and then started to laugh.

Gaston sat up, rubbing his tenderised side. "What?"

"Nothing," the Beast said, then seemed to wince at his own injuries. "looks like we fell...quite a way. But at least the wolves knew better."

"Hah," Gaston followed the Beast's gaze up. No wolves in sight.

They'd fallen down a steep but fairly forgiving sort of hill, that dipped into soft mud and earth. Graceless, but at least they were safe, for the moment.

Gaston pushed a hand through his hair, and then realised why the Beast might be laughing at him; he was caked in mud.

He stood up slowly, examining his dirtied body with some displeasure. "Great."

"Maybe we can find another river or something," the Beast said.

They both turned, to see that the marsh-like ground in front of them moved into a stony path that seemed to curve upwards, like a spiral against a very large hill's sharper edges. There really was no other way to go but...up.

Gaston looked reproachfully at the Beast, and the Beast actually grinned at him.

"Are you ready?"

"Not at all," Gaston wiped his face again.

"Me neither," the Beast's grin seemed to curve up some more. He started to walk, and Gaston noticed the way he limped a bit. It must have been the pit fall.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask if the Beast was alright.

"Slow down," he said instead, and ran to catch up to his side.

The Beast glanced at him. "you stink," he said, matter-of-factly.

"So do you."

The Beast laughed, and it was good natured.

Ridiculously, it made Gaston feel a bit better about everything.

He fell into step with the Beast.

88

88

Chapter Text

88

The sun cast a mean streak across the top of the hill, promising that the journey over it would be long and arduous. It was covered in greenery, offering trees for occasional cover, and there was the trickling sound of water, so close but not yet in sight.

They walked at a steady pace, but as the hours passed into a heated afternoon, Beast hoped a river, stream or something would make itself known to them sooner rather than later. His hind leg ached, and with the upward slope of the terrain, the effort of simply walking was getting to be more painful than he'd care to admit.

Gaston seemed to be fairing far better.

The hunter led the way; his steps careful but easy, as if he knew where safest to tread, and which odd and uneven trail to take next. Every now and then he looked over his shoulder, like he might be checking the Beast was still there, but never giving any other indication that this was his intent. He looked unbreakable. Even his muddied state adding a rugged quality that the Beast didn't think he himself could pull off, at least not in his old form.

Beast had caught himself thinking more than once that the hunter might be the enchanted one, having the endurance and stamina of something almost inhuman.

"This is no big task, Beast," Gaston said. "...there have been plenty of times I found myself at the top of a mountain peak, especially during summer hunts..."

Gaston's stamina also apparently extended in his ability to talk. He had an endless supply of topics, mostly revolving around himself (of course), and his various hunting escapades. It was as if any sudden silence or pause for thought scared him. Beast could kind of understand it.

And besides, he was sort of enjoying listening to the hunter's stories. He had an enthusiastic delivery, it nothing else. And it was interesting.

"...so I dragged the entire carcass back to the village, off of my own back," Gaston said, ducking under a tree branch. "I can tell you, the townspeople thought I'd slayed an actual monster."

"Slain," Beast corrected neutrally. "So, how did you celebrate such a task?"

"Drinks and...you know...other such things," Gaston's voice lilted a bit, as if covering up the modesty of someone else who wasn't there.

Beast realised what he meant with a smirk. "Ah, I shouldn't be surprised."

Gaston looked over his shoulder at him, his cheeks flushed. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not."

There was a forced silence, and Beast mentally searched around for a way to fix it; he didn't want to offend the hunter, not right now. He was kind of enjoying this off-the-wall new concept, that they might actually be having proper conversation at last, at least without resorting to killing each other.

Gaston cleared his throat and slowed, closing the distance a little between them. He kept his gaze ahead as he spoke;

"Beast, I know I'm not supposed to know anything about this curse, but haven't you told me enough that I could guess for myself?"

Beast's stomach tightened with the question.

"...I suppose so. But I can't tell you either way if you're right or wrong."

Gaston grimaced. "I can't decide which is more annoying. You, or trying to get out of this damned place."

He pushed through some thicker shrubbery, and Beast faintly grinned after him. It was getting to be habit, he was starting to notice.

The vitriol that had been so sincere and plain in the hunter's voice was now tired, and replaced with something else. Almost like an old familiarity, not quite friendly, but close enough.

"What's the matter?" Gaston turned round again, eyes taunting. "Can't keep up?"

"Of course I can."

Beast took larger strides, ignoring the throb in his leg, so that he was level with the hunter.

"Seems like you're struggling to me," Gaston said offhandedly. "Who would have thought, a beast like you tiring before me. Hah. Not that I'm very surprised."

"Hah," Beast rolled his eyes at the sky. He was getting used to that, too.

It didn't seem like the hunter could go more than a few steps without finding some easy way to berate him, or at least imply something to better himself.

Luckily, Beast was finding it quite easy to exploit the hunter's weak spots, too.

"So, are you going to recount to all your friends the dramatic tale of how you fended off a bear and a wolf with an apple?"

Gaston's face flushed again, and he spoke through his teeth;

"I already told you, it was a diversionary tactic."

"Oh, I know that. It's just rather funny to point it out."

"It's called being resourceful, Beast. And I'd like to see you do better."

"I'm not denying it was a good idea. But who'd have thought apples would be useful in so many life threatening situations?"

Gaston looked sideways at him, reluctant agreement crossing his face.

"Consider it my weapon of choice. But if I had my actual weapons I'd have been unstoppable back there. Don't doubt that, Beast."

Beast smirked. The prospect of Gaston's unwavering confidence, and then that he was so capable with his weaponry, didn't entirely worry him anymore. In fact, it was almost an ideal right now, given their situation.

"I don't doubt it."

Beast realised, as soon as the words had left his mouth, that he'd garnered a certain respect for the hunter.

Though surely it was only natural, after all that had happened?

Beast hadn't expected Gaston to come back for him on the fields, and the incident still hung there, unspoken between them both.

The hunter had not said a word about it, save about how he'd driven off the wolf with the apple. He didn't seem interested in explaining why he'd decided to help the Beast (again), and truthfully Beast did not need explanation right now. He was happy to let the unspoken moment continue on as it was, if only because it seemed like Gaston might be dealing with it far better that way. Rather like how he didn't speak about the sleeping bear incident either.

For all of this, the hunter really was turning into a surprise, and Beast found he wanted to know him better for it.

"So, besides impressive apple-handling skills, what other strings can you add to your bow of many talents?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

Beast shrugged innocently. "Well, I know enough about your hunting skills. But, erm," he pretended to consider the sky. "Ever read a book, for instance?"

Gaston looked momentarily put out by the question, but composed himself just as fast;

"I already told you. I don't like reading," he snorted. "And what use has a hunter for fairy stories, anyway?"

"Fairy stories?"

Beast barely stopped himself from laughing, and Gaston caught his tone with a warning glare.

"Look..." Beast hastily continued; "Not to be presumptive, but I imagine your idea of books to be very...limited," he worded it as tactfully as he could. "I mean, books don't have to be all about one single subject, you know."

"I know that," Gaston said waspishly, and kicked a stone out of his path.

"I'm quite fond of adventure books myself. And at a push, when I read with Be-" Beast stopped himself with an abrupt cough. "...I mean, even genres I've never thought I could enjoy, I did find myself liking, in the end."

Gaston huffed as he clambered up another rocky point, batting a tree branch out of his way. "'Genres'?" he said, like he was testing out an unnatural word.

"Yes, you know. Like action, romance, horror. That sort of thing. They're all called different genres," Beast took a moment to catch his breath, and to try and temper the ache in his leg again.

Gaston stopped in his tracks, apparently having noticed it.

He looked Beast up and down, as though observing something he was reluctantly interested in.

"We'll rest," he decided, after a moment.

"I don't need to stop, it's fine to keep going," Beast stepped forward, to prove the point. The pain seared right through his leg, severe enough that he stumbled.

"Sure you are," Gaston leaned smugly back against a tree, folding his arms. "It's understandable. I know not everyone can keep up with my incredible pace."

"Right."

Beast sat down anyway, the weight leaving his limbs with a grateful relief. Gaston slid down opposite him, and dug an apple out of his pocket with a disgusted face. He tossed it at Beast's feet.

"Here, you can have it."

Beast picked it up with a short smile. It had seen better days and was becoming overripe. "You're not hungry?"

"I'm starving. But I'll never eat another wretched apple again in my life, I swear."

"Did you know an apple a day is supposed to keep the doctor away? Or something like that."

"I think you need to see a doctor more than me," Gaston said. "And I think apples are better at stopping savage beasts from killing us, personally."

"Agreed," Beast chomped into the fruit. It tasted okay, considering everything.

Gaston stretched his arms around his head and leaned properly back against the tree. His poise was relaxed in a way that the Beast had not seen before.

"I suppose...if I had to pick, I like the sound of action stories," the hunter said after a moment, as if the question had always been hanging there, waiting for his answer.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Something with lots of battles and sword fights...that sort of thing. Action."

Beast nodded, it made sense.

"You know, your stories are very much action stories. I mean, technically, whatever you tell the people in your tavern, is a story."

Gaston glanced at a rock, as if it were far more interesting.

"I suppose you could see it that way," he combed a hand through his hair, which was still dirtied and tangled with mud. When he looked back at the Beast it was with a vague awkwardness.

"Since when did you know it was 'slain'?"

"...huh?"

"'Slain', not slayed, you said. What are you, a school-educated Beast too?" he snorted with the words.

"I would have hoped that was obvious. But yes, I am educated," Beast paused. "It was necessary...for my line of work."

"You had a job, too? Wow, this curse really did destroy your life, didn't it?" Gaston's tone was flippant, but he looked at Beast curiously.

"Yes...it really did," Beast felt sick with the admittance.

Of course he'd had more than enough time to come to terms with it, but hearing someone else say it, so starkly, brought it all back into terrible perspective.

Truly, without Belle, he had been a hopeless case.

He attempted a smile, which was more to quell Gaston's questioning face than anything else.

"You wouldn't have guessed it, would you?"

Gaston just looked away again with a small frown, and rubbed an arm over his forehead. There were little beads of sweat on his skin, and for the first time, Beast realised he was probably just as exhausted as himself.

Gaston exhaled heavily. "I must admit...it's a hard thing to swallow, Beast."

"Belle had the same-" Beast stopped himself too late, cringing with the words.

Gaston was still frowning at something else though, as if he hadn't even heard him.

When he glanced back up at the Beast he looked like he was trying to work out an intricate puzzle. With it, Beast somehow recalled Belle's own face, bizarrely mirroring itself in the hunter for that single moment.

It was like a reminder of what he was, and how anyone would have reacted to a Beast.

Of course it was only natural, only normal, that anyone would think the worst of him. It was a harsh lesson; humans had tendency to judge everything by outward appearance, regardless of what might be within.

Gaston had done so, just as Belle initially had. And, before all of that, the Beast had done it himself, perhaps even more cruelly.

Beast realised he could not entirely blame Gaston for whatever he might think of him. It was...exactly what he would have felt, before all of this, before the curse.

"...Beast?" Gaston said, tired impatience on his face. "what about Belle?"

"I..." Beast glanced between his paws and the ground, before locking eyes with the hunter again.

He couldn't really judge Gaston's character, but there was a thread of something new there. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, and a want to believe that things might get easier between them, at least until they found their way out of this mess.

Whatever it was, he could cling onto it for now.

"Gaston."

Gaston sat up a bit straighter. "What?"

Beast took a breath.

"Belle...understood me. But only because she had a chance to get to know me," he paused in consideration. "I can't expect anyone else, including yourself, to share her kind judgement, not without being given the same chance. It isn't fair."

Gaston's eyes widened fractionally, but he didn't say anything.

Beast carried on, if only because he needed to get it out of his own mind;

"If you say you came to my castle with intentions to protect your town, and your friends, then...I do believe you."

He held his breath for a long moment, feeling his words might pop and splinter above both their heads, and then damage something important.

Gaston quickly averted his eyes to the ground, and his mouth formed a line of distaste, like he might be recalling a memory that was rather too unpleasant. Eventually, he blinked back up at the Beast, his expression smoothing into something determined. Something that the Beast recognised far better on his face. He was even mildly comforted by it.

"Are you alright to move again?" Gaston did not sound concerned, but his eyes betrayed his voice.

Beast stood up, experimentally putting some weight on his troublesome hind leg. It still throbbed a bit, but it was bearable. He nodded at the hunter.

"I think so."

Gaston mirrored the nod, mouth curving up as he stood. "So, let's try and find that damn stream. I really need a drink."

Beast wanted to laugh. It was an odd relief, even if he hadn't gotten any sort of reassuring answer out of the hunter at all.

8

The hill began to steepen dramatically, making the climb far more of a proper hike. As well as that added effort, the clear path was eroding, until there was only rock and bumpy grass mounds to navigate through.

Through all that inconvenience, Gaston kept up his irrelevant but reliable stabs at conversation. He complained about the usual things; like an empty stomach, the state of his clothes, but also went on to recount even more of his various hunting trips in great detail. Beast didn't mind it.

"...there was one time, myself and LeFou got caught in a confrontation between two bears. Well, actually it was LeFou. Luckily I was around to save him."

"Lefou?" Beast queried, hopping over a rather steep curve of rock.

"Yes, my good friend," Gaston said. "he's fairly useless. I don't know what he'd do without me."

"Lucky him," Beast said with a note of sarcasm.

Gaston turned back with a practised glare; "What? I've saved his sorry behind countless times, when we were out hunting."

Beast was tempted to counter that, just for the telling way Gaston berated his 'good friend', but he stopped himself, noticing the affection that had reached Gaston's voice, and then his face too. It seemed genuine, and not with intended malice.

"Anyway, do you want to hear about the two bears or not?" Gaston said, rather grouchily.

Beast smiled to himself in some amusement. "You're lucky I enjoy action stories so much. Or else I don't think I could stomach the rest of this climb."

"You're lucky I'm sharing them. This is usually the stuff of legend and song, you know."

"I feel so privileged."

The bear story turned out to be fairly impressive, though Beast wouldn't admit it out loud of course (as if the hunter needed yet another ego-boost). Gaston had rescued LeFou from the two bears completely unarmed, and had improvised their escape with bravado and plain stupidity (although Gaston had termed it 'guts').

"After that little incident, Lefou always looked up to me," Gaston finished, and looked pleased with himself.

"Hm. I'd imagine literally, too."

Gaston grunted, as he hauled himself up an awkwardly angled ledge.

The climb was heightening to a degree that required more concentration than either of them were feeling particularly capable of. Beast could feel the strain in his hind leg again, even if he'd somehow pulled level with Gaston, and they were climbing side by side. Besides that, the cover of trees and shrubs was becoming scarcer.

They reached an especially jutting edge together, and Beast pulled himself up first, feeling tiny rocks crumble past his gripping claws.

Gaston blew them out of his face in some irritation, pulling himself up after.

"Sorry," Beast said, and then his foot started to slip.

The ground gave way so completely beneath him that he was sure he was falling, but somehow his flailing reach found the next ledge, and he clawed onto it through grinding teeth. As he lifted himself up, he remembered Gaston, and turned around just in time.

He snatched the hunter out the air, grabbing him tightly around his wrist, before he could fall. Gaston's face flashed momentary gratitude, and then he gasped painfully, as Beast pulled him the rest of the way up and onto the safety of the next grounding ledge.

The hunter sat forward on his knees, hissing through his teeth and clutching his wrist where Beast had caught him.

"Are you okay?" Beast asked in alarm.

Gaston flinched at the words, but nodded, his face quickly becoming unreadable. He stood up, a hand circling around his gloved arm like it might be irritating him.

"I think I can hear water."

Beast couldn't hear any, but he wasn't about to contend it. Gaston seemed eager to keep moving forward and forget the small incident. The determined stance he took didn't really leave any room for argument either.

And as it turned out, he was right about the water.

A small brook was flowing through the hill, just beyond a clutch of trees. It barely reached above their ankles, but it was something.

Gaston dropped to the ground first, scooping up water and drinking urgently, hair falling messily in his eyes, though he didn't seem to care. He splashed water on his face and then began pulling off his hunting gloves to wash his hands.

Beast turned away at the same moment, taking his time to drink and realise just how much his throat had been burning and needing it. Slowly he placed his injured leg into the waters, allowing the coolness to subdue the pain somewhat.

"Does it feel any better?" Gaston asked, as he pulled his gloves quickly back on. He was watching Beast neutrally.

Beast nodded. "Yes, I think so. Perhaps we can rest here for a while, though."

Gaston was already standing up, scoping the place out with alert eyes. He pulled a thin stick up off the ground and tested it's pointed end, stabbing it lightly in and out of the earth.

"Alright," he said reluctantly. "But I'm going to have a look around. See if I can find something to eat."

Beast watched him go, hearing the heavy tread in the hunter's feet that gave away how tired he really was. Despite that, it was probably easier, maybe some sort of coping mechanism, for Gaston to be doing something, and Beast wasn't about to stop him if his main objective was food. They did need it.

"I'll come along," Beast started, but Gaston shook his head at him.

"Stay there. I won't be long."

He didn't indicate anything otherwise, but Beast caught the meaning in his words. It didn't make much sense to try and help the hunter with an injured leg. As useless as Beast felt in that moment, he knew he'd be even more of a hindrance to Gaston when it came to catching food.

He sighed, peering back into the trickling stream, to find his own reflection rippling sadly at him.

When he looked back up Gaston had already disappeared into the trees.

8

Gaston kept to his word, and wasn't very long. He came back with a despondent face but a bundle of stuff in his cape. He chucked it near to Beast, and Beast poked into it to find a whole bunch of different berries.

"You'll have to get used to a meat-free diet, Beast. Unless you give in to that killer instinct of yours, and decide to eat me."

"Well, you did say you were very edible, if I remember rightly."

Gaston shuddered. "I take it back. I'd be disgusting."

"You'd be delicious," Beast assured, and picked up some of the berries with a careful paw. "Are you sure these aren't poisonous?"

"Not at all. But I did eat quite a few on my way back. I might tell you if I start to feel like I'm dying."

"Very comforting," Beast grimaced, and thought about the last time they'd eaten berries, in a rather similar, careless sort of way. He chomped down on a handful. They tasted good, not too sweet. "At least they're not apples."

Gaston nodded, and leaned back against a tree with a yawn. He looked at Beast with a critical face.

"Beast, I've been thinking."

"Congratulations. Isn't that rather dangerous, though?"

"Probably," Gaston didn't argue it. "but seems I've been doing a lot of dangerous things, lately," he hesitated, turning his gaze to the grass, and started picking at it. "Anyway. I was thinking...that perhaps, I won't try to kill you when we get out of this place."

"Oh, how considerate of you," Beast struggled to hide his incredulous laugh.

Gaston glared, but it was more irritated than angry. "Look, I still don't have to like you, Beast. But..." he rubbed his temples, as though finding words had become the most gruelling task in his life. "...I know...you're not...completely terrible, now."

"'Not completely terrible'," Beast pondered the words. "Must be the most vague compliment I've ever received, I'm sure."

He still wanted to laugh, but he could also see how Gaston swallowed, as if he'd just admitted an entire myriad of emotions he'd never even known he had before. In a strange way, it was endearing.

He was actually trying.

"You're not completely terrible either, Gaston."

Gaston blinked at him, confused emotions vying to meet his features. Then he picked up a clump of grass in his fist, throwing it with half-heartedness in Beast's direction.

"You'll probably be wolf-meat before we get out of this place anyway, Beast."

"And you'll be the desserts."

"Hardly. I'd be a real delicacy. They'd be lucky to have me."

"I thought you said you'd taste terrible?" Beast snorted, and grabbed a few more berries to chew on.

"I say a lot of things," Gaston shrugged airily.

Beast shook his head, in mock-despair.

Afternoon had turned quickly into evening, and he could feel his eyes getting heavy. Even so, he didn't really want to sleep just yet, if only because he was sort of enjoying his company for once. How odd it was. And then finding the hunter watching him with a far more amiable expression was even odder.

Beast liked it though.

"What're you thinking? How delicious I might taste?" Gaston said, a gleam in his eye. "Tell me if I need to get myself another makeshift weapon, Beast."

Beast scoffed. "you don't have any apples left. I think you're rather helpless to save yourself now, hunter."

"Never helpless, Beast," Gaston spoke through another yawn, and then closed his eyes.

8

Beast awoke to a soft padding sound, like rustling leaves being parted underfoot.

He immediately sat up, and after a few short seconds noticed the shadowed figure of Gaston. He was pacing back and forth only a few meters away, near to the trickling brook. Though it was very dark, Beast could catch sight of his agitated face against moonlight, and there was some blood on his hunting gloves.

"You're awake?" the hunter said, noticing Beast.

"...yes, just about," he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Isn't it a bit late-"

"Couldn't sleep," Gaston interrupted, rather too hastily. Then he pointed with his boot toe to the two rabbits that lay close to a dead fire. "And I really don't like meat-free diets."

Beast blinked, his eyes adjusting properly to the darkness, and with it he suddenly saw the sharpened and bloodied stick still clutched in Gaston's hand. The hunter was certainly resourceful with trees, Beast would give him that.

Beast smiled cautiously. "What? Can't go a day without making a kill, hunter?"

"Hardly. More like I can't go a day without decent food," Gaston's posture started to relax, and then he chucked the stick on the floor before sitting down, opposite Beast. "And I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"A thank you? I'm not picking these things up fresh out of a restaurant, you know."

"I know," Beast felt himself grinning. "Thank you."

He was grateful, and it was only when he'd started eating did he realise how starved he actually was, and perhaps Gaston was right about the decent food thing. Berries didn't really cut it.

The hunter ate more slowly, a distracted look on his face, as though he might be thinking about something more troubling. Against the dark sky his skin looked rather too pale, and there were dark shadows under his otherwise alert eyes.

Beast could see that he wasn't about to go back to sleep very easily.

"Tell me, how did you come to be a hunter in the first place?"

"Huh?" Gaston blinked, as though Beast had only just appeared in front of his eyes.

"A hunter. What made you become one?"

Gaston hesitated, like he'd been asked a trick question. "I don't know, natural talent?" he half-quipped.

Beast suppressed the want to roll his eyes. "Okay. But why did you decide to become a hunter?"

"What do you mean, 'why'? Isn't it obvious enough? I'm good at it. Really good, in actual fact."

"Yes, I know that. But what about when you were a kid? Before you were even allowed to go hunting. Is that all you ever wanted to do?"

"I don't know," Gaston bristled. "What does it matter to you, anyway?"

Beast tried a different tact.

"I'm just curious. I was never...I mean...I was more..." he searched for a word which might not offend the hunter. "...scholarly?"

Gaston seemed to gather the possible implications anyway. "Do you think I'm too stupid to do anything else?" he asked, flatly.

"What? Of course I don't. Don't be stupid."

Gaston raised a brow, and Beast winced. He wasn't exactly helping his defence.

"Listen, hunter-"

"No, you listen, Beast," Gaston huffed out an agitated sigh. "To hunt is to earn a living in my town. And I provide for my town by doing that. And as for your 'scholarly' interests, what use are they in the real world? How will you ever survive on books if you're caught alone in the wilderness...like now, for example?"

Beast shook his head. This was no good, Gaston was missing the point of conversation, and more than that he was getting angrier.

"Alright. Have it your way, hunter."

"I will," Gaston said defiantly.

"Good."

"Good."

The silence turned sour, and for a short while the only sound was the sway of wind through trees and the faint trickle of the brook. Beast was touched with guilt, for some ridiculous reason. He had hardly meant to offend Gaston. If only the hunter wasn't always so defensive, and didn't take everything so personally...

"Anyway," Gaston said suddenly, his voice faltering with some unknown emotion. He stared at what was left of his dinner. "It's not like my village allows much time for scholarly thought, Beast. If you must know, schooling in general isn't up to much, where I come from," there was a hint of resentment in his tone, when he looked at Beast again. "And I don't care to know how you were educated, but I'm guessing you had the easy means for it."

Beast opened his mouth to argue the point, but besides the fact that it'd give away far too much of himself (and it really wasn't Gaston's business), he also had the uncomfortable realisation that Gaston was right.

He had always been a privileged being, of course he was. He was a prince.

"But Belle was not one to let her town discourage her," he bit the bullet, and decided to bring up the sorest but most obvious point, all at once. "She still reads books, and she's from your town."

Gaston seemed caught off guard by that, but he shook his head.

"That's because she's..." he looked about, as if trying to physically pluck the appropriate word out of the air. "...Belle." he finished, rather uselessly. "...Belle is different."

"She surely is," Beast smiled with the thought of her.

Gaston offered him a wary look.

"You really do like that about her, Beast?"

"Of course...don't you?"

Gaston leaned back a bit, something uncomfortable flashing across his features.

"I don't..." he tailed off, voice fading in a rare moment of complete and utter uncertainty. Then he shook his head roughly and turned away from the Beast. "I'm going to sleep now."

"Okay," Beast nodded, watching the hunter lie down. "Goodnight."

Gaston grunted in response as he turned over. There was quiet for barely a minute, before he spoke again;

"I take it back, Beast."

Beast blinked at his back in confusion. "What's that?"

"Books do have their occasional uses in the wilderness."

"...oh?"

"Yes. They burn incredibly well on a fire."

Beast groaned. "Resourceful, I suppose."

"You know I'm right, Beast."

And Beast conceded, but only with a very small and very private smirk that the hunter didn't need to know about.

"Goodnight, Gaston."

"...night."

Another gentle rush of wind swayed and coaxed the nearby trees into movement again, creating a soothing sound through the leaves that was intent on lulling them both off to sleep.

Beast kept his gaze on the hunter's back, and eventually fell into a sleep that was easy, for the first time in a while.

8

"I wonder what we'll find on the other side of this damned hill. Hopefully a decent tavern."

"Or familiar ground?" Beast suggested.

"Home or drink," Gaston pretended to choose. "Let it be drink. A hero's welcome can wait til after."

Beast snorted. "and what will they be celebrating about?"

Gaston looked at him with a devilish face. "the fact that I exist is cause enough, don't you think?"

"Hm. When you put it like that I can hardly fault your logic."

They'd started out early that morning, greeted by a surprisingly cool breeze reminiscent of the chilly forest nights. Gaston took lead (as he was want to do), and Beast tailed behind, listening to the hunter talk about taverns and fine foods and wants to get back home to his own beloved tavern.

Another small relief was that the hill was beginning to peak, and with it the slope was becoming flatter and far easier to climb. Even so, Beast was finding the pain in his injured leg worsening, and had resorted to walking on all fours to take the pressure off a bit.

He was always very reluctant to do so these days, especially since his encounters with Belle, and remembering what it was to be human, with manners and gestures that matched. Somehow returning to four legs felt like he was devolving, becoming more animal. Even stranger, he was absurdly self-conscious about it in front of Gaston, even if the hunter didn't seem to notice it, nor even comment.

"I am a man of few faults," Gaston told him, obnoxiously.

Of course, it helped that the hunter was apparently too caught up in himself to notice stuff like that. Beast was quite thankful about it, really.

"Ah. So you do have them. A few faults, I mean?"

Gaston looked thoughtful. "I suppose...I am a little...too faultless, sometimes."

Beast snorted. "Faultless to a fault?"

"Exactly, Beast," Gaston stopped for a moment, tapping mud off his boots.

Beast caught up to him, and waited near his side.

Gaston looked at him with an odd smile. "And what about your faults, Beast? I mean...besides the more obvious ones."

"You're so flattering."

"You know what I mean. I'm guessing you haven't always been so kind and gentle."

"Well, no." Beast admitted to the ground. "Of course I wasn't."

Gaston seemed to detect his hesitation with a smirk, and the look pushed Beast's own indignation. It couldn't be helped.

"If you must know, I have a lot of faults. I mean, it's the entire reason I was cursed to be this..."

Gaston's mouth curved up some more.

"...way," Beast finished lamely.

Gaston looked triumphant.

"I knew it. You're not a beast at all, are you? I mean...you are a beast, clearly. But...you weren't always that, were you?"

Beast swallowed down a wave of nausea that caught in his throat, for whatever reason. He glanced to the side, unable to look the hunter in the eye.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please. Give me some credit, Beast."

The hunter did not seem to be gloating, or even like he was enjoying the idea of making Beast uncomfortable anymore. His expression was imploring, like he hoped the Beast might just tell him for his own piece of mind, and nothing else.

Beast looked reflectively in front of them, and then back at Gaston.

"Who do you think I was?"

"Hm. I don't know who you were..." Gaston clear eyes sharpened with a concentrating gaze that Beast felt almost too exposed by. As if all his former life secrets had been laid out bare for only the hunter to see. "...but I'm sure I know what you were."

Beast swallowed some more of his nerves. He did worry about what the hunter might think of him, if he ever did find out, and then the consequences of that. Perhaps he'd see him as even more competition against Belle, if that was still the end goal? It might just make the hunter more determined to kill him, and resent him even more, for that matter.

Beast wondered why it even mattered. But it did seem a shame at this point, since they were sort of getting along at last.

In any case, Beast was realising he shouldn't underestimate the hunter. He was smart in his own way. Not particularly subtle in his thinking, and caught a temper very quickly (something Beast didn't feel he had any right to criticise), but he did have practicality and common sense on his side. And, contrary to all Beast had predicted, there seemed to be a noble and even thoughtful streak lurking somewhere inside of him too.

Gaston finished kicking the mud from his boots, and he eyed Beast with a careful sneer.

"What now? I know I'm beautiful, but it is rude to stare, you know," he was being sarcastic, but it made Beast splutter.

"You are unbelievable."

"It has been said, many times," Gaston nodded, and took the lead again.

"I'm sure."

As they neared the peak of the hilltop a cool chill wrapped around them, making Beast shiver with the change, despite his warm fur coat. He glanced at Gaston, who was rubbing his arms against the wind, but didn't look too bothered otherwise.

He even turned to the Beast with a brighter face; "It's all downhill from this point, Beast! Thank the lord."

The note of enthusiasm was contagious, despite everything. There was no telling what might be over the other side of the hill, but Beast was spurred on, forgetting the ache in his leg for the first time, as they finally reached the peak.

Beast looked over their scenic surroundings with a strange mix between awe and dreaded disappointment.

There was no end in sight, no convenient signs or even a winding path that might direct them into familiar territory.

But still it was all very beautiful.

High-rising mountains and rich valleys, covered in shades of green, and trees scattered so far as the eye could see. The mist that had been so prevalent the other day had completely cleared, and the sky was as clear blue as Beast could easily recall the hunter's eyes.

He turned round, to find Gaston looking about too. The cold wind whipping about his dark locks might've given him an heroic air, but with it he wore a completely despondent face. His shoulders seemed to have sunk, and he turned to Beast with a harsh frown.

"There's nothing," he growled, stomping a boot hard into the ground.

"What were you expecting?" Beast asked, trying to keep the mood light as possible. "a tavern and a good night's sleep waiting for us?"

Gaston's frown deepened.

"I don't know...something. This...this cursed place seems to go on forever," he blew out a frustrated sigh. "I'm sick of it."

Beast turned back to observe the trail ahead of them with some empathy. Even if it was beautiful, it was still unknown, and it didn't look like they were going to see the end of it any time soon. Besides that, Beast didn't like the thought that the hunter might lose whatever obnoxious enthusiasm he'd gathered in recent hours. He was getting used to it.

Beast blinked down, where the hill ebbed into deep forest. There was a pretty, yellowish haze in the air, which seemed to make the edges of the trees glow.

"We just have to keep walking. Let's go."

But Gaston wasn't looking at him anymore. He stood very still at the top of the hill, back turned to the Beast, as if he might be absorbing the landscape properly for the first time.

Beast gave him a questioning look.

"What's this? I thought you didn't have time for appreciating nature and all of that-"

"It's snowing," Gaston interrupted, his voice softer with disbelief.

"What-?" Beast followed his gaze, up into the sky.

Thick flakes were falling down, dotting the ground in a cover of white.

The wind curled around them some more, carrying flakes around their faces. Beast could already see the powdered white catching Gaston's dark lashes and hair. They both just stood and stared between each other for a while, stuck somewhere between shock and awe.

Eventually, Beast offered Gaston a wry look. "like you said, all downhill from here, right?"

The hunter seemed to recover himself, and he brushed past Beast with a sullen face.

"If we don't freeze first," he reached back, briefly yanking Beast's cape forward. "Come on."

Beast sneered after him; he could feel the snow already thickening under his feet. He dropped onto all fours, walking a few short steps ahead of Gaston. The wind picked up, and he walked a bit closer to the hunter, catching the gusts before they might reach him.

Gaston didn't say anything, but his own sneer faltered, and then fell away completely.

As they walked, the blue skies began to flood white, and Beast returned the hunter's grim smile.

88

Chapter Text

88

88

The hill was covered in a blanket of white before they'd barely begun to descend it. It was as though the seasons had changed from a balmy and unbearable summer to a cruel winter within just a matter of minutes.

Gaston was not surprised.

If the forest was teaching him anything, it was that he shouldn't be so disturbed by such things as magical season changes, healing waters or even Beasts that talked as if they weren't really Beasts at all.

It wasn't even the physical strain that concerned him anymore. He could handle a few cuts and bruises, no worries. Even an empty stomach at a push, and the cold wind barely registered against his skin. No, there were some far more pressing distractions to deal with right now.

The Beast walked a little way ahead. He moved on all four of his paws, but it didn't detract from his immense size. If anything it just enhanced it, reminding Gaston of how powerful he truly had the potential to be.

There was an almost majestic air to his movements. Something graceful, even. Gaston could admit that.

"Tell me, how many fleas do you get in that coat of yours?" he asked conversationally, instead.

"Shut up, hunter."

Gaston ignored him. "It must be very annoying."

"I'm flea-free, actually. And you're far more annoying."

"So you are properly domesticated, then?"

"Yes. I expect you'll soon be too, give or take ten years?" Beast wondered.

Gaston could feel his smirk turning into a proper smile.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been properly refuted about anything, because very simply, everyone usually agreed with him.

When he thought about the welcoming character of his town, and all the people who'd be so happy to see him again, he couldn't really think of anyone who might believe otherwise.

Except Belle, of course.

Oddly, she seemed to be the closest comparison to the Beast Gaston could imagine right now. She hadn't put up with plenty of what he said, albeit she had dealt with it in a far kinder manner, he was starting to realise.

But the Beast didn't seem to care whatever he told Gaston, and even if Gaston had expected that, he hadn't expected he might come to tolerate it.

It was...different. Just to hear a voice that wasn't like an echo chamber of mindless agreement.

It was most likely the heated climate of the hilltop they were climbing down, coupled with his own weariness, causing his brain to fog with such wild thoughts; but he thought that maybe in another life, they could've even have been friends.

Maybe.

"Are you saying you're not yet domesticated, hunter?"

"Beast, your attempts at humour are pathetic, at best."

"Did I say I was joking?"

Gaston scraped up a handful of snow, flicking it carelessly at the Beast's huge mane of fur. The snow exploded into powdery bits, and he turned round with an indignant glare.

"What?" Gaston held his hands up, feigning innocence. "Just target practice."

He watched, in some horror, as the Beast began gathering up a particularly large clump of snow in his great paws, and lifted it up to throw.

Gaston backed up too late, and was hit squarely in the chest with the king-sized snowball. He landed on his rear, and spluttered through snow flakes.

"You are dead."

The Beast laughed, and it was rich with a warmth that Gaston had come to guess was harmless.

He jumped to his feet, and focused on pelting him with as many snowballs as he could muster, before he was served another ridiculously huge one.

The fight was brutal (in so far as any snowball fight could be), and it was also some odd relief. Gaston didn't think he could find his chest heaving with a laugh that wasn't complete scorn for the Beast, but here it was. And more than that, the Beast had laughed too.

For just a few demented moments, as he ran down the hill, Gaston forgot about their entire predicament.

The air cut a significantly colder touch as they slowed down, and with it a hazy mist began to descend upon them.

Gaston winced as he reached down to gather up some more snow, his hands protesting against the cold. A shiver rushed up his body, and he braced himself against a sudden wind that whipped against his face like an icy slap.

Then he noticed the print in the snow, and he forgot irritating thoughts of frostbite all at once.

It was a paw imprint, large and padded, and Gaston recognised it immediately for what it was.

"...Beast-"

"We better keep going...it's getting worse..."

"What...?" Gaston blinked up, the other's distant voice snapping him to confused attention.

All around him was the sudden fuzz of snow, and the Beast's figure was a greyed shadow amidst it all, his fur blowing rapidly against the wind. Gaston found himself stumbling to his feet, having to fight against the unexpected force as he reached him

"It's a storm..." he had to yell, pulling his cape tighter around himself. "...we need to find some cover."

"On a hill?" Beast squinted doubtfully through the blur of white at him.

It was difficult to see anything, and Gaston tensed as he tried to figure out which direction they'd even come from.

Through the haze, he momentarily lost sight of the Beast's figure, and his stomach tossed in a panic.

"Beast? Where are you?"

"Here, over here," he sounded close enough, and Gaston took some tentative steps, realising he was going to have to trust the Beast's voice before his own sight; the snow was far too blinding.

He took a couple more steps, nearly falling into something firm but soft.

He looked up with a start; the Beast was standing right in front of him, his face a picture of serious solidarity that Gaston didn't know he'd needed to see until that moment.

"Hold on to me," Beast ordered.

Gaston didn't hesitate.

He clung to the back of his tattered cape, and watched as he resorted to his most animal stance once again, attacking the storm on all fours; marching against a mercilessly strengthening wind. Gaston bowed his head, holding onto the cape tightly as he possibly could.

The wind was fierce, ploughing into them, and Gaston could hear the Beast panting and grunting as he fought through it. Gaston kept close to his back, shielded only somewhat against the onslaught. Fingers crackled with icy coldness, threatening to break his grip on the cape.

"...where're we going?!" he called, though he wasn't sure his voice would carry at all.

The Beast's head turned a bit, and Gaston could barely make out his grim smile.

"I don't know."

If it were possible, Gaston would have rolled his eyes. Instead he had to be content with groaning in some despair, and bracing against another gush of ice, so forceful it felt like a hand pushing hard into his chest, trying to separate him from his tenuous connection to the Beast.

He dug his boots hard into the thick snow, squeezing his eyes shut, as he tried to let himself trust that the Beast might come up with something miraculous.

Oh, he must've really lost his mind now.

And then the wind began to ebb, and the pressure against his entire body gradually began to ease away with it.

Gaston blinked, flakes of snow dusting off his face as he rushed a hand over his brow.

Just past the Beast's shoulder he could make out a small alcove indented into the hill. It wasn't quite enough to shelter them completely from above, but it looked like it might serve as a good wind-breaker, if nothing else.

The Beast made a beeline for it, and Gaston felt himself being yanked sharply forward, with a short gasp of surprise.

He let go of the cape and ran the rest of the way, kneeling into the alcove with some apprehension.

"It'll have to do," the Beast said. "At least the snow isn't blowing into us anymore."

"Lucky us," Gaston sniped, and edged a bit further back, allowing the Beast to squeeze in some more.

There wasn't much room, and the Beast was suffering the brunt of the storm against his back, since there was hardly enough space for them both to sit against the wall.

Gaston was prickled with his reluctant conscience, and scowled at him.

"Do you actually want to freeze?"

The Beast gave him a questioning look, and Gaston sighed angrily, before grabbing him by the arm, and pulling him further in.

Surprise crossed the Beast's face, but he moved the rest of the way into the alcove anyway.

They both sat in miserable silence for a while, watching the snow belt through the sky at rapid speed, occasionally swirling and creating pretty patterns with the sudden changes in the wind's direction.

Gaston hugged himself, feeling the cold properly seeping into his body; a numbness reaching his fingers and feet.

"Do you think it'll stop soon?" Beast said.

Gaston looked sideways at him. The Beast's profile was contemplative, and he was watching the storm as if it was some sad but awe-inspiring display.

"Who can tell in this damned place..." Gaston cleared his throat, hoping the Beast wouldn't notice the way his voice shook. "I mean...it was sunny only a few hours ago..."

Beast blinked, then looked down at him through fractionally wider eyes. "You're too cold."

"Great observation," Gaston tugged his cape further round his shoulders, at the same time budging further away, rather too aware of the closeness between them. "We can't all be massive fur rugs, you know."

Beast smiled a bit; "And here I thought being a beast was a curse. Suppose it does come in useful sometimes."

Gaston glared. He couldn't believe it, the Beast was actually taunting him, in some small and petty way, in the middle of a damned storm. It was aggravating, but not enough to muster much more than that, for some reason.

He shoved the Beast halfheartedly in the side instead.

"Who needs fur, anyway? Too many fleas."

"I already told you, I'm flea-free."

"I find that really hard to believe, Beast."

Around them, the sky was dimming to a purplish-blue. It'd be night time soon and too dark to travel, with or without the storm.

The Beast suddenly moved around, so that he was more or less in front of Gaston. Then he lay down, facing away from him. It took Gaston a moment to realise he was blocking the wind some more, with his huge body.

"You need the extra heat more than me," he explained, keeping his gaze away.

Gaston sneered automatically; "Hardly."

The Beast made a sound of amusement.

"Your pride will be the death of you, Gaston," and he looked over his shoulder at him. "You're turning blue."

"I am not."

"At least admit that fur would have it's advantages right now."

Gaston folded his arms tighter. "I'd rather die."

"You very well might."

"Hmph," Gaston forgot his anger, when he looked properly at the Beast again.

He still looked calm, a stark contrast to the flurry of the storm that raged in front of them. With it, Gaston noticed the tellingly emotional flash in his blue eyes, reminding the hunter of what he'd been suspecting for too long now.

There was an odd gleam of recollection there, like he could drag up a shredded memory that wouldn't make sense until it was stitched back together again. Gaston wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but he thought the Beast seemed to know it too.

It was like the sensation of knowing something as if it'd already happened. Gaston hardly knew the proper word for it, but he knew it within his mind. Like a memory that flew too quickly past his vision, before he could properly understand what it was or might even be about.

He couldn't dwell on it for too long, not because he didn't want to, but only because he couldn't remember.

"What?" the Beast had noticed his staring.

"...nothing."

"What?"

"Nothing," Gaston snapped, and then hesitated. "I was just thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself."

Gaston shoved him again in the side, a bit harder.

"I was just thinking," he repeated, more boldly, "how is it, that a human gets turned into a Beast in the first place?"

The Beast stared at Gaston, like prey caught in it's final moments.

Gaston smiled to himself. So he really had caught him.

The silence was deafening between them, even with the storm still in full swing, and Gaston forgot the cold that had crept into his body within the moment.

The steeled stare of the Beast had completely trapped him in a feeling between terror and reckless curiosity.

"Well? What is it, Beast?" he favoured reckless curiosity, naturally.

Silence hung a little longer, and within it the storm was dying down a bit, making everything else seem more exaggerated. The visible breath the Beast took as he tried to gather his composure, and Gaston could feel his own heart hammering too hard into his ears.

A strange excitement had gripped him. It was anticipation he didn't know he held so much weight for until now.

The Beast dithered, and then his expression fell into surrender.

"Listen. All you need to know is...I wasn't a good person."

And that was it.

He turned his head away, as though he'd confessed his entire life story in one tiny sentence. And Gaston was supposed to be satisfied with that.

Gaston pulled a face. "that's it? You weren't a 'good' person?" he laughed, but with bitterness. "What did you do? Murder an entire village?"

"Not quite."

"Then what? Did you kill a person?"

"You're very fixated on murder, aren't you?"

"I'm trying to see how the punishment fits the crime, that's all."

Beast offered him an oddly sympathetic look. "Trust me. I just wasn't a good person."

Gaston nodded. "You aren't a very good beast either, by the sounds of things."

"You're one to talk."

"I'm just saying. You did imprison Belle's father as a beast, didn't you?"

"He was trespassing."

"Trespassing?" Gaston repeated, and laughed, despite himself. "That's harsh, Beast."

Beast narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you imprison Belle's father too? I seem to remember that small thing."

"A really minor detail," Gaston waved it away.

Beast's frown twitched, and then turned into a sigh of resignation.

"Can we just admit, we're both not very good people?"

"I'm sure I can. You're just not a very good beast."

"Fine, whatever you like. Let's just stop talking about it now."

Gaston didn't really want to do that, but he could feel his teeth started to chatter, and the cold that had crept over his skin was sinking into him, in a way he couldn't really disguise or ignore any longer. He shuffled a bit closer to the earthy alcove wall. It was a very small comfort.

The Beast had turned away, his head low to the ground, like he might go to sleep.

There really wasn't much else they could do, and Gaston followed suite, his numbed joints feeling strange as his body touched the cold earth. He tugged his cape round his shoulders a bit more, though it didn't really help anything.

He glared at the Beast's back. Fur would have been the greatest advantage right now, of course it would.

Like hell he was ever going to admit that, though.

A shiver rattled all through his chest, and he realised he might very well freeze to death.

What a pathetic way to go.

If he had to die at all (and really he'd prefer not to) he would have liked it to have been in action, doing something vaguely heroic. This didn't seem the right way to go about that sort of thing at all.

Heroic songs did not come from the tale of a man who'd died frozen on the side of a hill accompanied by a beast, he realised, with childish distress. It wasn't fair.

His mind started to fuzz, and he wasn't sure if it was actual tiredness or the cold itself, trying to pull him into unconsciousness.

He thought he heard something, but it might've been nothing at all, and the unbearable tremble in his body distracted from anything like the proper function of his senses anyway.

Yes, he was surely going to die. And the Beast was right. Fur really wasn't so bad, after all. Fantastic.

Then there was a warmth, pressing, not too hard, against his back.

A soft pressure rested and then spread there, through his cold bones, soaking them in something much wanted, though he hadn't realised it.

An involuntary hum left his mouth; relief that shuddered harshly from his chest. Then vague mortification, with the realisation of what it actually was.

The Beast's body moved in a steady motion; comforting in it's constant and close rhythm of simply breathing, and Gaston could feel the hot breath, somewhere above his head. He didn't dare turn over, or move around, or do anything to confront it.

He was completely frozen, but in an entirely different way now.

A shadow crossed over him, and the weight of an arm rested somewhere over his hip. It should have been a violation, but Gaston's only defence was another sharp intake of breath. It was supposed to be a sound of indignation, but his shivering body had betrayed him, no matter how much he internally protested it. And really, it didn't matter anymore.

The Beast was warmth, and that was what he needed to live right now, simple as.

For that, he could discard his pride, just this once.

He curved slowly against the other's form, finding soft fur covering him like a blanket. Then another delicate weight moved over his chest; clawed fingers catching his shirt and staying there, in a tentative but definite hold.

"Stubborn creature," the Beast's voice was a murmur. Barely audible, and so close to his ear.

Gaston sighed with the words. The lulling heat making him forget his wants to shove the other away from him, or deny any of it.

He forgot all of that.

Instead he just closed his eyes, surrendering to an unexpected but much wanted comfort.

8

He had a very focused dream, in which the edges of it didn't quite exist, and if they did, he couldn't take himself out of the moment he was seemingly trapped in.

The Beast was standing at the edge of a great mountain peak, watching something off in the distance.

Gaston tried to walk, but his feet were sluggish and unresponsive, in that irritating dream-state sort of way. He tried instead to focus on whatever the Beast was looking at, and he could just about make out the silhouette of a castle.

It looked similar (maybe it was even the same) as the Beast's castle, only it sat atop a hill, and it looked far prettier. White and gold with angelic statues on it, that had replaced all of the hideous gargoyles that Gaston could barely even remember.

"Beast," he tried to speak, but his voice was hollow and too quiet.

The Beast turned round anyway, and there was a strange but warm smile on his face.

"I didn't think you'd come this far," he said. "How are you?"

"What?" Gaston said, or tried to say again. He still couldn't make a sound.

How annoying.

"Ah. You must be very tired. I'm sorry," the Beast did look apologetic. Then he turned, and started walking away.

Gaston tried to follow him, but his legs were useless. He may as well have been stuck in mud.

"Wait," he said, just as uselessly.

Of course the Beast didn't hear him, and he disappeared beyond the mountain and out of sight.

Gaston cursed, but when he blinked again he found he wasn't on the mountain top at all anymore.

He was somewhere in the forest, and the heaviness had left his legs.

"So you made it," said the Beast's voice again. He sounded different, but not in a way that Gaston couldn't recognise it was him.

He looked around, trying to find the voice's source.

Then he noticed the figure standing against a tree. It's details were obscured by shadow, but clear enough that Gaston could tell it was a grown man.

"Hey," he started toward it, and the figure turned away. "Wait," Gaston told him. "Wait just a minute!"

He ran, reaching out to catch it by the shoulder.

Before the figure turned, it's voice was clear;

"Don't move, Gaston."

"Huh?"

Gaston froze in place, eyes locking with the other's, and taking in the visage of a man he thought he knew, but only for a second.

"Don't move," the man repeated.

His voice echoed about the forest, which made no sense in itself. Gaston whirled round in some confusion-

"Don't move..."

8

"...shh. Don't move."

Gaston woke with a start and tried to sit up all at once. There was a pressure firm across his chest though, keeping him in place.

He let out a sound of protest, in part fear, and then surprise, when he looked down to see it was the Beast's huge paw pinning him there.

"Sssh. Be still," his voice was close, and still very quiet.

Gaston scowled, mortified thoughts about his compromised position crossing his mind. He pushed them aside with some difficulty.

"...what is it?" he hissed.

"I heard wolves. I think they're near."

Gaston forgot anything to do with his embarrassment.

"... wolves? Where?"

"Close. I saw a shadow against the wall. I think they might have caught our scent already."

Gaston blinked up, where the fading moonlight cast against the alcove wall. He thought about the imprint in the snow, and privately chastised himself for not saying anything about it before.

He felt the pressure on his chest relax a little, and with it he exhaled sharply.

"What should we do?"

"We should run," said the Beast.

Gaston's heart dropped. "Are you joking?" he felt the other shaking his head.

"If they've already caught our trail we're dead anyway. Better to move now and get a head start, don't you think?"

"I think you're mad."

"We don't have any other choice."

Gaston sat up, shoving the Beast's arm away from him, and doing his best to keep his temper and his voice down. He turned round to properly look at the Beast. "Might I remind you that you're the one with killer jaws and fangs?"

The Beast snorted, but his face was understanding.

"It won't be easy, but the storm is still going."

Gaston raised an incredulous brow. "Is that actually supposed to make me feel better?"

"It gives us some more cover, at least."

"Yes, but..." Gaston trailed off, and looked bleakly past the Beast, where the storm was still vicious, and maybe it really was their only chance.

He shook his head, trapped between despair and the idea that he was actually considering this a proper and viable plan.

A weight settled on his shoulder, claws pressing against his skin, firm but warm. The Beast spoke softly;

"I promise I'll look out for you," his expression was steady and unyielding, his blue eyes kinder than Gaston had ever known them.

Gaston found he couldn't argue it, and then that he might even believe it.

He'd trusted the damned creature enough times already. It made very little difference, now.

He pouted at the ground, anyway. "Alright, Beast. Fine. But if I die, I shall kill you."

The Beast's paw fell away, and his mouth became a small smile.

"That's fair."

They both stood in unison, and Gaston felt the twinge of protest in his limbs with some extra reservations. He wasn't going to be able to run as fast as the Beast anyway, but especially not with the remnants of cold still lingering there.

As they stepped out of the alcove, the storm hit them all at once, and Gaston shielded his eyes, giving the Beast a resentful look.

"I hope you know I don't agree with this. At all."

The Beast's smile did not hide his apprehension.

"I know. Let's go."

8

They ran at full pelt downhill, kicking up snow that was thick and cruelly eager to slow them down. Gaston's chest hurt with the cold, but besides that he thought he was doing fairly well, even if he couldn't really believe what he was doing in the first place.

He kept focus on the Beast; who loped on all fours, the obvious limp in his back leg the only thing that hinted he might struggle.

It was only when Gaston allowed himself the thought that the Beast's wild idea might actually work, did he hear the howl of the wolves.

Something sunk in his chest, and he skidded, almost slipping with the need to stop. The Beast halted with him, fur spiking on end, his mouth twisted into a deep snarl.

Gaston knew something was very wrong. He backed unconsciously up to the Beast.

"...can you see them?"

"I can smell them," the Beast's ears pricked and eyes narrowly focused all around, though it was impossible to see through the grainy vision of snow. "Stay close."

Gaston nodded grimly, his body tensing and then he was desperately wishing he had some sort of weapon, besides his frost-bitten hands.

He imagined the ease at which he might be able to pick off the wolves with his trusty blunderbuss, or a bow and arrow, or even a damned apple at this point...

"Run," Beast told him with a sharp growl.

Barely a second later a flash of grey fur popped through the white sky, springing for the both of them.

Gaston spun round without thinking on it, swinging a boot out at the animal with a gratifying thump.

The wolf fell to the ground with a yelp, and then was still.

Through the rush of snow, Gaston saw the Beast's comically gaping face, and wanted to laugh.

"What? It did the job, didn't it?"

"You-" Beast said with some conflict, and then he pushed Gaston forward. "Please, just run."

Gaston laughed, despite everything, and didn't even consider if he'd lost his mind this time. Accepting it had already happened was the better solution, as he ran into a desperate sync with the Beast again.

There were more howls all around them, but Gaston couldn't begin to guess how near or far they were, or even what they were running into. His legs were like lead, and his panting was turning into ragged gasps of desperation.

He could hear more than see the Beast; his deft snarl cutting through the sharp winds every now and then, indicating that something was closing in on them.

Gaston tried to keep at his side, but he could feel himself slowing. The Beast seemed to be too, though whether that was through his own exhaustion or because of Gaston, he didn't know. In any case, the Beast stopped again, and Gaston staggered and bowed his head, trying to catch his breath.

"...did we lose them?"

Beast grunted; "I don't..."

There was an ominous growling sound, that carried easily through the storm. It told Gaston it was over.

He straightened up anyway, glaring through the snow.

Beast blinked at him, his eyes full of apology. "this is no good...we're going to have to face them."

"...what?"

Gaston had barely chance to comprehend the words, before the wolves were upon them.

They came from from all sides; huge grey bullets shooting through the white sky, and then circling them like land sharks.

Gaston stumbled, his back pressing up against the Beast's, as they found themselves likely and trapped prey.

"...hah..." Gaston jeered through his panting, wiping a hand over his brow. "They're like little puppies..."

He tensed, half-crouching on the defensive, as the wolves started to close in. He could forget his fear when his blood was pumping like this, fuelling him with an adrenaline that cancelled out anything to do with his nerves (or some might call 'common sense').

It was a small part of what had driven him in the battle against the Beast on the castle, after all.

"Should be...should be easy, Beast."

Beast's back vibrated with a snort. "Just do like I said, stay close-"

His voice morphed into a vibrating snarl, as two wolves came at them all at once. He flung the first away with a paw, the other with his jaws, tossing it back into the snow.

Another set of jaws reached for Gaston, but he dodged them quick enough, and in time for the Beast to deal it another blow into the air and out of sight.

Gaston set a grim look in Beast's vague direction. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome," and Beast struck down another one.

"Pretty good, Beast."

Maybe this could work. If they stayed alert and worked together, they might-

The Beast made an agonised sound, and Gaston turned his head in time to see a wolf clamped on the Beast's neck. Flecks of blood burst and dotted a vibrant scarlet across the snow, staining it all around them.

Gaston sprang up, cracking his fists onto the wolf's skull with a satisfying crunch. The wolf yelped, falling away, before Gaston and Beast recovered themselves enough to deflect another one.

They exchanged briefly grateful looks, and then Beast pulled Gaston back by the cape.

"I said stay close to me, hunter."

Gaston tugged away with a short and breathless grin; "...and let you have all the fun? Don't be so selfish, Beast."

He wasn't even sure if he was being sarcastic or not anymore.

The pack were starting to thin out though, most of them fleeing with whimpers and tails between their legs. It looked promising, and Gaston could feel his muscles starting to relax, in part relief but mostly just plain exhaustion.

Maybe they'd actually come out of this alive, and the Beast's crazy idea wasn't all for nothing.

"Beast, I think-"

He turned round just in time.

The largest wolf was springing up; and Gaston had never seen one so huge before. It's jaws sparkled saliva and it's pink tongue lolled out in a greedy anticipation.

It seemed to fly through the air, moving in slow motion, and Gaston had no doubt that it would reach the Beast's throat.

He didn't need to think, as he shoved the Beast back as hard as he could. He curved round in time to see the jaws meet his shoulder.

They clamped down in a shock of white-hot pain he had never known before in his life.

A cry rang out, and Gaston recognised it somewhere in his mind as his own.

Then there was another one, separate from himself and more like a terrifying roar that echoed and rumbled all about the hills.

Gaston sunk to his knees, trying to register what it was, but only the hot throb of agony managed to reach his thoughts. He thought he could see the huge wolf fading off into the distance, and in the back of his head he realised, hazily, he should be pleased about that.

"Urgh..." he said instead.

His shoulder felt strange, and far too warm.

"Hey, hey..." a really frantic voice.

Gaston blinked, blurry vision refocusing, and then finding the Beast right in front of him, bright blue eyes wider than Gaston had ever seen them.

"Are you alright-?"

Gaston wavered. "Yes, of course..."

He started to stand, but his legs didn't seem to want to, and there was still too much blood rushing past his fingers. He looked at them, distantly annoyed by how messy it all was, and then he dimly noticed the Beast's paws, too tight on his shoulders...

"Gaston-"

He tried to shrug the Beast away.

"I'm okay..."

Then the Beast flickered in his vision.

He met the ground with an odd calm. Ice prickling at his hot skin, a cooling sensation that crept all over his arms with some mild and very short-lived relief.

The Beast's face slid from view, and everything with it turned into pitch blackness.

8

8

Chapter Text

88

88

The air was calm with the distant twitter of small birds and a warming breeze. It seemed like the snow might already be starting to melt, inviting a supernaturally early summer that had bypassed spring completely. It was all such an impossible contrast to the chaos of moments before.

Beast might have believed it had all been some terrible nightmare, if not for all the blood, stemming into the snow and colouring it a bright crimson.

There was so much blood.

It was the only thing he could process, for a few mind numbing moments.

"...Gaston."

He knelt down, paws trembling over the hunter's gaping shoulder wound, almost too afraid to touch him.

The hunter's eyes were closed and his skin far too white, even greyish. If not for his slowly moving chest, Beast would have believed he was dead.

It wasn't fair.

This couldn't happen now, not when it seemed like things might be getting better, whatever better was. Too much had happened and it made everything different. Beast only needed to look upon the hunter to know that.

And this...this couldn't happen.

"No."

With a swift wrench, he ripped a part of his own cape off, and pressed it into the hunter's gory injury. The blood soaked through within a few seconds, staining the material dark red. Beast tried not to dwell on that, and with an unsteady paw wrapped it the rest of the way around the wound, as tightly as he could manage. It would have to do, for now.

There was still blood spreading out, close to his feet, and he couldn't waste anymore time.

Very gently, he gathered the hunter up and into his arms. He stood slowly, adjusting the weight before he began to walk. A dull pain still threatened in his back leg, but that all seemed very minor now.

Gaston was typically heavy, but not in an unmanageable way. Besides, Beast had carried him before, though in that case he hadn't been half so concerned about harming him.

He walked slower than he would have liked because of that, not wanting to disturb the injury any more than he had to.

The hill was tapering off into flat lands once again, and the outskirts of deep forest were finally coming into sight. There were far off bird calls coming from within it, like something had disturbed them from roost.

Beast paused a moment, teeth gritted and on edge with what might follow. When nothing came, he took a deep breath, and continued downhill toward the edge of the forest. He held Gaston a bit tighter against him.

88

88

"You passed out. No...don't try to move just yet. Don't."

Beast pressed a paw into Gaston's chest, stopping the hunter in a feeble attempt at pulling himself up.

"I need to redress the wound. Stay still."

Gaston groaned, his muscles tensing as he tried to raise his arms. It was an obvious mistake, and he cried out in some pain.

"What did I just tell you?" Beast growled, in more concern than anything else.

He'd managed to find a little shelter along the edges of forest at the bottom of the hill, and Gaston had woken up very soon after.

Of course it was a relief, but also a problem, because Gaston was so stubborn and insistent that he was okay when really he wasn't at all.

"...it's just a scratch," his voice was very weak, betraying his words. He sagged back against the ground, head tilting to the side, like he might pass out again.

"Of course," Beast muttered, resisting the urge the roll his eyes.

At least Gaston had finally stopped trying to resist any help, though Beast suspected that was more to do with his complete lack of strength than anything to do with a want to cooperate.

He pulled the rest of the makeshift bandaging off, revealing the shredded mess of muscle beneath it. Beast grimaced with the sight of it. The wound was still bleeding rapidly, and reached very close to the hunter's collarbone.

"It's probably going to hurt some more. I'm sorry."

Gaston clenched his jaw, and kept his eyes on him. "Okay."

"Okay," Beast repeated, in some small part to steady his own nerves. "Please try to be still. You're bleeding quite a lot."

"...I gathered that. Your face isn't very encouraging either, Beast."

"I think it looks worse than it is," he ripped up some more of his cape (it hardly mattered, it was in tatters anyway) and began redressing the wound properly.

It was difficult; his paws were too big and not made for a relatively delicate task, though Gaston didn't seem to pay it much notice. His eyes stayed on Beast's, his paling face and shaking chest being the only signs that he might be in any sort of pain.

He even made some ludicrous conversation.

"If I die...promise to tell the townspeople I was extremely brave and noble, as usual."

"I promise," Beast nodded. "and you won't die."

"...you don't know that."

"No, but I have a good feeling you won't."

"That's funny. I have a terrible feeling, right at this moment," Gaston moaned and shut his eyes, as Beast wrapped the dressing a bit tighter.

"Sorry..." Beast said, in a rush. "I think it's all done now. Hopefully the bleeding will stop soon," he forced a smile, "I suppose the wolves finally got a taste of your delectable self, hm?"

Gaston spared him a look that hovered on the appreciative.

"Must be their lucky day..." then he sighed, and it was more like a shudder. His eyes fluttered shut.

Beast stared at him, finding himself captured by a strong feeling of protectiveness for the hunter he'd never realised he could even consider for him. He snorted in some shallow amusement. So it had actually come to this; the bizarre revelation that he really didn't want his would-be killer to die.

And to think, he might've been relieved had the hunter died, only a few days earlier.

Of course he would never have killed him in malice (even if it had been tempting, quite a few times), but he'd only ever spared him out of moral obligation before anything else.

He'd known it, since the moment he'd spared the hunter's life back on the castle tower top. It was the right thing to do; to prove he would never stoop to Gaston's despicable level.

But now their levels felt more even, and Gaston didn't seem to be sinking so low anymore.

Beast shook his head to himself.

"I'm sure Belle won't believe a word of this."

He settled a paw close to Gaston's hand, and then noticed the tattered state of his hunting glove with some curiosity.

There was a rip that reached all the way up to the top of his forearm, exposing the flesh beneath it. Even though it was half-covered, it was easy to see the harsh red lines peeking through, over the skin.

Delicately, Beast wrapped a paw round the glove, and pulled it off. He slowly turned the hunter's arm over, exposing his bare wrist.

There were deep red and thick marks all around it, so brutally bitten into the skin that dried blood still caked the most tender looking areas. Beast knew at once; they had nothing to do with the most recent wolf attack.

He could easily recall Gaston's face, framed by fog and blinking down into the pit at him, with nothing but determination. The doubtless way he'd said he would come back.

And so he had.

Beast traced a paw ever so lightly over the broken skin, in a gesture of remorse. Somehow, the marks upset him far more than the terrible shoulder wound.

Gaston's hand twitched, but he didn't wake. He still looked pale, but his breathing was steadying, and even his pained expression had relaxed a bit.

Beast knew he shouldn't be so surprised about that.

This was Gaston, after all.

8

The forest trees swayed with a soothing sound, and the air was warm but not so stifling as it had been before. For once it was neither too hot nor too cold, and Beast brushed through the forest with a careful ease.

He didn't like to leave Gaston alone, but there wasn't much choice in the matter when they needed to eat eventually. He didn't much like the idea of attempting to hunt without him either, but it was another forced necessity.

His leg injury had become more of a dull ache, something that was tolerable, at least. Besides that, his attention was completely and utterly focused on his surroundings, and what he needed to do.

He thought about Gaston. The way he moved, and the calculative way he looked at things. How his weight and seemingly intimidating presence were no hindrance to his skills and seemed only to help him. How he didn't get tied down in any of the over complicated.

In an odd way, it was enjoyable. To visualise the hunter in his mind, and then, with claws curled against the cool earth, Beast felt more animal in some ways than he ever had.

It wasn't exactly a frightening realisation, for once.

He stalked and merged into thick shrubbery, before the forest briefly shrieked with a shrill sound, and then everything settled into calm once more.

Beast blinked between his kills and the glade, feeling the heat of the evening sun catch at his fur, with a tired sense of satisfaction.

It was getting late, but he had caught their dinner.

8

He returned to their resting spot to find Gaston was awake. He'd propped himself up against a nearby tree, and he looked at Beast with a surprised face.

"You've been busy," he leaned forward, wincing with the motion. "Fowl? Congratulations on your first hunt."

Beast dropped the kills on the ground, with a disapproving look at the hunter.

"You've been busy too, I see. You shouldn't have sat up," he knelt next to him, inspecting the shoulder wound without hesitation. "You know I've been on hunts before."

Gaston shrugged, and then winced again, cursing under his breath.

"I meant your first successful hunt. Don't do that," he pushed Beast's paws away in some annoyance. "It still hurts, you know."

"I told you, I was a fairly adept hunter in the past," Beast ignored him, and began carefully checking the bandaging. "It will hurt, when you insist on moving so much."

Gaston pouted in a way that made Beast want to smile, but he thought better of it.

"I'm hardly moving," Gaston said petulantly, "Anyway, I thought you were too 'scholarly' for hunting."

"Hm. I probably am a bit. I think you've finally stopped bleeding, anyway."

"Hah. Next you'll be hunting bears, I guarantee it."

Beast smirked. "I doubt that very much. Unless they come for me first."

"What a shame. We'd have made such a good team, too," Gaston lamented.

When Beast looked at him, he could see that the hunter was being only partially sarcastic.

It wasn't that strange a thought, considering everything. And it wasn't just about the hunting either, Beast realised.

Despite how things had turned out with the wolf attack, he could hardly forget how they'd defended each other, unquestioningly, back there, in a manner that could have been almost perfectly synchronised between them. If not for one single wolf (albeit a very large one), they might've escaped unscathed.

Beast finished tying up the rest of the hunter's wound with another pang of guilt. Even if it couldn't have been helped, it didn't do anything to placate his conscience. And even worse, he knew the hunter was still in pain, no matter how well he might try to hide it.

"I probably owe you some thanks for our dinner tonight."

"...oh?" Gaston's expression softened into dubious curiosity.

"Yes. I guess it doesn't hurt that I took your hunting techniques on board. ...they are quite effective, you know."

"Well, obviously."

"Obviously," Beast managed a smile at the hunter's conceitedness. At least that was familiar and expected. Dare he say, even sort of wanted right now. It was preferable to the hunter dying on him, anyway.

He noticed the way Gaston's arm slackened in his hold, like some sort of resignation to the situation. The hunter tilted his head to the side, and he looked tired and like he might go to sleep again.

"We probably would make a good team," Beast decided. "In some other life, maybe."

Gaston returned the smile, somewhat cautiously.

"Hah. I was only joking, Beast."

"Me too."

They didn't stop smiling at each other, though.

8

Beast woke in an odd position; his paws outstretched, as though he'd been reaching out and clinging onto something too dearly in a dream. Then his eyes focused, and he saw Gaston. He was standing a little way away, with his back to the Beast and a hand leaning heavily against a tree to support himself.

Beast sat up in a rush.

"Gaston. You shouldn't-"

Gaston looked over his shoulder at him, and rolled his eyes.

"I was just...you know," he patted his pants.

Beast flushed with the embarrassed realisation. "Oh, right. Are you...how do you feel?"

Gaston turned round properly, grimacing with the basic effort. He could barely move his injured shoulder, and so his right arm hung quite uselessly at his side.

"Besides like death? I've been better. What about you?"

"Not too bad, really."

"Well, you look terrible."

Beast stretched and yawned as he stood up. "Charming as ever."

They stared between each other for a long minute, and Beast wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but Gaston's eyes seemed warmer somehow.

"Do you think you can walk very well?"

Then Gaston just looked insulted.

"There's nothing wrong with my legs, Beast," and as if to demonstrate the point, he stepped past Beast, taking lead.

Beast watched after him for a moment. It was all kind of alarming. Only a few hours ago the hunter had looked like he was about to die, and now he was as eager as ever to keep moving, as if none of it had ever happened. Beast supposed he shouldn't be so surprised about that anymore.

They walked a little way; the sun glaring through the tops of the trees and casting occasional shots of light onto them. Apart from that, there was an idealistic amount of shade, and the forest felt peaceful, if still never-ending.

"We should keep moving through the night too," Gaston said, after a while.

He wasn't talking so much anymore, and Beast found he missed that (how strange). He wasn't sure if it was the effort of walking that had sacrificed conversation, but he suspected there was more to it than that.

"What?"

"Keep moving," Gaston repeated, through his teeth. "I don't want those wolves getting another chunk out of me."

"Don't be stupid. You need some rest."

Gaston huffed, but didn't say anything else.

The hunter picked up pace, until he was far enough away that Beast sometimes lost sight of him completely in amongst the trees. He thought about calling for him, but it seemed redundant. The hunter would do as he liked, and Beast knew it, as infuriating as it was.

He scowled to himself. In the end, Gaston was hardly his responsibility. It wasn't like he should even have been worrying about the stubborn hunter in the first place...

Through the glade, he noticed that Gaston had hunched over, like he might be in some pain.

Beast forgot his wandering and irritated thoughts at once. He ran to catch up to him.

Stupid, stubborn hunter...

"Hey-are you alright-"

Gaston stood back up with an exerted breath.

"Yes," he said distantly. "I just found this," he turned around.

He was holding a quiver full of arrows and a large bow in his good arm. He levelled the bow, so that it was pointed at Beast, but perhaps not intentionally. Beast recognised it at once.

"Is that yours?" he asked anyway, swallowing down a nauseous recollection.

Gaston nodded, and pulled the quiver up and over his head, so that it was strapped on his back. He flinched with the motion, and accidentally dropped the bow in the grass.

"Damn it..." he moved to pick it up, but Beast got there first.

He pressed the bow back into the hunter's hand.

"I can do it myself," Gaston looked annoyed, but it seemed more because of his own weakness than anything else. He attempted to stretch the bowstring out, but he could barely lift his bad arm up to even hold it properly.

Seeing the hunter struggle like that was an unexpectedly awful sight. Like watching a bird with broken wings trying to fly, knowing it was a useless effort, but trying some more anyway.

Eventually Gaston seemed to concede his own defeat though, and he blew out a frustrated sigh, the bow sagging to his side. He looked up through the trees, his clear eyes shining with some desperate emotion.

"Have we just been walking in damned circles this whole time?"

Beast followed his gaze. "I hope not."

"Then how do you explain me finding this? I lost it in the fall, remember."

"Perhaps it's another enchanted thing about this forest. Maybe it wanted us to find it?"

"Please stop saying that word," Gaston said resentfully. "it makes me feel ill."

"Enchanted?"

"Yes, that. Honestly, I think this forest just wants to kill me off," he tried to lift the bow back up again. "But at least now I finally have some decent ammunition against this nightmare."

Beast caught the bow in his paw before he could struggle with it anymore. "Here, let me try."

Gaston snatched it back with such speed that he flinched again.

He looked at Beast warily as he recovered himself. "What for?"

Beast shrugged. "It's not like you're in any fit state to use it right now."

A few seconds passed between them, in which Beast held his breath, wondering if he'd battered the hunter's pride once too much this time.

Gaston just sneered at him.

"Alright, Beast. Go ahead," he pushed the bow back into Beast's hands, then reached into his quiver to pull out an arrow, and seemed to hesitate before offering it over as well. "Let's see what you can do."

Beast stared at the weaponry, somewhat put off by it all. It wasn't that he'd never used a bow and arrow before. As a human he had a few times, but never as a Beast.

He blinked up, to find Gaston was looking at him expectantly.

"Why don't you aim for something over there?" he pointed with his good arm, to a little clearing in the forest. "Easy enough."

Beast ignored the taunt in the hunter's tone, and turned his attention back to the bow. He held it up experimentally; it felt small and insignificant in his huge paws, as did the arrow. Perhaps it would be easy.

He frowned as he raised the arrow to the bow, slotting it into the rest, and squinting through the too-bright greenery and filtering sunlight in front of him. He was far too well aware of Gaston too, and could easily imagine his smug face, like he just knew he was going to mess up.

Beast closed his eyes for just a second, as he stretched the bowstring back, and let the arrow go.

He watched, in quiet embarrassment, as it flitted jaggedly through the air, before disappearing from sight into the high tree tops.

"That was pretty bad, Beast."

"I didn't say I'd be any good," Beast glowered.

But Gaston's smirk was light and easy, not half so cruel as Beast had expected.

"You need to relax."

The hunter deliberated a moment, and then stepped forward to meet him. There he pulled another arrow from his quiver, before placing his good hand decisively on the bow. He raised it up again in Beast's grip, to try and meet his taller level.

"Keep it in that position. And don't point your feet...paws...whatever they are, like that."

Beast nodded, slowly re-positioning himself. "like that?"

"No, like this," Gaston moved his own feet in demonstration, and then seemed to reconsider Beast's entire body with a thoughtful frown. He crossed his arm over to better reach Beast's shoulder, and pushed it, so that it was far more perpendicular to the bow. "Now you can focus your aim easier."

Beast nodded again, though his attention was far less focused on his target, and more on the sudden intrusion of his instructor and his familiar scent. The hunter's gloved hand curled very briefly around his paw, as he steadied the arrow.

"Remember to relax," his voice was calm and close, and Beast felt the curve of a chest meeting his own as he stretched the bowstring back, if only for a second. "Keep it steady. That's better."

Beast blinked down at Gaston, and found the hunter looking at him with a purely pleased face.

Beast couldn't help his own smile at the sight of it, as ridiculous as it was. It was unfair, how appealing Gaston could look, when he was just smiling and nothing else.

For a second, they were both just looking at each other, and the proximity was so that Beast could see and even begin to count the dark lashes on the hunter's eyes, and then catch the varying shades of blue within those eyes.

Gaston blinked, and then took a sharp step back. He roughly cleared his throat.

"...okay, now shoot. Before you snap the damn string."

Beast jumped with the return of his senses and focused quickly ahead, although his mind was oddly jumbled with nerves. He pulled the bowstring back far enough that it began to strain, before letting it go.

The arrow sailed cleanly through the air, and landed only a little way past the target clearing, into some shrubbery.

"A bit better," Gaston said.

"It was much better, and you know it."

"Hm. It was okay. For a beast, I suppose."

"I'll assume that's supposed to be a compliment."

Beast wandered through the trees, retrieving the arrow and setting stance far more naturally this time. Keeping Gaston's words so clear in his mind, he let the arrow fly through the trees again.

And again. And again.

With each shot he could feel his aim getting a bit better, and the occasional critical words of the hunter kept breaking into something that could have been encouragement. It only made it more exciting.

Exciting. He could have laughed at the idea of it all.

Dare he even consider, this was actually kind of fun?

The last arrow soared swiftly through the trees, catching against leaves and branches; it landed in the very centre of the clearing. Beast couldn't contain a beam of pride.

"Hey, I think I've got it..."

He trailed off, looking back around for Gaston, only to find he wasn't there.

Beast's chest tightened in a moment of panic, before he spotted the hunter a few feet away, lying in the grass.

He was sprawled out on his back, amongst violet flowers and dried dandelions that were scattering seeds all around him in the gentle breeze. He blinked slowly up at the sky.

Beast dropped the bow on the floor.

"...are you okay?"

"Fantastic. Just enjoying the view."

Beast sat down near to him, unable to hide his apprehension. "Do you feel dizzy? It's probably the blood loss-"

Gaston pushed his paw away with an irritated scowl.

"Don't, Beast," but he didn't argue the point, and sighed unevenly, only confirming Beast's concerns.

"That's okay, we can rest a bit," he stretched out properly into the grass.

"I don't need to rest, Beast. But since you insist."

Beast smirked. "I do insist."

He looked up, seeing the dots of light that were shining through the trees around them, and giving occasional glimpses of brilliant blue skies and powdery white clouds.

"Tell me one of your stories, Beast."

"Huh?" Beast blinked at the hunter. He was still watching the sky, his face unreadable. "My stories?"

"You're always saying you read a lot. So tell me a good one. Something I'd like."

Beast attempted to recover his surprise, and process the strange request. "...hm."

"Can't think of anything?"

"I'm thinking. There are many books, you know."

"I know," Gaston sounded amused.

Truthfully, a story did spring to Beast's mind almost immediately, at least when he thought about the hunter. He deliberated it in his mind for a moment though.

"Have you heard of the goddess Artemis, by any chance?"

Gaston furrowed his brows. "Artemis? You mean...like a Greek tale?"

"So you have?"

"I only recognise the name."

"Well, she was a great huntress, especially good with a bow and arrow."

"A huntress?" Gaston said disdainfully.

Beast was not very surprised by his reaction. "Yes. She took some pleasure in turning another poor hunter into a deer."

"That's...unfortunate."

"And then she watched him be torn to shreds by his own hunting dogs. Imagine that."

"I am," Gaston tilted his head, to face him. "Beast, I thought I asked for something I might like?"

Beast shrugged, enjoying his comically disturbed face. "Sorry. I just thought you might appreciate a story about a hunter."

Gaston looked conflicted by the point, then he turned his frown back to the sky.

"...she was good with a bow and arrow?"

"Yes. Maybe the best," Beast wondered if he should elaborate. Gaston didn't seem too enamoured by Artemis, but then he wasn't exactly telling him to stop either.

"Well. Those wolves wouldn't have stood a chance against me, if I had my bow and arrow," the hunter said. His voice was bitter.

"I'm sure," Beast agreed.

He could see the glistening sheen of sweat that coated the hunter's skin, and the way he gritted his teeth and braced himself with each and every tiny movement he made, like it was all a terrible effort.

"I'm sorry about what happened...with the wolves, I mean. It was a stupid plan, really."

Gaston looked at him with a raised brow, then his mouth cracked a smirk. "You're right, it was stupid. And you should be sorry."

"You're so gracious."

"I am," then Gaston paused, and shook his head hastily. "But it's not like we had any other choice...you were right about that, Beast."

"Are you actually agreeing with me about something?"

"Only barely," Gaston scoffed. He attempted to stretch out his arms with a grimace.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're handling being mauled by wolves a bit better than I did. Before all of...this, I mean."

Gaston glanced at him again. "Since when were you ever mauled by wolves, Beast?"

"Since not so long ago, actually."

"Aren't you full of surprises?"

"Hah. I can assure you my life wasn't always so action-packed. At least not until I met a couple of interesting people."

Gaston seemed to understand the implication, with a guarded intrigue.

"You mean, this all happened when you met Belle?"

Beast hesitated automatically, as he guessed he always would with the mention of Belle around the hunter. "...yes. I had to try and save her from them."

Gaston blinked, his frown turning into complete confusion. Then he twisted round slowly, propping his head up in his hand so that was properly facing Beast. He stared at him.

"You saved Belle?"

Beast caught his gaze awkwardly, "She saved me, really. It isn't...I mean...she left my castle after some...unpleasantness."

"She actually tried to run away from you?"

"Well obviously. It wasn't exactly love at first sight, you know."

Gaston snorted, shaking his head up at the sky. His disbelief had softened into something else though.

Beast paused, considering Gaston with a weak smile. "I think that's when she might have decided that I'm not completely terrible, too."

"Ah. And you only had to save her life. That figures."

Beast nodded, and felt himself returning the hunter's short grin, in a very real moment of unspoken understanding between them.

Gaston blinked at him with an unusually thoughtful face, then.

"What is your name, Beast?"

"...what?"

"Your name. I assume that before the curse people didn't just go around calling you 'Beast' all the time? Or perhaps they did? I don't know anything about your deviant past, really."

Beast groaned, an urge to shove the hunter back into the grass passing through his thoughts for a moment, when he caught the way he was still grinning. Then he sobered up, realising he hadn't told Gaston his name at all, and actually he'd never even told Belle such a simple and obvious thing.

The idea of telling it now, and to Gaston of all people, felt kind of backwards. Even some odd betrayal to Belle herself. And yet at the same time, it seemed only natural, given the eager way Gaston was watching him...

"Well? What is it? Philip? Edward? Perceval?"

Beast pulled a face. "Do I look like a Perceval?"

Gaston shrugged; "I don't know, perhaps?"

"You're-"

Before Beast could finish the sentence, something rustled through the trees in front of them, accompanied by a low growling sound. Beast sat up in a hurry, and set wide eyes on the creature hanging back under the shade of a tree stood directly opposite them.

It was a huge bear, and far bigger than the couple they'd encountered days before. It's teeth flashed, but perhaps more in warning than attack.

Gaston scrambled upright.

"How did we miss that?" he grumbled, and clutched his shoulder through a pained curse.

Beast automatically moved in front of him, not taking his eyes off the bear.

"Keep quiet. It might leave us be."

"Hah," Gaston sounded sceptical, but he did lower his voice to a murmur, and budged a bit closer to Beast. "You're far too optimistic about this place."

"Stand up, slowly," Beast told him.

The bear was watching them, but nothing else.

Beast didn't know whether it was a good sign or not, but he'd take anything which didn't involve teeth and claws as a positive at the moment.

He waved an arm back as he stood, somehow finding Gaston's own. He gripped the hunter's wrist shortly, if only for his own reassurance.

"Move back. Right now."

Gaston muttered something inaudible, but did as he was told. Beast followed after, and then felt the press of something in his paw.

He blinked down to find the bow in his hand, and Gaston looking up at him with a tensed expression.

Beast shook his head. "I can't use that."

Gaston rolled his eyes. "It might be your only shot. Literally."

"Then it'll have to wait for another time."

Gaston made a sound of frustration and then snatched the bow back. For a second Beast expected he was going to use it himself, but instead the hunter lowered the weapon, his eyes widening fractionally ahead of them. Beast followed his surprised gaze.

The bear was walking slowly away from them, back into the undergrowth of the forest.

"That was...unexpected," Beast said, after a few moments.

Gaston nodded. "Very. I never expected you to be right about something."

Beast glared at him without really meaning it, and then nudged him forward.

"Shut up. At least we're still alive."

"An actual miracle. Like me, really."

Beast nudged him again, kind of wanting to laugh. Then he caught sight of something glinting in the grass.

It was the arrow he'd shot earlier, shining against the angles of sunlight that spotlighted it. He'd almost forgotten about that.

He picked it up, and dropped it into Gaston's quiver with a pleased smile.

"You're something, that's for sure."

8

The sun was starting to set, and with it the sky looked like it was on fire. Gaston walked ahead, though his pace was unsteady and Beast could hear him breathing harder than he should have been. Every now and then he thought the hunter might stumble, but he always recovered himself before it might happen.

Beast took time to play about with the bow and arrows, since Gaston didn't seem to mind. His aim was getting better, zeroing in on various tree trunks at all sorts of odd angles.

One of them skimmed rather dangerously past Gaston's shoulder, and he turned round with a glare that wasn't especially threatening.

"Sorry," Beast murmured, wanting to smile.

"You don't look it," Gaston looked around, more preoccupied with their surroundings than anything else. Beast could see that he was on edge, and more than that he clearly needed to rest.

He took a decisive step, and pressed the bow back into the hunter's hands.

"If I promise not to nearly impale you with another arrow, will you take a little break?"

Gaston looked between it and Beast, as if seriously deliberating the pros and cons of both the options. Then he leaned heavily back against a tree trunk, his shoulders sagging like some huge weight had suddenly been lifted from them.

"Fine," he slid down onto the floor, wincing with the way his shoulder jarred against the tree. "Not that I put much faith in your aim at the best of times, Beast."

"Let's hope we never have a best of times, then."

Gaston's smirk was soft, and he shifted, so that his arms rested against his propped knees.

"So, Beast. Tell me more about this sadistic huntress. Did she turn all of her poor victims into deer?"

Beast settled onto the ground, opposite him. "Oh yes. And far more things, besides that."

"Hm. Was she very beautiful?"

Beast considered. "I suppose she was. She was a goddess, after all."

"That would explain it, then," Gaston realised, with a knowing face.

"Explain what?"

"How she charmed all those poor hunters into her clutches. Or something devious like that."

"Is that so?" Beast tried to hide his amusement.

"Of course it's so. Those sort lure you in with their beauty," Gaston scowled, though he seemed more fed up than annoyed. "How is anyone supposed to resist something so devious?"

Beast nodded, feigning compassion. "Oh yes, beauty. Truly devious."

Gaston shook his head, ignoring the sarcasm. "I don't expect you to understand. Since beauty apparently loves the beast."

Beast smiled weakly. He knew exactly what the hunter was getting at. In a way, as absurd and self-entitled as the hunter's self-pity was, Beast was still touched by how hung up he might still be about Belle.

What strange revelations. And self-pity didn't really suit him. At least, Beast did not like seeing it.

"Is it really so bad? I'm sure you have your pick of any other beautiful women, fawning all over you in your town?"

Gaston's miserable face turned into vague interest.

"You think so?"

"I'd even assume so."

"Why?" Gaston's mouth curved up slightly.

Beast grimaced. "Please don't make me say it."

"...say what?"

"I'm sure you've heard it a thousand times over, hunter."

"Well, yes," Gaston looked at him with an intent face. "But...it's more interesting coming from you."

There was a beat of silence between them, in which Beast wondered about the glint of curiosity in the hunter's clear eyes, and how seriously he should really take it. Gaston didn't give anything else away, his mouth still quivering a strange smirk, almost like he was daring him to say it, before anything else.

Beast leaned back, distancing himself from an odd and embarrassed feeling, with a snort.

"So, you're very handsome. Do you want a medal or something?"

Gaston's smirk broke into a grin, and somehow it made the confession worth it.

"A medal would be nice," he said, and then his eyes narrowed.

He looked at Beast with a level of scrutiny that was almost too uncomfortable, as if really observing him for the first time in his entire life.

"Were you a handsome person, Beast?"

Beast felt his cheeks heating up, and thought fleetingly about strange things. Like if Gaston might think he was handsome at all, if he ever did see him in his human form.

Like that really mattered, anyway.

"...what kind of question is that?"

Gaston shrugged. "I was just wondering. Anyway, I still need to know whether you'd look like a Perceval or not."

Beast glared; "I'm not a Perceval. And don't worry, I'm sure you're far more handsome than me."

"That isn't very shocking, Beast," Gaston rotated his bad shoulder testily, and then flinched again.

"Stop moving it."

"I can't," Gaston said sullenly, and slumped back against the tree. He folded his arms. "All this sitting around is killing me."

"Walking around will probably do the same," Beast pointed out.

Gaston closed his eyes, perhaps in way of admittance. "Anyway, that huntress wouldn't dare turn me into anything."

"Why ever not? Too in awe of your good looks?"

"Well, besides that," Gaston opened an eye and looked at him wearily. "I've got a beast on my side, too."

"Hah," Beast was privately warmed by the words, even if he'd pretend to dispute them to the hunter himself. "I'd imagine she'd turn us both into helpless lambs first and be done with it."

"That's ridiculous. Besides, I'm too charming. She'd be too busy falling in love with me."

"In your dreams, hunter."

"Oh, I hope so."

The night fell around them with a few dots of stars and an almost full moon. The air was warm and even cosy, but more than that, there was a quiet ease between Beast and the hunter that Beast hadn't known before. It made Beast forget his concerns about the forest, and what might be lurking within it, if only for a little while.

He watched as Gaston lay down rather awkwardly on his better side, and closed his eyes. He did a good job of hiding his discomfort, but Beast was never fooled.

He moved over, pulling off what was left of his own ragged cape, before draping it over the hunter.

Gaston blinked slowly up at him.

"Are you going to start telling me bedtime stories next, Beast?" his sarcasm was faint with sleepiness.

"Hah. Only if you insist."

Gaston closed his eyes again.

"Mm," it was a non-committal answer, one way or the other.

Beast made the decision for himself, and settled down into the grass.

"There was a time when Artemis took revenge on a king, for hunting and killing one of her most favourite deer."

"...did she turn him into a deer, too?"

Beast grinned, more to himself, because Gaston didn't bother to open his eyes again.

"You'll see."

So he continued, even though he knew that Gaston wouldn't remember a word of it tomorrow. That didn't matter, Beast realised, as he watched the hunter turn onto his back, sighing deeply as he fell into sleep.

Beast pulled the cape over him a bit more, and briefly caught the hunter's outstretched hand in his paw, replacing it neatly back on his chest.

"Artemis was quite a vengeful goddess, so you see..."

The unusual warmth of the forest seemed only to invite the story, and Beast talked and talked until his eyelids were heavy, and then he was moving in dreams about yellowed fields and hilltops.

Somewhere at his side he could hear the voice of the hunter, and it was welcomed.

88

88

a/n: lamb reference to an au tumblr post I couldn't get out of my head.

Chapter Text

88

88

"Beast? Beast, where are you?"

Gaston stood up with a groan, attempting to ignore the fluctuating pain in his shoulder and then the dizziness that followed, making him sway and see black dots around his eyes for a few seconds.

His mind was foggy with the fragments of a dream about the huntress Artemis, and something to do with the Beast telling him about her. Or perhaps that had all actually happened, though he couldn't really remember anymore. Much of yesterday seemed like a blur between pain and random conversation. In any case, he was grateful that the dream hadn't been anything too horrifying. Every other one he'd been having recently made him look at the Beast with a tight sensation in his own chest, and he couldn't easily forget it.

He rolled his bad shoulder again, biting back another groan. It wasn't so bad when he stayed still (as the Beast had implored him to), but it wasn't like he could afford that luxury for very long either.

"Beast?" he called again, trying to keep the rising concern out of his voice.

The forest was bright with morning sunshine, and rays of it filtered through the trees, highlighting the wisps of pollen and seeds that floated through the air. The leaves glowed translucent, giving everything a dreamy sort of aura.

Gaston blinked, noticing that his bow and quiver were gone in a panic. He stumbled, and looked around wildly, before spotting the tufts of brown fur caught against tree branches. They formed an experienced hunter's trail in front of him.

"Damn Beast," he rolled his eyes, pushing a hand through his hair. He began to follow the trail for a short while.

He found the Beast standing on a large rock in the middle of a clearing. He was stood so still, and looked completely lost in a concentrating gaze. The stretched back bowstring was poised so precisely in his paws, as if he might release it at any moment, to reach something that Gaston couldn't quite see.

His view was in profile, and he'd not noticed Gaston at all.

There was something very striking about the sight, and Gaston realised he quite liked it, somewhere at the back of his mind. He smiled faintly, and folded his arms, leaning back against a tree to take it in completely.

The Beast released the bowstring, and the arrow sailed off into some shrubbery. He made a huffing sound, turning his head away in brief annoyance, before moving to collect the arrow back up again.

Gaston pushed the rest of the way through the trees to meet him.

"What were you trying to get?"

Beast spun on his feet, his ears pricking and eyes widening when he saw Gaston.

"Oh...nothing, really. I was just practising."

"Hah, I see," Gaston knelt down, picking up the rogue arrow for him. "You're still holding yourself kind of stiffly, though."

The Beast looked him up and down with a careful face. "Are you feeling much better?"

"Stop asking that. It's very annoying."

Beast shrugged. "I didn't want to wake you," he gestured to the bow. "Didn't think you'd mind me using this too much?"

"I do mind, but I suppose it doesn't matter," Gaston didn't mind at all, but he enjoyed watching the Beast squirm a bit. "You looked like you were having some fun with it."

"Yes. You're turning me into a proper monster, I'm sure."

"No, I think you're far too soft for that."

"You're probably right," Beast placed the bow back in his hand, with a wry smile. "You know, very recently I was even feeding small birds out the palm of my hand."

Gaston was not very surprised anymore.

"Sounds wonderful," he said sarcastically.

"It was," the Beast looked wistful, head tilting up to the side so that the sun caught his face at an oddly pleasant angle. "Just remembering what it's like to know some things aren't so repulsed by me..." he trailed off, and then looked embarrassed by such an admission.

Gaston opened his mouth, wanting to say something biting, but then found he couldn't think of a single word. Looking at the Beast in that moment made it impossible, anyway.

He pushed the bow quickly back into Beast's paws.

"You keep it for a while. You were right. I'm no use with it right now anyway."

Beast's face softened appreciatively. A smile curved onto his mouth.

"Hunter, I might even have you feeding small birds someday."

Gaston shoved him in the chest, not very hard. "You're deluded."

"I like to call it optimistic."

"Let's go, Beast."

"Okay, okay," and the Beast laughed as he turned around, leading the way.

Gaston didn't really mind for once.

He was tired in a way that made him feel permanently drained, and his shoulder felt like it was on fire too much of the time. The only real consolation was that he didn't feel like he might be about to pass out anymore.

Every now and then he felt the Beast looking back at him, and then pausing and lingering at his side, like he expected he might fall over or even drop dead. It had been irritating for a while, but now he was starting to forget about it. He barely flinched as Beast took his arm when he almost did fall a couple of times.

It wasn't exactly one-sided, either.

Gaston found himself watching the Beast more often than anything else, especially since he seemed to have gathered an enthusiasm for the bow and arrow. He was shooting the arrows off into various directions, and proving an often impressive distraction (not that Gaston would ever tell the Beast that bit).

His only real distraction was the Beast after all, and he was ridiculously glad about it. Watching and then talking to him was becoming...easy.

Of all the things to be glad about.

He raked a hand through his hair; it felt tangled and slick with sweat and blood, and he realised he must look as terrible as his body currently felt. Maybe the Beast's concern was warranted, if not really wanted.

"What's the first thing you'll do?"

"Huh?" Gaston blinked out of his thoughts. The Beast was looking at him expectantly.

"What?"

"When you get back home, what's the first thing you'll do?"

"Oh. Take a bath," Gaston said, without really thinking about it.

Beast chuckled. "Good plan."

"Are you saying I need one that badly?"

Beast barely missed a beat; "You want me to be honest? Yes, you really do."

Gaston stepped awkwardly over a jutting tree root, then found the Beast closer to his side for a moment, a paw hovering near to him, but not quite touching him.

"You're not exactly smelling of roses either, Beast," he said, and pushed the paw away anyway. "Besides, I'll probably need a strong drink way before a bath, by the time we get out of here."

"Glad you have your priorities straight, hunter," Beast grinned. "And you'll need to make an appearance for all those fawning admirers of yours."

Gaston nodded in short appreciation when Beast pulled a huge branch out of the way for him.

"Do you think that I have some sort of harem waiting for me?"

"It wouldn't surprise me a bit."

Gaston laughed. "I think you've gotten the wrong impression of me, Beast. I'm a perfect gentleman about that sort of thing."

Beast raised a brow, and then he did look surprised. "You mean you haven't...?"

"What? You think I'm sleeping with every young woman who throws herself at me? I'd be dead within an hour."

Beast spluttered, and shook his head.

"Hunter, you might be the most arrogant creature I've ever met," he said it as though he was congratulating him for it.

Gaston didn't mind, and he smiled at him. "I try my best."

He let Beast catch his arm as they both scrambled down a sloping mound of earth. Beast stayed close enough, as Gaston caught his breath and tempered the flare of pain in his shoulder.

"What about you, Beast?" he ventured, to distract himself from it. "Didn't you tell me you were adept at courting? Or some other such nonsense," he didn't really expect a proper answer. "I mean, before you were turned into a Beast, of course."

The Beast looked at him with a faint grin. "Didn't you suspect I'd been with plenty of partners as a Beast too?"

"I was young and naive back then."

"This was only a few days ago."

"Exactly. I was younger. And naiver."

Beast snorted. "'Naiver'?"

"Shut up. And answer the question."

Beast's grin split a bit wider. "Shut up and answer the question?"

"Do you really want another arrow in your back?" Gaston pushed the Beast forward, halfheartedly. "You know what I mean."

"Alright," and Beast seemed to seriously consider the question, his bright eyes searching around the forest, like he was recalling some imaginary faces flashing up in front of him. "Ah, I would think perhaps...there were rather too many of those."

Gaston flushed in some surprise at the answer, though he wasn't sure why.

"...oh? So you had your pick of the ladies too, then?"

"I guess I did," Beast sounded reluctant. "In my...line of work, it was a natural 'perk', shall we say?"

Gaston stopped walking, and stared at his back; "your 'line of work' sounds kind of sordid, Beast."

Beast's eyes widened.

"No, no. I don't mean in that way..." he looked mortified. "I mean...I suppose I was in a position where I could afford to pick and choose whoever I wanted, that's all."

"'That's all'? Sounds a charmed life to me."

"I only really courted people," the Beast frowned. "I mean, with dances and such, there was a lot of opportunity for that sort of thing."

"Dances?"

"Yes, you know, formal dances. I suppose I'm still a romantic at heart," he paused, and seemed to catch himself with a roll of his eyes. "Why am I even telling you this, of all people?"

Gaston smirked. "Because I'm the only 'people' about, and I want to know."

"That's true," Beast looked resigned. "The point is, I didn't really have any feelings for those...potential partners. Not until..." he trailed off.

Gaston didn't need to ask him to finish; he could tell by the way the Beast turned away from him, and suddenly it was all completely unspoken and understood between them.

Belle was like their first and most unintentionally cruel common ground.

Gaston thought he could recognise the emotion that crossed onto the Beast's face now, whenever he thought of her. It was like a want for something that might be nearly unattainable, or even impossible. Gaston could recognise that.

And maybe that was the real lure. Or whatever it was that passed for attraction.

He'd always liked a challenge, and Belle was certainly that.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if that was all it ever really was. Perhaps when he finally caught her, it wouldn't even matter anymore.

He blinked back at the Beast, suddenly doubtful that he would ever have had those same thoughts or reservations about Belle.

For the first time, he didn't feel any real resentment with the thought of it. He was still jealous in some way, but it wasn't the same thing.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Beast halted so quickly that Gaston bumped into his back. "I picked us some food."

Gaston blinked sceptically out of his wandering thoughts. "Picked?"

The Beast unfolded what was left of his sorry looking cape, revealing a bunch of mushrooms inside of it.

Gaston stared between them and the Beast for a long moment.

"Are you joking?"

Beast frowned at him. "You didn't complain about the berries too much. And these are better than nothing-"

"Beast, those are poisonous mushrooms," Gaston pulled the cape out of his paws, spilling them onto the ground. "Tell me you didn't eat any?"

Beast's horrified expression was telling enough. It would have been amusing, if not for the potential seriousness of it all.

Gaston rubbed a hand to his temples. "When did you eat them?"

Beast shook his head; "I don't know...sometime before you woke up this morning, I suppose...but how do you know they're poisonous? They look-"

"Trust me, I know," Gaston interrupted sharply, and then knelt down to look at the mushrooms properly.

They were white with black edges trimming them, and maybe to the unknowing eye they would look harmless, but Gaston recognised them at once. He looked back up at the Beast grimly.

Beast's eyes widened. "Am I going to die?"

"No, but you're not going to have a good time for the next few hours. How many did you eat?"

"A few. About ten, perhaps?"

"Ten?!"

"Hey, I'm a Beast, remember."

"You're sick," Gaston corrected, and then sighed. "If we can, we need to try and find some water, before the symptoms show. Maybe then it'll flush out the worst of it...or at least we can hope."

The Beast looked at him with curious interest, despite the situation.

"How do you know so much about this?"

Gaston blinked at him sardonically. "I love how surprised you are when I show any sign that I actually know something, Beast."

"No, I didn't mean-"

"I know," Gaston dismissed, quickly forgetting his annoyance. "Let's just find a stream or something. Because no way am I going to be dragging your impossibly huge hide the rest of the way through this damned forest."

8

The morning had stretched into a heated afternoon before Gaston started to notice the way the Beast was stumbling every now and then, and the odd gait he had taken, almost like he was drunk and couldn't walk in a straight line. Gaston was also seriously beginning to worry that he would have to carry the Beast through the damned forest.

"I feel okay," the Beast insisted anyway, as he limped over some uneven ground and almost lost his footing. "I don't-" he faltered some more, and Gaston walked a bit closer to his side.

"You look okay, truly," he said sarcastically. "...we can stop, you know."

"No, it's fine," Beast insisted, and dropped the bow on the ground with a grumble.

Gaston picked it back up. "If you insist. Now who's being stubborn," he added, in short afterthought. It didn't feel very triumphant.

He took a few steps ahead, scouring the near-distance in hope that there might be the trickle of a stream, but there was nothing in sight or even to be heard. They seemed to be too deep within the forest for anything like that. Even worse, the sun was scorching down upon them rather mercilessly.

Looking back at the stumbling Beast, Gaston felt very useless to helping him.

"Beast, we can-"

The Beast collapsed on the ground, muttering something about being fine again, despite his disorientated expression, and then some jumbled words about arrows and bears and apples.

Gaston knelt next to him. "You're not fine."

Beast blinked up, fighting to focus through a daze. "I'm okay," and he started to stand again, his huge form trembling and shivering with the effort.

Gaston knew he wouldn't quit; he knew that look well enough on himself. He gritted his teeth.

"Alright. Here, try and hold on..." he attempted to loop the Beast's immense arm about his shoulder, though even that weight was overwhelming by itself.

He tried anyway, hauling the Beast a little way off the ground, and ignoring the angry sting that met his own injured shoulder.

"Don't...you can't carry me, hunter..."

"Don't be stupid, I can do anything," Gaston reminded, but knew it was a losing battle, through his own pained panting and his buckling legs.

The Beast knew it too. He slumped back onto the ground with a groan.

"I...I'm sorry."

Gaston scoffed. "So you should be," he rubbed his hurting shoulder and then sighed, admitted to a reluctant defeat. He sat down next to the Beast, offering him a tight smile. "It doesn't matter, you can sleep it off."

Beast shuddered with an uncomfortable exhalation.

"I know you wanted to keep moving, though."

There was an aching guilt in the Beast's voice, as if he'd really let them both down, for whatever reason. Gaston was startled by it, and then even more so by the pitiful way the Beast looked at him.

"Well. I'm sure I'll get over it," he hesitated, before giving the Beast a short pat on the back. Beast blinked through his dizzied state, managing some kind of smile.

Gaston turned his attention quickly away, to the bow that was lying nearby. He attempted to hold it up above his shoulder, but was only rewarded with a protesting stab of pain. Bad idea.

"I am sorry," Beast said. He was still watching him. "It was a stupid mistake."

"Stop saying sorry. It's very pathetic," Gaston said, and then considered. "It's an easy mistake, anyway. Good and bad mushrooms do look very similar sometimes."

"How...how do you know so much about it?"

Gaston pressed his finger onto one of the points of his arrows. "As a hunter, it's good to know a lot about these sorts of things. In case you get lost in the wilderness. Things like that."

Beast smiled faintly. "I can't remember you knowing very much about poisonous berries, hunter."

"Well, I can't know everything, Beast."

"I thought you did. The incredible and most amazing Gaston."

"You're delirious," Gaston decided. "Anyway, you remember far easier when you've been poisoned by something yourself."

Realisation crossed Beast's face. "You mean you were poisoned too?"

"Yes...I think my father carried me home."

"How old were you?"

"Oh, only a young boy," Gaston frowned. "My father wasn't very happy about it, so he drilled it in to me, never to eat them again," he paused, the memory briefly becoming too vivid in his head. "You don't forget things like that."

Beast lifted his head, with some kind of understanding. "He doesn't sound very sympathetic, hunter."

"I suppose he wasn't."

"...sounds rather like mine."

Gaston blinked at him, unashamedly interested. "Oh?"

Beast nodded. "My father was rather...distant. But both he and my mother died when I was very young anyway," his tone left little room for emotion. "I don't think any of that really helped my attitude, growing up."

"I guess it wouldn't help," Gaston felt himself agreeing, though he'd never really thought too much on it before.

His own father had always been so strict, and so had always wanted the best of him. Gaston had never questioned it, nor ever really complained. It had never been a question of whether it was right or not, it was just how it was.

"Is your mother very nice?" Beast asked, and lay his head back down.

"She was," Gaston nodded, and it was on the tip of his tongue to add the obvious she's dead, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. His throat closed up with the idea.

There was never much room for sentimentality.

"Yes, she was nice," he said instead, quieter than he'd intended.

"I'm glad," Beast looked at him with a softer smile, and then closed his eyes.

Gaston watched the shaky rise and fall of the Beast's body for a few moments, unexpectedly affected by such simple words. There, he noticed the welts and injuries on the Beast too, for the first time in such detail.

He rubbed his head, hot and bothered, though not entirely because of the sun.

"We can rest a bit," he said, as if the Beast had asked him that too.

There was only an incoherent mumbling response.

Gaston leaned back, so that he lightly touched the Beast's side, and could feel the shake of breath against him. Bowing his head, in an effort to shade himself from the glaring sun, he gripped the bow a little tighter in his hand, like that might prove some sort of reassurance.

It didn't, really.

88

He was standing at the edge of that mountain again. The Beast wasn't there this time, though.

He was alone.

Everything was off kilter, as though something in front of him had been removed and he couldn't yet tell what it was. He turned around, where the forest trees parted, and the earth's scent was familiar to him once again, and made him want to run toward it.

His legs were aching though, as were his arms. It was as if he'd been walking and carrying something far too heavy.

"We're so glad you're safe, Gaston."

The voice was vaguely familiar, and so was the man standing at the edge of parting trees. Even so, Gaston didn't really recognise him; he could have been any nameless person from his home town.

Then he realised that was exactly who he was; some nameless town person, as the other nameless people came into sight. People who Gaston might've seen in passing, but had never really paid much attention to otherwise.

They all seemed so happy to see him, though.

He took a cautious step forward, and his voice caught in his throat. He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so nervous.

A hand shook his own, and then all the townspeople were gathered around him, fixed smiles and grins of complete and utter adoration on their faces. It would have been heaven at any other time in his life.

Gaston looked back over his shoulder.

The mountain top view was gone, and in it's place was a long stretch of dead woodland. Before all of that was a large bulky form lying across the grasses, near to Gaston's feet. It was mostly covered by material that flitted occasionally against the wind.

Gaston stared at it in some confusion.

"Of course we knew you could do it."

Gaston turned back round; "Do what?"

Nobody seemed interested in answering the question.

"Belle should be grateful," one of them said, instead.

Gaston blinked through the crowd, where all the townspeople's faces had become blurred and the same. Or perhaps he just couldn't focus on anything anymore...

He thought he saw her; Belle. But she was faced away from him and seemed to be walking away.

Gaston started toward her, but his feet wouldn't move, and the townspeople were smothering him in their presence, gripping his arms and making excitable chatter about things which meant very little.

He needed to get out.

"Belle-"

But she'd already disappeared, and then so had all the other townspeople.

"Belle..." Gaston's head hurt, and he sank to the ground, clutching it and swallowing the sickness in his throat.

When he glanced back up, it was all far too quiet.

Of course, the only thing that remained with him was the Beast himself.

Gaston stared at the Beast's body, the nausea hitting him again.

He reached out, his hand resting on the thick pelt with a curl of his fingers around fur.

He closed his eyes tightly, willing the Beast to wake up, even as he realised it was all just a dream anyway.

88

88

Gaston's breath hitched as he woke, the shock of the dream rippling through his mind and leaving him entirely disorientated for a few moments. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, and the panic of whatever possible danger might be lurking about them hit him all at once.

The forest was silent though, and the sky presented an even calmer companion; scattered with stars that winked around a full moon.

Gaston straightened, ignoring the burn in his shoulder, and rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the darkness around him. Against his back, he could feel the constant and soft breathing of the Beast.

Gaston twisted round to look at him properly. The Beast looked so peaceful and harmless in sleep, and the uncomfortable nausea that had reached Gaston's dream was only more pronounced in reality.

He hesitated, and then placed a very careful hand against the Beast's side, so light that he could barely detect the thrum of heat against his palm, and then the steady pound of a heartbeat there too.

"...Beast?" he murmured, not expecting him to wake.

The Beast made a rumbling sound, and turned his head away. Gaston quickly retracted his hand.

He rubbed his head, trying to dislodge the last of the dream from his mind, and then temper the worried edge that had reached his entire body. He curled his fingers, gripping the bow that had not left his hand since falling asleep. He looked at it with a determined face.

He lifted it up, so it was silhouetted against the full moon for a few trembling seconds. The effort was agonising, pain pulsating up and down his arm, before he dropped the weapon back into the grass with a frustrated gasp.

It didn't matter, he could try again.

He hauled himself up to his feet, taking the bow with him, and lifted it with a repressed groan. He angled it against his tendered shoulder, and stretched the bowstring back with the injured arm. The pain flooded up and down it, unbearable in a way that made him feel light-headed. He swayed on his feet, but it wasn't so bad.

At least this was a distraction against everything else plaguing his mind, and now even his dreams.

He took a couple of uncertain steps, and flexed the bowstring back some more, teeth gritted and better prepared for the rush of pain this time. He smiled grimly as the bowstring strained with the pull, along with the tremble of his muscles, unable to stretch back any further.

He let it go with a short gasp of relief, the painful edge fading. It was only a tiny victory, but it was something.

Gaston reached back into his quiver, finding an arrow. As he began to level it into the bow, something moved through the trees, directly in front of him.

The moonlight was strong enough that he could see the shining edges of leaves on the branches themselves, but the fragile shape of the creature amongst them shone far more vividly.

It's form wavered, enough to make Gaston wonder about his own eyesight or even his mind for a short moment. Then, as he started to focus, it's shape became something he recognised easily, and yet at the same time he'd never seen another one quite like it before.

The deer looked young, but old enough that it's antlers were becoming visible, so that it might be a great stag some day. It moved with a strange grace, as if far older than it appeared, and slipped out of sight as quickly as it appeared.

Thoughtlessly, Gaston started toward it, but was pulled back by something else at the last second. He glanced over his shoulder, where the Beast was still sleeping.

He didn't want to leave the Beast, but neither did he want to wake him either. Gaston was torn. He looked slowly around, and the quiet lull of the forest was like some kind of reassurance, telling him to go. Just for a little while.

He wouldn't be long, and a deer was a rare thing in this forest, evidentially. If he could kill it and bring it back, at least some of his bruised ego might be recovered. And the Beast might look at him with less pity and more pride...

He bent briefly down to the Beast; "I won't be long," he wasn't sure why he had to say it.

Then he pushed through the trees with an intent which wasn't just his own hunter's instinct anymore, but a strong curiosity that had reached him like nothing he'd ever felt. It was almost like something was pulling him along, into a temptation that wasn't necessarily so terrible.

He spotted the figure of the deer again; it moved like it wasn't in any hurry, ears flicking occasionally and taking in it's surrounding with a serene gait. It hadn't noticed him yet, and Gaston quickened his pace, determined not to let it out of sight as he slipped deeper and deeper into the dark glade.

The trees were huge and gnarled, full of shimmering leaves that caught the moonlight at angles which made the forest glow supernaturally, and then the lurch of the occasional shifting shadows, which made Gaston wonder if he was being watched, at the back of his mind.

His pace only faltered with the painful reminder in his shoulder, and he took a panting breath just as he reached the end of the deer's elusive trail.

It stopped at a huge clearing, and then bent it's head down the ground.

At first Gaston thought it was the odd shine of the moon against the earth, then he realised it was not earth at all; but a great lake, stretching so far beyond what his eyes could see. It shone a beautiful lilac colour, with not a single ripple disturbing it's perfect stillness.

Gaston curled his fingers tighter round his bow, and lifted it the tiniest fraction, so that it was level with the deer. His arm throbbed an angry protest, but he could bare that for now. He set his aim and stretched the bowstring back.

The deer lifted it's head and turned, seeing him immediately.

It stood as stereotypically still as a statue, and Gaston found himself caught by an emotion he couldn't place. There was a heat in his throat, and it was overwhelming, but not in a terrible way.

In the back of his mind he registered the burning pain in his shoulder, indicating for him to release the arrow, but that wasn't relevant anymore. Something was stopping him, making him doubt himself.

But this wasn't the sleeping bear. There was no Beast here, to judge him or tell him what he should nor shouldn't do; to play his conscience, or else make him wonder what was fair or unfair in the first place.

Besides, this was fair game. Why was he even trying to justify it, anyway?

Gaston sneered with the ridiculous realisation.

His hand trembled on the bow, but it wasn't just with the pain anymore.

He'd never considered himself an intruder in any forest before, but this forest seemed to be judging him as one now. In that moment, he wouldn't have been so surprised to have seen eyes blinking accusingly at him from tree trunks.

Or even a vengeful Artemis herself.

The deer blinked at him, like a moment of acknowledgement between them, then it jumped from the lake, disappearing into the dark of the forest.

Gaston let the bowstring slacken in his failing grip, and dropped the arrow on the ground. He swallowed down the burn in his throat.

Forgetting himself, he crept the rest of the way through the trees, and reached the very edge of the lake. It's surface shimmered, reflecting the moon so vividly that it looked like it might be living within the water.

Gaston blinked, and everything came back into a sharper focus; so that it was almost like waking from a dream. His senses returned (he couldn't remember them ever leaving him) and he looked at his rippling reflection in the clear waters.

He looked tired, even at best, and messy tendrils of hair curved round his face in a way that made him look so weary. More than that, the uncertainty that reflected in his own eyes was alien. He frowned, hardly recognising himself.

"Enjoying the view?"

Gaston startled with the amused voice. He turned round to find the Beast watching him with a strange sort of smile.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Beast shrugged. He walked the little way to meet him, and then dipped his head into the lake, taking a long drink. When he looked back up his expression was far more curious.

"What made you let it go?"

Gaston scowled. Long enough, then.

He turned back to his own agitated reflection again. He could see his cheeks burning.

"I didn't. It got away from me."

"Ah. That's a pity," the Beast's reflection was still smiling at him though, something that was supposed to be so irritating and yet Gaston couldn't find a good enough reason to feel it. Funny, it had always been so easy before.

He pushed a hand through his hair.

"It is a pity. It would've been a decent meal," then he noticed the bleary edge to the Beast's eyes. He turned away from the lake to look at him properly. "Do you feel much better?"

"I feel like I'm not dying anymore. That must be a good thing, right?"

"You were a mess earlier."

"And you're still a mess, hunter."

Gaston scowled. "You don't have to point out the obvious."

"No, I mean you're bleeding again."

Gaston followed the Beast's gesture to his shoulder in some bewilderment. It was wet with blood that had soaked through the caped bandaging. He hadn't really noticed it.

"...oh, that."

Beast's expression hardened a little. "Do you know how I found you?"

"How?" Gaston decided to humour him.

"By the trail of blood."

"Well, congratulations."

Beast did not look amused. "Are you trying to get yourself killed, or are you always so stupid?"

Gaston raised a brow, and decided to bypass the most obvious insult. He folded his arms. "I'm trying to catch us a decent meal that isn't poisonous mushrooms."

Beast looked sheepishly to the side; "Can't we just forget that?"

"I'm sure we could," Gaston nodded, wanting to smirk. "And I'll forget you just called me stupid, while we're at it."

"Fine."

"Fine."

The small silence between them had no animosity within it, and Beast tipped his head in way of defeat.

"I'm sorry I called you that," he said.

It roused Gaston's conscience.

"You're forgiven, I suppose. Anyway, I couldn't sleep," he admitted. It was a relief to say it, for whatever reason. "I needed to take a walk. I was having...strange dreams."

"I understand," Beast sounded like he really did. "Seems like this forest has a strange effect on us."

"That's an understatement."

Gaston suddenly wanted to tell Beast all about the dreams, for just a mad moment, and the quiet between them invited it. But he lost his nerve.

"Anyway, you should have another drink. To help with clearing out the poison," he said instead.

The Beast nodded, and Gaston watched curiously, as he moved the rest of the way into the lake, so that he was completely covered in the pretty lilac liquid, his coat shining glossily against the moonlight. He made a humming sound of relief, and looked over his shoulder at Gaston.

"Come on in. It feels wonderful."

Gaston stared between the Beast and the ground for some awkward moments, and the Beast seemed to catch his expression with an even awkwarder smile.

"It's okay. Nothing I haven't seen before."

Gaston snorted.

"I'm sure I'm like nothing you've ever seen before, Beast," he said automatically, his own wretched ego catching him unaware.

He could already feel his cheeks heating up, before the Beast looked at him with a surprised laugh.

"Is that so?" his brows raised, rather tellingly.

Gaston flushed again, but somehow managed a sneer. "You don't even know what's in that water. Could be man-eating crocodiles."

"Man-eating? Well I'm alright then, aren't I?"

"Shut up, Beast."

"And didn't you say you wanted a bath?" Beast ignored him. "Seems like the perfect opportunity."

"I can wait a little bit longer, I'm sure."

Beast shook his head, then swam over to him with an understanding grin. "Alright, I'll leave you to it."

He stepped out of the waters on all fours, and walked across the bank, shaking water from his fur.

"And I'll let you know if I spot any man-eating crocodiles too, hunter."

"Hahah."

Gaston watched the Beast for a few conflicted moments, then looked back into the lake at his own worried reflection. He hung his feet over the edge, hating his hesitation, and that he wasn't concerned about anything to do with crocodiles or whatever else might be lurking in the lake at all.

He pulled his boots off, and then his shirt with a grimace, aggravating the bandaging on his wound. Tossing the shirt aside, he rid himself of the rest of his clothes in a few decisive motions, before deliberating the waters once more.

Then he glanced back over his shoulder.

The Beast was sitting under a tree, but mostly obstructed by shade, so Gaston couldn't tell if he was watching him or not. Not that it even mattered.

"It doesn't matter, you idiot," he muttered to his reflection.

He dropped quickly into water.

The Beast was right; it was wonderful. It was cool but not too much, and it soaked against his skin like a soothing blanket.

He dipped his head under the water for a few moments, seeing greens and blues reflecting in the shallow depths and then illuminated by the reflection of the moon. As he surfaced, the first thing he saw was the moon itself, gleaming, bigger and brighter than he'd ever known it.

Pushing hair back from his eyes, he sighed, sinking down so that the water crept past his shoulders. He thought he could stay like that in the lake forever, and forget everything else.

He closed his eyes, just enjoying the simple pleasure for what seemed an age.

"Not seen any crocodiles, yet?"

Gaston blinked, turning his head to see the Beast standing on the edge of the bank. He shrunk a bit deeper into the water.

"Not yet."

Beast tilted his head, his smile wavering a bit. "You're still bleeding. Come on out."

Absently, Gaston noticed his own blood spooling from his shoulder wound, spreading thinly out across the surface of the water. "No way, Beast."

"Then I guess I'll have to come to you."

"What? No-" Gaston staggered backwards, as the Beast dipped in and swam the rest of the way to meet him.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Gaston stared between the Beast and the water. He was only grateful that it was still dark and that the water covered all of his modesty. He tried to look indignant.

"Beast, you can't-"

"Let me redress it," Beast interrupted, and then clasped his bare arm, not forcefully, but with an intent. "It'll be much easier to do in the water, anyway."

"I can do it for myself," Gaston protested, lamely.

"Don't be ridiculous," Beast carefully began undoing the bandaging. "You can barely lift it."

"Of course I can. I was using the bow and arrow earlier."

"Yes, but that's because you're insane."

"Beast-" Gaston wanted to push him away, but somehow it was too much trouble.

He suddenly felt tired, but not in a way that invited sleep.

Simply, he didn't think he could fight the Beast's help any more. And more than that, he realised he didn't really want to.

He found large paws holding his arm; checking the injury with an impossible delicacy, and a face so familiar in it's concern that Gaston could visualise the smallest details of it so easily in his mind, if he closed his eyes.

The Beast cupped some water in his paws, and offered him a bracing look, before pouring the water over the exposed wound.

It hurt, but at the same time it was needed, and Gaston felt himself slackening with the sensation. He sighed, and bowed his head a bit. He could feel the Beast's paw on his back, patting him gently.

"Better?"

Gaston nodded, and felt the weight linger there a moment longer, before falling away. He opened his eyes to find the Beast watching him again with that gentle concern.

It was puzzling, Gaston realised. To think that a creature like this had been cursed so badly. It made no sense at all.

Even as he tried to find the ghost of the despicable human lurking beneath the skin of the Beast, he couldn't see it. Instead, he found himself wondering about very small things. Like what colour his hair might be, the way his nose might turn up (or wouldn't), the shade of his skin, or the shape of his lips...

"...Gaston?"

Gaston blinked away his imagined thoughts, and nodded automatically at the Beast. "Yes," he said, dumbly.

Beast gave him an odd look. "Yes?"

"I mean...no."

Beast shook his head. "You aren't even listening to me, are you?"

Gaston covered his awkwardness with a sneer. "I guess not."

"I was just saying, it's probably a good thing you didn't catch that deer anyway. You might've been turned into a helpless deer yourself, or something else equally adorable. With this forest being so enchanted and all that."

"I told you to stop saying that word," Gaston grimaced. "And the thought did cross my mind, actually."

"Wouldn't that be a shame?" Beast let go of his arm. "I think you're all good, now."

"Thank you, doctor," Gaston had meant to sound sarcastic, but it came out more grateful.

He didn't know how it was, but the Beast made him feel alarmingly vulnerable; like he might throw up a bunch of words that he didn't even know he meant, but he must've meant them or else he wouldn't even think them...

And yet it was always a surprise to himself, whenever he did.

That was the strangest thing.

"You're welcome," Beast said, taking it as Gaston supposed he'd meant it; with genuine gratitude.

Within the short silence that followed, Gaston was suddenly very aware that he was bare naked, even if he was mostly covered by water. The Beast was still watching him, and it was like a delayed flood of mortification reaching him all at once.

"Alright, get out," he pushed the Beast back. "save me some dignity, won't you?"

Beast seemed to realise the odd situation too.

"Ah, right," he stepped quickly back, before turning away. There was a note of teasing amusement in his voice when he spoke again; "But I thought you said you were like 'nothing I've ever seen before'."

Gaston stumbled in his eagerness to get out of the water, wanting to turn a glare on the Beast, but still far more focused on getting to his clothes and covering himself up. He scrambled up the bank and pulled his pants on with a few choice curses, before turning back round to face the Beast.

The Beast was still turned away from him though, and Gaston's annoyance diminished.

"Okay, I'm decent," he muttered.

Beast turned back round, and his smile twitched into something else.

"What?" Gaston demanded.

"Nothing," Beast hauled out of the lake in a quick motion, and then he looked Gaston up and down with a shake of his fur, and a neutral face. "You look much better, that's all."

"Hmph," Gaston could feel himself flushing again.

It was strange. He was usually so good at taking compliments. He'd had plenty of practise, since he received them far more often that not, after all. It was easy to smile and nod and let grand words wash over him, since in the end they all meant very little and he heard them too much anyway.

But the Beast's words were different, and the way he said them meant far more than the way any other person might have done.

He looked at the Beast, swallowing down his embarrassment.

"I guess you look better too," he said slowly. He'd never been very good at giving compliments, really. Genuine compliments.

"What?" Beast's voice trembled between actual and feigned shock. "You mean I'm not quite so hideous as you first thought? Excuse me whilst I keel over."

"I never thought-" Gaston stopped himself hastily. "I meant...in comparison to earlier. That's not a very high bar, Beast."

Beast considered. "Well, I'll take it," he decided.

He shook the rest of the water from his fur, and they walked up to the top of the bank together.

Gaston sat down under a tree, not caring very much about how soaked he was. He felt clean, and it was a ridiculously simple but fantastic pleasure, considering everything that had happened.

He looked up, where the moon was fading into a pastel blue colour of early dawn, and the earliest birds were chirping and coming out to welcome it.

"So is that why you didn't do it?"

"What?" Gaston glanced over at the Beast. He was staring across the lake.

"Were you worried Artemis might hunt you down, if you killed the deer?" he tipped his head and his mouth curved up, when he looked at Gaston.

Gaston pulled a face. "Don't be ridiculous."

He followed Beast's gaze across the lake. There was more dense forest spreading beyond it, and through the gleams of early morning sunlight, Gaston saw the shape of the deer once more, before it was running off and vanishing into the trees again.

At any other time in his life, he might have been resentful that it'd gotten away. Now, there was only a strange settling sense of relief.

He looked back over at the Beast, and knew, better than anything else in that moment, that he was responsible for it.

As with so many other things in recent days, it wasn't an entirely unhappy realisation.

88

88

Chapter Text

88

88

Beast opened his eyes to clear blue sky and a momentary feeling that he was back within his old life. Human again, and without a single care or thought for anything. Then he remembered everything else, and he looked immediately to his side, where Gaston was supposed to be.

He was gone, but the bow and arrow were still lying there.

"Gaston?" he sat up at once.

He found him standing knee-deep at the edge of the lake.

The hunter's figure cut a defined shape, even though he was fully clothed. It was emphasised by the glow of the sun that shone down, making the lake seem to glitter all around him. His hair was dishevelled, but not in an unattractive way, and it seemed to shine as much as the lake itself.

Beast chided himself for such irrelevant thoughts, and cleared his throat.

"What're you doing in there?"

Gaston turned around, and waved carelessly at him. Beast waved back, wanting to smile.

"Checking for man-eating crocodiles, of course," he stepped out of the lake, kicking water off his feet. "also trying to find some lunch."

"Any luck with that?"

"What do you think?" Gaston frowned, and began pulling his boots back on. "I thought you were going to sleep all day. Or perhaps you'd died."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Beast rubbed his eyes.

He glanced around their scenic spot and found himself thinking it wouldn't be too tragic to have stayed there forever. If only they didn't have lives to get back to.

It was just a tiny break from all the bears and wolves and whatever else might be trying to kill them (poisonous mushrooms included), and it was like time had stopped for a little while, just for them.

"I think we'll have to cross it, somehow," Gaston was already walking along the edge of the lake, scrutinising every part of it. He'd gathered up his bow, and was angling it up at the sky with a grimace, like there might be a flock of birds coming over the horizon.

Then he turned round, and tossed the bow back at Beast.

Beast caught it in bewilderment. "I thought-"

"It's probably for the best," the hunter interrupted. "Anyway, I like watching you get angry when you miss a target."

Beast rolled his eyes, and followed him along the edge of the lake. It appeared to widen out and flow rapidly beyond them, into an actual river.

"We need to cross this?" he repeated, with some apprehension.

"Well, I'm not sure," Gaston shaded his eyes, trying to get a better scope of what was ahead. "So far as I can see, we have more forest ahead of us, surprise, and this water seems to be sloping downwards."

"Meaning?"

"It means we're moving downstream, Beast."

Beast hardly knew if that was a bad thing or not, but Gaston's exasperated face didn't particularly make him want to question it. He nodded awkwardly.

Gaston stared at him, and then shook his head as he turned away.

"I-" he hesitated. "I suppose I just expected you to know. I probably shouldn't presume things like that."

Beast stared at Gaston's back, and realised he might actually be trying to apologise. And he sounded like he might even mean it.

Something had changed in the hunter, if only subtly, since last night and the strange incident with the deer.

For one, he seemed to look at Beast more, and even smile more, and it wasn't always a malicious or grim smile either. It might have all been Beast's imagination or some other wishful thinking, but there was definitely something there.

Beast smiled at the bow, still clasped in his paws, thinking about such recent and unexpectedly warm memories.

"It's okay, hunter. I know I'm not so knowledgeable as yourself about these sorts of things."

"Hah," Gaston sounded suitably flattered. "Well, maybe when we're in less life or death type situations, I can give you a few more pointers."

"That sounds enjoyable," Beast didn't need to think about it.

Then the hunter's words properly began to sink in, and Beast wondered if Gaston realised the implications too, and whether or not any of that could really happen when all of this was over.

"But first you have to tell me more gruesome stories about Artemis."

Beast blinked back up, catching the earnest note in Gaston's voice.

"That's a deal."

"Good. I want to know how many more poor hunters she sent to some gory and completely unnecessary death."

Beast laughed, and quickly caught up to his side.

88

They'd walked only a little way before a dark grey cloud started to form in front of them, and then the rain began to follow, pouring down hard and fast. A rolling sound rumbled through the air, and Beast looked up to see the crackle of lightning stemming through the clouds.

Gaston looked bleakly back, into the forest. "Do you hear that?"

"Yes, it's a thunderstorm."

"No, not that. Listen."

Beast noticed the seriousness cast over the hunter's face, and did as he was told; ears prickling against spits of rain, straining to hear anything at all through the sudden downpour.

Then he did hear it; very faint but separate from everything else.

It was unrecognisable as anything he'd ever heard before; like a high-pitched screech, echoing from somewhere above them, and as if it were within the clouds themselves. But that wasn't possible.

Gaston looked up, paying no mind to the rain which was flooding down his face. "Perhaps we should move further back into the forest for some cover."

"Isn't that the worst thing you can during a thunderstorm?"

"Well...yes," Gaston said flatly. "But do you have any better ideas?"

Beast considered, and narrowed his eyes at the skies again. It had turned so grey so quickly, and the growing rumbles of thunder suggested it was going to get far worse before it got any better.

There followed another of those unreal screeching sounds, piercing through the clouds once again. Beast looked at Gaston doubtfully.

"Very well. But if we're struck by lightning, it's entirely your fault, hunter."

"Fair enough," Gaston nodded, rolling his shoulders in habit, and wincing with the motion. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and gave it to Beast. "Keep that on you."

Beast smirked. "I'm glad you're gaining a bit more faith in my aim, hunter."

"Desperate times," Gaston said in way of explanation. He looked back into the forest again, his mouth a line of uncertainty. "Just keep your eyes and ears open."

Beast realised, as he tailed after him, that Gaston's fear was far more pronounced than it had ever been before. It was easy to see it across his wavering face; the way his easy stride became shorter and far more tentative, the way his eyes widened and darted, and his jaw became permanently clenched, always braced for attack.

It was like watching a seemingly invincible and self-assured ego slowly but surely unravelling in front of him.

Beast walked a bit closer to the hunter, as the trees shadowed and sheltered them against the rainfall.

"I was just thinking," Gaston said, after a little while.

"You're really starting to make a habit out of that, aren't you? I'm impressed."

Gaston wiped the rainwater from his brow, and smirked weakly. "I was just thinking about the curse, Beast."

"Oh?" it was always so tempting to shut down the thought of that conversation, but Beast could tell that the hunter was grasping at and really needed an easy distraction right now. He could give him that.

Gaston seemed to sense his reluctance, and he waited a beat, in some startling sort of consideration.

"I...I was thinking, how do you break it?"

Beast looked past him, trying to focus on the fast-flow of the river that glinted through the trees. He swallowed down his unease.

"I don't think I can tell you those sorts of things about the curse."

"I know," Gaston said, with an edge of frustration. "But who's here to say you can't? And if it's something...well, never mind."

Beast looked at him curiously. "What?"

Gaston hesitated, then glared at the ground. "I just thought I could help with it."

Beast blinked, completely taken aback by the simple earnestness in the hunter's words, and the very fact that he was suggesting something like that in the first place.

And then the very idea of it...

Beast's felt himself heating up, and realised he was contemplating the hunter in an entirely different way, if only for a few seconds.

Gaston pushed a hand through his drenched hair, face flashing impatience, apparently oblivious to whatever Beast was thinking.

"Or maybe I can't help," he shrugged. "It was just a thought, that's all."

Beast cleared his throat, pushing away strangely imagined ideas in his head.

"I thought you could do anything, hunter," he forced a smile. "Anyway, do you think I'd still be a Beast, if it were as easy as that?"

Gaston stared at him, his own smile forced too.

"I don't know. I don't even know what 'that' is," he turned and started walking again.

Beast hadn't even noticed they'd stopped.

His mind was still too full of those strange thoughts, and his gut clenched in a way that wasn't unpleasant.

"...thank you for offering your help, anyway. I really do appreciate that."

"Hah. It's nothing," Gaston blinked up, through the trees, seeming to know Beast was close behind him. "So. What will you do when you get back?"

"Probably the same as you."

"A bath?" Gaston sounded disappointed. "No celebrations? Dancing?"

Beast snorted. "And how will that look? I'm sure you'll have a fine time laughing at a dancing Beast."

Gaston looked at him with nothing but curiosity. "Did you dance a lot, before you were a Beast?"

"Well, yes. It was...part of my-"

"-let me guess, your line of work," Gaston smirked. "I guessed you must be into all of that...fancy stuff."

Beast pulled a face. "Fancy?" he didn't much like the idea that Gaston might see him that way.

"I've seen plenty of nobles walking through the town in their formal clothes and silly powdered wigs. I'm sure you'd fit in perfectly," Gaston sounded like he was joking, but Beast prickled all the same.

"I'll have you know, a good formal dancer is always a hit with the ladies, hunter."

"Ah. So that's your secret?"

"I'm not that good a dancer," Beast laughed, but it sounded nervous in his own ears for some reason. "I mean...I wasn't a complete cad, Gaston."

Gaston's face was full of sceptical amusement, and he looked at Beast as though contemplating something very important.

"You must have been quite handsome, then," he decided, after a moment.

"What?" Beast glared at him, if only to cover up his own embarrassment.

Gaston ignored that, and held his gaze.

"You see, it's all in the eyes," his smirk turned into a sort of smile. "People always look at the eyes, first."

Somewhere at the back his mind, Beast silently agreed, because right now the hunter's eyes were so brilliantly blue, and it was as if everything else had been removed from Beast's line of vision. The hunter demanded his undivided attention, and without even saying a single word to achieve it.

It was easy to see how the townspeople adored their local 'hero' so much in that moment, and might be captured by something so simple as a glance, or the flicker of a smile. It was so easy.

"Aaron," Gaston said, very suddenly.

Beast blinked. "What?"

"Your name. I think you're an Aaron. You have the eyes of an Aaron," Gaston was still smiling at him, and it was the sort of smile Beast wasn't used to on him. It was a shame, since it suited him so well.

Beast smirked. "What sort of eyes does an 'Aaron' have, anyway?"

Gaston seemed to think very seriously about it, for just a second. "I don't know. But you might have them."

"Afraid not."

Gaston sighed regretfully. "I suppose I'll just have to call you Perceval, then."

"Beast works just as well, you know."

"No. I think I prefer Perceval much better."

Beast rolled his eyes at the sky; "Gaston, you're not funny-"

The words were interrupted by another sound that reached them both in a familiar and dreaded unison; a skin-crawling howl that made Beast forget everything but his panicked instinct.

He grabbed Gaston's arm, yanking him ahead.

"Ow...get off," Gaston hissed, and tried to pull away.

"Sorry," Beast said, but didn't let go of him, and pushed forwards. "We need to get out of here."

"You really don't have to tell me that, Beast."

They ran; keeping close to the outskirts of the forest, and following the rapid flow of the river to wherever it might be going. Beast could feel the sloping ebb of the ground on his feet, as they moved gradually and further downhill.

The howl was followed by another, much closer, and Beast realised they were being tracked by whatever was left of the wolf pack. He looked at Gaston with a worried blur of bloody memories.

He wouldn't let that happen again.

He pushed Gaston ahead, ignoring the hunter's angry curse, before hanging back and twisting round into a combative pose, ready to face the dark depths of the forest and whatever would come out of it.

"Beast, come on."

Beast looked over his shoulder with a snarl. Gaston had stopped, and he was looking back at him furiously.

"What are you doing, Beast?!"

"Keep running," Beast told him. "I'll catch up."

"Don't be stupid-"

"I said keep running!" Beast couldn't help it; his words turning into a desperate roar.

But he could only watch as the hunter stomped indignantly back to reach him, a hand grabbing his shredded cape and wrenching him roughly around.

"Don't be an idiot, Beast."

"Gaston..." Beast rose up on his hind legs, wanting to be enraged. But it was impossible.

He couldn't ignore the plaintive way the hunter looked at him, even in his anger.

And then Beast knew, with the faintest sneer of amusement, that Gaston was as stubborn as himself, and that he really wasn't going to move without him. He wouldn't even let go of his cape. Stupid hunter.

A roll of thunder cut through the atmosphere, and Gaston seemed to snap out of his imploring gaze.

"You can't take them all on," he said, mouth twisting a grim smile. "Sorry to bust your fragile ego."

"Hah. Look who's talking."

Gaston glared, but didn't argue it.

Somehow the sour exchange made the reluctant decision so much easier though, even as the howls around them became far too loud, and the first wolf broke through the trees and into sight.

Beast pushed Gaston in front of him anyway, and they ran the rest of the way out of the forest together, reaching the sodden river edge.

Water crashed and foamed against rocks, rippling with the heavy rush of constant rain.

Gaston turned his head, eyes alight with a fear that contradicted his strident order;

"Jump in, Beast!"

Beast managed an incredulous look, between hunter and river; "Are you insane?"

Lightning flashed, haloing and highlighting everything a sharp white for a few seconds, and Gaston's mouth curved into a sneer with it.

"Stupid question, Beast."

And then he shoved Beast roughly into the river, mere moments before snapping jaws could reach them both.

The water was so cold and engulfed Beast in an icy fist; a brutal contrast to the soothing calm of the lake he'd bathed in hours earlier. This was a torrent of waves; a storm brewing within the waters themselves, and Beast found himself fighting to keep his head above it all, as it tossed him downstream like a useless rag doll.

"...Gaston!" through splutters and flails, he twisted his head all around, trying to catch sight of the hunter.

Against a wave that forced him to swallow too much water, he saw a scrap of flesh out the corner of his eye. He scrambled and snatched it up in his arm, drawing the choking body fiercely close to him. He was only relieved when he felt the hunter curse through his gasps.

The river tossed them along, the sharp edges of rocks battering at Beast's abused sides, as he dimly realised he was going to drown.

After all that had happened, it seemed like it would have been one of the more unlikely fates. He held the hunter more tightly, trying to keep him up through too many mouthfuls of water.

The hunter was slipping out of his grip though.

"Gaston...hold on!"

There was a brutish shove against his chest, and then he realised the hunter was actively trying to pull away from him.

Perhaps it was a death wish, or some suicidal move; Beast wasn't sure what the hunter might be thinking anymore. Another wave of blue covered him before he could think too much more on it, and his limbs began to slow with an effort that felt like too much.

He closed his eyes, encumbered by a soreness that ran through his chest and made breathing seem like the most exhausting task on the earth. The edges of his vision were smudging with the sensation, turning everything grey and washed out. A dull buzzing noise reached his ears...

Then there was a harsh cry, and a violent pull on his wrist, lifting him back up to the surface again.

His fragmenting vision cleared with another gasp, chest shuddering some relief, as he whipped his head around.

Gaston was clinging to his wrist with one hand, the other one fully outstretched and somehow holding onto a jutting rock that connected to the river's edge. The hunter turned his head, face triumphant despite his tenuous hold, and the continuous rush of water that attacked him.

"What are you waiting for, Beast...grab on..."

Beast battled the flow of the waves and curved round to reach the river bank, digging his hand into the damp earth like a reckless anchor.

At the same time, Gaston's hand fell away from his wrist, and he disappeared beneath the waters.

Beast dipped his head, scooping the hunter back up and hugging him tight against his chest, before grappling the rest of the way up and onto the riverbank.

He curled his fingers into the ground, taking just a few seconds to catch his breath and appreciate dry land, before turning to Gaston, and thinking of nothing else.

He rolled the hunter onto his back, and looked at him hopelessly.

"Gaston-"

The hunter coughed and spluttered, coiling slightly onto his side.

"...are we dead?"

Beast pulled him upright, laughing unevenly through his own watery coughs.

"We're alive," he said, not caring about how ridiculous and obvious his sentiments sounded. "I can't believe it."

"...me neither," Gaston said, through another cough. He offered Beast a grimacing smile. "And I can't believe how many times I've thought that these past few days."

Beast laughed again, far more easily. His arms twitched with the terrible urge to grasp the hunter properly.

"You're insane," he said instead, and patted his back. "That idea was insane."

Gaston didn't look fazed by the comment.

"We're alive, aren't we?" he said, and stood slowly up with another row of coughs. "Anyway, I think death by drowning is preferable to death by wolf, don't you think?"

Beast shook his head, trying not to smile at him. "In an ideal world, I think neither is preferable. And you're still insane."

Gaston tilted his head, gesturing across the river where the wolves were watching them. Their expressions could have been disappointed, and they whined and growled, as if they knew they'd been outdone, at least for the time being.

Gaston's face flashed anger, and he looked at Beast before wrenching the bow off his shoulder without any warning at all. He reached back into his quiver to draw an arrow; glowering with the effort and already angling it into the bow and pointing it across the bank, before Beast realised what his intention was.

"Stop," Beast wrapped a paw firmly around a tensed and trembling arm.

"Why?" Gaston glared at him incredulously. "They tried to kill us, Beast!"

"I know that," Beast tugged the arrow easily out of his hold. "But do you really want to waste an arrow on one of them? We only have a couple left, you know."

Gaston's jaw clenched momentarily, fists curling and uncurling, and then his shoulders sagged.

"Fine," he grumbled at last, and looked sullenly over at the wolves again. "I almost feel bad for them. I'm sure they were looking forward to getting another chunk out of my tasty body."

"You are irresistible," Beast said.

Gaston snorted, and looked at Beast properly. Then he started to laugh, and it was hard and genuine.

Beast was concerned. "Have you really lost your mind this time?"

Gaston shook his head as he composed himself. He lifted the bow back up, and pressed it into Beast's paws.

"I just can't believe you managed to keep a hold of this damn thing," he grinned. "through all of that."

Beast returned the grin, and looped the weapon back over his shoulder. He hadn't thought too much about keeping anything but the hunter safe as they'd been tossed down the river, so it was with some luck they'd kept the bow (and a couple of arrows) intact along the way. It was like something had been looking out for them, there.

He squinted up, where sunshine was streaming through the huge grey cloud, extinguishing it's command on the skies and giving everything it touched a fresh and bright glow. Away from the bank were the hollows of trees, which lead into the pitch blackness of deep forest once again. It seemed that there was no other choice but to go through it.

Gaston seemed to realise it too, and he looked at Beast with a grimmer smile.

"At least it's stopped raining," he said, and took the lead.

They'd walked a little way into the forest before the sunlight became blocked by thick cover of trees again, and the only sound was the call of birds and rustle of foliage against their feet. Beast's stomach hurt, but not in hunger, and he could feel his focus waning with it.

Gaston seemed to notice, and he looked back at him with a raised brow. "Do you want to stop?"

Beast shook his head automatically, but the motion was dizzying. He realised in some annoyance, that he would have to stop, whether he wanted to or not. He teetered on his feet, and felt more than saw the hunter at his side. A hand rested lightly on his arm.

"It's the poison," Gaston said, in easy explanation. "It's to be expected. You've still not flushed it all out yet. Also, you did nearly drown earlier."

"Oh," Beast said, feeling useless. "Well, you nearly drowned too."

"Sit down," Gaston told him, and then pulled him the rest of the way onto the ground. "We can rest a bit. And I didn't nearly drown."

"We must be remembering things differently," Beast said, but did feel a little better with the simple act of not moving at all.

Gaston yawned and sat near to him, leaning back against a tree. He pulled his sodden boots off with a look of distaste as the water dripped out of them.

"I know I asked for some water, but this is ridiculous," he blinked at Beast then. "Go to sleep. I'll be sure to let you know if anything tries to kill us again."

"Thanks," Beast smirked, and lay properly down. He watched as the hunter pulled the last couple of arrows out of his quiver, before tossing them over to Beast.

"Just in case," he said.

"Right," Beast nodded.

He wondered when it was that Gaston had begun to trust him so completely with such things. And even more surprising, that he seemed to think Beast was competent enough to use them in the first place.

Perhaps it was mere desperation on the hunter's part that made him trust Beast; he was struggling with that shoulder wound and it wouldn't get much better without proper treatment, Beast knew. But he also knew that the 'truce' between them was turning into something else, and it didn't require any pause for thought or suspicious hesitation anymore. It just was.

"Gaston?" he ventured carefully, but the hunter didn't say anything.

He blinked up to see that Gaston had sunk completely against the tree, head tilted to the side and eyes closed. He'd fallen asleep almost immediately, and Beast snorted faintly with the realisation that he was just as exhausted as himself.

He looked upon the hunter with a fondness which brought about those irrelevant thoughts again; like the gentle curve of his chest, or the way his lashes moved as he slept (and probably dreamt), and the pulse of his throat as he simply breathed.

It was with a heady feeling that Beast wondered; maybe all of this had happened for a reason. And good reason.

Perhaps, if this entire mess was connected to the curse, Gaston really was supposed to help him? The hunter had said it himself; he was willing to help...

Beast turned quickly away, realising how absurd his thoughts were becoming, and then the deeper implications that pressed at his conscience and made him question everything.

He thought about Belle with a guilty ache at his chest.

That couldn't be right, anyway. Gaston had helped him more than enough, and the curse still stood, unbroken. Beast was still a Beast...nothing had changed, superficially at least. It wasn't up to Gaston to help him, of course it wasn't.

And this was Gaston.

Beast lay his head down with a drawn out sigh. He wondered why such a conclusion didn't satisfy his thoughts very much at all.

8

Standing in the dark of the forest, Beast knew that he was only dreaming, even though every scent and sight was so vivid and true to everything else he'd been seeing recently.

In front of him was a trail of arrows, all pointed in one direction; and all away from him.

Thoughtlessly, he followed them for a while, until he reached a dead end, in the form of a stone wall. It might have been a cavern, like the one he and Gaston had stumbled out of not so long ago, but it was hard to tell.

The last arrow was pointed into the wall, giving no other indication of where he was supposed to go. Beast looked around, half expecting something or someone to tell him, but the forest only answered in silence.

Then, when he glanced at the wall again, it seemed to change before his eyes; the greyish stone pooling into a pearl-white and shining ever so beautifully. He knew what it was at once, as he tilted his head up toward the sky, seeing the golden tipped tops of his own castle, as it always was before the curse.

"I didn't recognise you," a familiar voice said, somewhere behind him.

Beast turned round to find Gaston leaning against a tree, his arms folded and his mouth a smug line, cockier than he'd ever looked.

"You look much better."

"Gaston, what're you-" Beast stopped. His voice sounded different too. It felt different, in his own throat.

He blinked down at his hands. They were his hands...his own hands. All flesh...

"Gaston, look at this!-"

He looked up, but the hunter was gone. And then so were the trail of arrows.

"Gaston?"

He turned slowly back around. The castle was still there, as gleaming and beautiful as he remembered it, but a heaviness had reached his heart, and something was telling him to turn back, and go into the forest again.

8

Beast awoke suddenly, disturbed by a quiet sound, close to his ear.

He scrambled upright, trying to find the source of the danger. Then he turned his head, hazily understanding where the noise was coming from.

Gaston was strewn out on his back, an arm outstretched, and fingers gripping for something that wasn't there. His chest shook as it moved, as if each breath were being squeezed painfully out of him by some invisible force. His brow furrowed into lines of distress, and his mouth moved with a sound that matched it.

Beast budged quickly over, and pressed a paw on the hunter's good shoulder, nudging him carefully.

"Hey...wake up. It's okay, wake up."

Gaston murmured, like a weak protest, and then his eyes flickered open. He looked at Beast in confusion, and then fear.

"...Beast? What's wrong?" he rubbed his eyes, and started to sit up, his entire body tensing, like he was ready for some kind of ambush. Not that it would have been unusual at this point.

"Nothings wrong," Beast said gently, keeping a paw on his chest. "You were just having a bad dream."

Gaston blinked a couple of times, seeming to absorb the information with some concern. Then he scowled weakly in Beast's direction, but didn't bother pushing his paw away.

He rubbed his eyes again, far more roughly.

"I-I wasn't...I don't even remember what I was dreaming, Beast."

Beast nodded, but didn't believe him. "Think you can go back to sleep okay?"

Gaston looked at him with a sardonic face.

"Why? Were you planning on telling me another bedtime story?"

Beast wanted to smile; "It didn't cross my mind, honestly," he paused. "But I can, if you want."

Gaston shook his head quickly, and stretched out his legs.

"I'm not tired anymore," he started pulling his boots back on. He stood up and seemed to consider, before picking the bow up too.

"Where're you going?" Beast asked, trying not to be too concerned.

"Just walking. I won't be long,"

"Hunting?"

"No," Gaston blinked, and looked for a moment as if he'd forgotten Beast was even there. "I told you, just walking."

Beast stared after him, entirely unconvinced. "Be careful," he said, as the hunter disappeared into the dark of the forest.

Beast slowly lay his head down, staring at the empty spot where Gaston had been sleeping. It didn't feel right; just the simple thought of not being able to keep the hunter in his sight, or not knowing where he might be, or then what sort of danger he could be in...

Beast couldn't help it; he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. It was frustrating, but that was apparently how it was now.

He sat up again, shaking the last of the sleep away, and following after the hunter into the darkness, not entirely sure what he might do.

8

He didn't need to walk very far; he found Gaston crouched at the edge of a small clearing.

He was staring intently into the middle of it, like there might be some sort of wild game there. Except his bow was lying forgotten at his side, so it couldn't have been that.

The clearing was spotlighted by the warm glow of sunrise; and the ground was fresh with dew ridden grasses.

Most striking of all was the collection of mushrooms that formed a perfect circle in the centre of it.

"What is that?" Beast wondered.

Gaston blinked up, and didn't seem too surprised to see him.

"A fairy ring," he said, as if it were obvious.

"Fairy what?"

"Fairy ring," Gaston repeated, impatiently. He shifted on his feet. "Supposedly they're created by faeries themselves."

Beast stared between the ring of mushrooms and the hunter, uncertain if he was joking or not.

"I thought you didn't believe any of that enchanted stuff?"

Gaston scoffed. "These aren't enchanted things, Beast. They're old folk tales. Parents tell their kids them."

"Oh...you mean like fairy stories?" Beast said, with a smirk.

"If you like," Gaston shrugged, and turned his attention back to the circle. He looked unusually pensive.

Slowly, Beast walked the rest of the way to meet him; it felt almost like he was approaching some nervous prey, as bizarre as it seemed. He knelt down near the hunter, following his gaze.

"I thought you didn't like those stories?"

"I don't, not really," Gaston admitted. "But...sometimes you can't help but imagine it."

"What do you imagine?" Beast asked, his curiosity entirely peaked.

"I don't know..." Gaston rubbed an arm over his brow. "but my mother...she was good at telling a story. She made the faeries sound frightening...but sort of mysterious, I suppose," he frowned at his own words, and then back at the ring of mushrooms. "I don't know why I remember it so well. It was a long time ago."

Beast stared at the hunter's intent profile, completely taken by it.

"You talk like you might believe those stories, hunter."

Gaston's face flushed, and he stood up quickly, as if something had snapped him from a deep trance.

"I don't believe them, Beast," he stabbed his boot toe into the grass. "just because I'm not much of a reader, doesn't mean I can't imagine stuff."

"I gathered that," Beast stood up slowly. "A few days ago, actually."

Gaston blinked up at him, something like surprise crossing his face, and then a reluctant smile teasing his mouth.

"Better not tell a soul about this, Beast. They'll all think I've lost my mind."

Beast smiled; "They don't know what they're missing, then."

Gaston raised an eyebrow, and his smile mirrored Beast's for a few seconds.

Within those moments, Beast could hear nothing but his own heart, pounding so loudly in his ears that he was sure Gaston might hear it too. But the hunter was looking back at the ring of mushrooms again, completely unaware.

"How long ago was it, Beast? When you were cursed, I mean."

"A long time ago," Beast said, not really thinking about it.

"What? You mean years?" Gaston spared him a sideways look of intrigue. "You don't look bad in that case. I mean, for a beast."

Beast nudged him with an easy smirk. "I'm not that old."

Gaston turned to face him properly.

"So how old? I won't tell anyone, I promise," the hunter's tone was light, but Beast could see the seriousness within his expression, and that he might mean it.

It was so crazy, how much Beast could believe his words. But maybe he just really wanted to believe them.

Gaston frowned. "I'm sorry if I'm asking too much-"

"It's ten years," Beast told him. "Ten years just a few days ago, actually. That night you came to the castle."

Gaston stared at him, eyes widening just a fraction with the information. "Oh," he said, after a moment. "I...that is a long time."

"It's definitely long enough," Beast agreed, but didn't feel so bitter with the thought. Gaston's expression was distraction enough. It was like he was truly sorry.

The hunter looked back at the circle of mushrooms, and scowled.

"I keep thinking all of this is just some really strange dream, Beast. And when I realise it's not, I wonder if I'm losing my mind."

Beast felt himself nodding, vaguely. "You're not alone."

Gaston stepped into the circle, and then kicked up one of the mushrooms with grim sort of satisfaction.

"These things are poisonous too, Beast. Just in case you were feeling hungry."

Beast smirked wryly, and found himself following the hunter into the broken circle. "Thanks for telling me."

"I'm only doing it to save myself," Gaston snorted, but kept his eyes on the ground, as if it were too difficult to look at Beast for some reason. "You think I'd enjoy the idea of dragging your huge poisoned hide the rest of the way through this place?"

"I wouldn't expect you to," Beast smiled, and spoke far more quietly than he'd intended.

There was no need to speak any louder, since the gap between them was insignificant, and getting smaller still.

Gaston turned his head away, but Beast caught his arm, hands curling around his wrist and keeping him in place.

The morning sun was streaming properly through into the clearing, and Beast could clearly see the way Gaston flushed through his indignant glare, and then how halfheartedly he attempted to free himself from Beast's hold, before giving up with a final huff of resignation. When he blinked at Beast again, it was with a defeated sort of smile.

"I don't know what it is," he said, in soft confession. "but I feel like I already know you."

Beast froze, his clutch on the hunter tightening just a bit with the words, and then something touching his own thoughts and making them spin frantically around his head, searching for something that was hidden too well.

"That's stupid, isn't it?" Gaston said into the silence, and then laughed shortly. "Who would you even be? A long lost friend? A brother? A-"

"A prince," Beast blurted, unable to stop himself. "I'm a prince."

It was easy to say it in that moment, because Gaston looked so vulnerable and harmless and...and he deserved something.

Gaston looked at him with a bewildered frown.

"...a what?" he muttered, more to himself.

"I'm a prince," the words were turning into sandpaper against Beast's throat.

Gaston's brow creased, and he pulled his arm out of Beast's grip. He took a step back.

"What are you even talking about, Beast?" he laughed unevenly, then shook his head. "Don't talk such nonsense..."

"I'm not," Beast cleared his throat. "It's true. That's what I am."

Gaston looked at him with a wariness Beast had not seen on his face for what felt like a long time; it was almost like betrayal, and it made Beast's gut hurt. It was as though some kind of idyllic bubble had burst around them, shattering something so important, even if Beast didn't know precisely what it was. But whatever it was, he desperately needed to keep a hold of it.

The more he looked at Gaston, the more he realised it was escaping the both of them.

"You can't be...I'd remember that..." the hunter's face was conflicted in his confusion. "I'm not a fool..." he moved the rest of the way out of the circle, and turned away from Beast. "I don't believe this..."

Beast spoke tentatively; "If you can believe I was once a human, it is really so hard to believe I was once a prince too? What does it even matter who I am?"

"Seems it doesn't," Gaston sneered, and his confusion resolved into anger. He glared at the sky. "Whether you're a prince or Beast...I can't compete with either."

Beast stared at him in some confusion; "compete for what?"

Then it dawned on him, of course.

"Belle?"

Gaston seemed to flinch with the name, and he looked at Beast hatefully.

Beast grimaced.

"Belle is not-"

"This isn't about her," Gaston snarled an interruption. "Beast, or should I say prince; you have everything else to fall back on. I don't fall back on anything," he gestured to his own body. "This is what I've got, Beast. This is everything I've got," the words faded out with the sudden and broken waver in his voice.

At any other time it would have been the epitome of fitting and expected arrogance coming from the hunter's mouth, but now he looked completely anguished, as if it might even have pained him to speak the words.

"This is all I've got."

He tipped his head away from Beast, eyes fixating on the ground.

Beast stared at the hunter, and the silence of the forest somehow lent to the words that had just been spewed, as though it had listened, and was absorbing it all just as slowly as Beast himself.

He swallowed, his throat tightening with the realisation.

"I'm sorry-" he started toward the hunter, but Gaston flexed his arm back, and pulled an arrow sharply from his quiver.

He levelled the bow at Beast, and set the arrow into it. His expression settling into some icy cold that Beast could barely recall on his face.

Beast halted, and straightened up some more.

"Don't kid yourself, Gaston. You couldn't shoot before, you won't do it now."

Gaston gritted his teeth, his brow creasing harshly. "I told you, don't presume what I will or won't do," the bow trembled in the hunter's hand. It was the only hint that he might believe Beast's words.

Beast took a tiny step forward. "I know you won't."

Gaston's eyes flickered, and for a moment it looked like he wouldn't.

His mouth twisted into a snarl.

Then the arrow flew through the air, and Beast didn't even have time to register his shock.

He dodged to the side, and felt the arrow graze over his shoulder. It unceremoniously landed a few feet behind him.

The silence around them was telling, and Beast blinked back up to find Gaston staring at him in some shock, the bow falling to his side, as if he'd already killed him.

"Beast-"

Beast reached him with a snarl, pulling the hunter up and off the ground. He pinned him hard against a tree with a brutal ferocity that betrayed the conflict that was already rushing through his thoughts.

"I should kill you now," he said, deciding to ignore it.

Gaston struggled briefly, but seemed to know his best efforts were futile.

He tipped his head up instead, offering Beast a sneer that faltered in it's certainty, just as much as his eyes. They seemed to shine too much against the morning light.

"So do it. Stop trying to deny what you really are, Beast..." his voice was jeering and cruel, as uneven as it was.

Beast gripped him tighter, feeling flesh pulse frantically against his palm, and for a tiny moment he really could have done it.

He closed his eyes, searching for his voice's conscience; to reassure him, to tell him, that he was much better than that.

But there wasn't any sort of voice.

Instead, the only thing that found his mind was the hunter himself; a brief but vividly overwhelming flash of images that all added up to some chaotic few days in a forest. And yet this was the most obvious and most simple reassurance he could ever have asked for.

He felt a tremble against his paws, and then the short hitch of breath that gave away whatever bravado the hunter had offered him. It wasn't real, Beast knew it.

He opened his eyes, and found Gaston's eyes were wide with some terrified anticipation, like he really thought Beast would kill him.

And that was the most terrible realisation; like a flashback to the castle rooftop, and it was as if nothing had changed at all.

Beast turned his head away, unable to look at the hunter, because he knew he couldn't entirely hate him anymore, no matter what he did.

No, that was the most terrible realisation of all. And everything had changed.

Beast released him, with such force that the hunter fell onto his back.

Gaston's sneer wavered and then faded away. He stood up slowly, clutching his shoulder.

"...good luck, Beast."

Beast tilted his head, watching the hunter walk away out of the corner of his eye, strange pangs reaching his gut.

Then he noticed the bow had been abandoned on the ground, close to his own feet.

He knelt down and held it between his paws.

"Good luck," he muttered.

88

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Chapter Text

88

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Gaston didn't know where he was going anymore.

His mind was a blur of emotion, as he pushed through leaves and tree branches like they might be long-fought and bitter enemies, and snarled at every tree root that dared interrupt his deft march or else made him stumble. He ignored every scratch of thorn against his arms, and the fresh pulse of pain in his injured shoulder.

Anger dimmed all of it out, numbing him temporarily to rational thought. He could feel it, tangible and flooding through curling fists, protecting whatever was left of his decimated ego, for just a few small moments.

And for those few small moments, he thought he could remember what it was like to hate the Beast again.

It was only for a few moments, though.

Of course the Beast was a prince. He had a castle, for god's sake.

Gaston looked over his shoulder, and for one mournful second he just wanted to go back.

"Idiot," he punched a hardened fist into a tree trunk. The pain was dull and insignificant, hardly registering against his knuckles.

He leaned back against the tree, catching his breath and letting the last of his rage fade into obscurity, replacing it with a regret that pounded against his chest. His hands were shaking, and the last few moments between himself and the Beast played vividly in his mind for a torturous few seconds, as he tried to figure out his own inexplicable reaction.

Something about the sudden closeness between them; it must have been that. Fogging his brain and making him forget himself for a little while.

The way the Beast had held his wrist, the way the Beast had looked at him so kindly, the way the Beast had made him blurt out things that he didn't even know about himself. Things he knew he'd never tell anyone else.

Gaston stared at his shaking hands, and felt betrayed by his own thoughts.

And wasn't that the most frightening feeling of all?

He dragged a hand over his face, clawing at it in some new despair. He heard himself laugh, but it was more like a sob pulled out of his throat, on the edge of total disbelief.

Perhaps he was just dreaming. None of this made any sense after all. Soon he'd wake up and be back at the tavern, and Lefou would be there, retelling the story of how he'd killed the Beast and saved the girl, just like it was all supposed to have happened in the first place.

This shouldn't...this wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Not this way.

He curled his fingers hard into his palms, nails digging into skin even through his hunting gloves, willing a myriad of thoughts away from himself. He couldn't think about any of that, not now.

He took another step.

A burning pain seared all the way up his right leg, and he saw nothing but white for some agonised seconds. He screamed, and then fell heavily onto the ground, jarring his injured shoulder with another cry.

"...what the..." he gasped, and twisted around on the ground.

Looking down, he saw the gleam of something sharp and metal embedded in the longer grass. There was a considerable amount of blood speckled all around it, and then seeping onto the object itself.

Gaston sat up with a groan, dizzied by the sudden pain. He parted the grass through trembling fingers, and looked at his entrapped foot with a sickened hiss.

It was some kind of big game trap; most likely intended for a bear, puncturing into the ankle of his boot like a set of metallic jaws and pressing deeper with every passing second.

Gaston cursed and bent forwards, settling his hands either side of the hinges. He knew these contraptions well enough; he had his own, as it happened. He also knew, with some hopeless feeling, that what he was about to do was fairly pointless.

He pulled at the trap anyway, gasping and with all of his strength. The jaws opened a few tiny fractions, before snapping shut again, stabbing brutally back into skin with fresh spurts of blood.

Gaston cried out, bowing his head, and sucking in air through his teeth. He tipped onto his back in angry frustration, digging fingers into soft earth and clinging to it for unbearable seconds. He gritted his teeth, forcing back the annoying sting that threatened at his eyes.

"...fantastic," he murmured, and bitterly wondered if this was karma working against him, for all his sins. He blinked up, where the small gaps in the trees revealed the most vibrant and bluest parts of the skies.

Dying like this was an indignity all to itself, and some kind of irony, he realised. Maybe it was even fitting.

A hunter killed by a hunting trap. He sneered grimly to himself.

A hunting trap.

Gaston prickled with the sudden realisation.

He struggled upright, eyes widening around the forest in the vain and ridiculous hope that a person would appear out of thin air and come to his aid. Of course none did, but he was disappointed anyway. Still, it was a sign that there was some sort of civilisation about, at least. Close enough to have set a trap.

Mildly spurred on by the thought, Gaston wiped the stickiness from his forehead and concentrated on the simple task of standing up again. He grappled against a nearby tree, ignoring the ache that met his shoulder, and pressed forward. The trap dragged awkwardly, and he tried not to think about the blood that had already stained through his boot.

He'd only walked a few steps before the first unnatural scream rang out, echoing across the skies. Flinching, he reached an instinctive arm around his shoulder for a bow that wasn't there anymore. Of course, he'd left that with the Beast.

He waited with baited breath, as another scream quickly followed it.

The forest responded in quiet, not a single bird nor animal seeming to react to the sound, which was strange in itself, Gaston thought.

He looked wearily around, trying to catch movement amongst the thicker shrubs or beyond the oldest looking trees. But he was too deep into the forest now, and had no idea where he might be anymore.

He'd lost all sense of direction since abandoning the Beast, and for a while none of it had mattered, but now he found himself wondering about wolves and bears and everything else that had come for them.

At least when he'd been with the Beast there had been some strange reassurance in being lost together. It had been easier to face anything, just knowing that he was there. It wasn't even for the obvious reasons either.

He could talk to the Beast, complain to him, and laugh at him. More than that, he could laugh with him.

Gaston could have laughed at his own ludicrous thoughts. They'd been apart barely any time at all, and he was already limping, bleeding and missing the damned Beast-Prince-whatever he was.

Maybe he just did so much better with the Beast around.

The thought was miserable, and some part of him was still lingering, wanting to turn back to find the Beast. But if his pride hadn't been dragged through the mud long enough, that would only be the final nail in the battered coffin.

And wasn't it easier this way?

"Oh yes, much easier," he muttered sarcastically, as he nearly tripped over a tree root.

He huffed, and parted some more thick bramble, before spotting the shadow of something approaching in the mid-distance.

Between shrubs and trees, and the way the sun poked through and cast surrealistic light on everything, he couldn't make out the details of what it was, but it moved weightily, as if it were packed full of potential strength.

Gaston pressed his back against a tree, sucking in a harsh breath and praying against all else that it hadn't seen him.

It didn't matter though; rustled footsteps were getting too close.

He curved around the tree, staring up at the branches and sizing up his ability to climb, before attempting the feat anyway. His entrapped foot protested with an angry burn, and he slipped against the bracken, realising there wasn't going to be much chance of that.

"Damn it..."

He caught a hold of a tree branch hanging just above his head, snapping it in one last-ditch resort. If he was going to go out at all, it may as well be doing something he was good at, and brutish strength seemed to be the only viable option.

As he stepped back around the tree, the shape was already upon him.

He managed to get one well-aimed bash into the creature (maybe it's side), before he was falling backwards onto the ground, losing all grip on his poor excuse for a weapon, and then something was snatching his wrists and pinning them firmly down amongst the dry grasses.

There was a panting snarl, and then a voice so familiar that it made his stomach lurch with an unknown feeling.

"Be still, something's following us."

Gaston opened his eyes.

The Beast was upon him, his breath hot and shaking, close to his chest. His eyes were intense but not in a dangerous way, and they flicked anxiously about, as if he were waiting for something else to reach them.

Gaston struggled feebly. "...what-"

"Ssh," a paw pressed onto his mouth, covering it completely.

Gaston stared past him, forgetting his indignation when another one of those piercing screams cut through, and seemed to snap up his spine like a shiver. He felt the Beast's hold on him tense slightly, and then there was a huge shadow; covering them in a thick blanket of darkness for what felt like an age.

It was like something had snuffed out the light completely, leaving behind a night that did not have moon or stars within it. The forest itself seemed frozen in soundless time, and the air was too thick and suffocating. For a little while all Gaston could register was the drum of a heart beating frantically close to his own. He thought his own heart might jump out of his mouth.

Then, as the shadow finally shifted and light filtered back through, he felt the Beast's paw fall away from his mouth.

Gaston let out a shaking breath he didn't know he'd been keeping.

"What...what was that?" his voice felt hoarse.

Beast turned his gaze back to look at him, the intensity falling away from his eyes, replaced with nothing but immediate concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, ignoring the question.

Gaston struggled again, trying to wriggle out of the fervent hold Beast had got on him, but it was no use. He blew out of sigh of frustration.

"Yes, if you let go of me, Beast."

Beast looked reluctant.

"...alright. But stay put."

Gaston hissed with the order. "Don't tell me what to do."

Despite that, Beast's frown softened, as he slowly moved his paws off Gaston's wrists.

"They're like birds," he said.

"...what?" Gaston raised a hand to his forehead, which felt like it was burning, for some reason. "What are you talking about?"

"The sounds, and those shadows. I didn't see too much of them, but they had great wings. Larger than anything I've ever seen before."

Gaston grimaced. "So you've been busy bird-watching whilst I've been busy bleeding? I suppose it makes sense."

"Bleeding?" Beast's ears pricked.

He seemed to remember he was still sitting on top of Gaston, and he lurched back clumsily, before noticing the ensnared leg.

"...what-what happened to you?"

Gaston propped himself up onto his elbows, smiling sardonically. "Nothing. Obviously I meant to do this," somehow it was easier to make light of it, even amidst feelings of utter humiliation. Talk about wounded pride; he was fairly sure it was dead and six feet under at this point.

Beast raised a brow, and moved to look at the injury properly. "Let me see it."

Gaston looked away. "Please don't. Just let me die."

"Don't be dramatic. It looks a mess."

"I'm not. And it's fine."

"It looks anything but fine, hunter," Beast said sternly. "And don't tell me it's 'just a scratch', either."

Gaston wanted to laugh, despite everything. He practised a glare on the Beast instead. "It's just a scratch, then."

"You're a bad liar."

Beast inspected the leg once more, then took the bear trap easily into his huge paws. He pulled it open with a grunt and quickly nudged the leg out, before the trap snapped viciously back shut again.

The relief was immense, and Gaston sighed, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes shortly.

"Is that better?" Beast asked, sounding just as relieved.

"...yes."

"I was worried, you know," there was an imploring edge to Beast's voice.

Gaston opened his eyes and stared at him blankly. The Beast had already started wrapping something (probably another ragged end to his tattered cape) around his ankle, as if Gaston had asked him to. It was ridiculous, how endlessly kind the Beast could be.

Gaston shook his head. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why were you worried?"

"Do you really need to ask that?" Beast scowled, as if it might be obvious.

Gaston turned away, trying to find something, anything, to distract himself from the Beast's words. He felt the pressure on his leg tighten a bit with the bandaging, though it didn't really hurt. He was far more aware of the sudden grip on his arm, squeezing it in a way that he couldn't ignore.

He tipped his head, settling a glare on the huge paw that was rested there.

"I tried to kill you."

Beast didn't say anything, keeping his concentrating gaze on Gaston's injury. Somehow it was far more infuriating than anything he ever could have said.

Gaston clenched his jaw. "Didn't you hear me? I said I tried to kill you, Beast."

Beast stared at him, as though he'd just appeared before his eyes. "Yes, I was there, remember."

Gaston growled, in more despair than anger.

"Why...why do you always make this so much harder than it has to be, Beast?"

Beast tilted his head in some faint confusion, then opened his mouth to say something.

He was interrupted by a shriek, so much closer than that last one.

A shadow crept over the Beast's face with the sound, and Gaston felt the paw tighten painfully around his arm.

"Can you run?"

"Huh?" Gaston blinked, before another shrieking sound followed, and a shape formed and folded into the high tree tops with a violent crash, bring leaves down all upon them.

Beast pulled Gaston roughly up.

"Can you run?" he repeated urgently.

"Of course I can," Gaston snapped automatically, not really thinking about it.

Beast didn't look convinced. "Alright. Let's go."

It was some terribly misplaced bravado; Gaston knew it as soon as his injured foot hit the ground and the pain bolted through him. Still, there were more terrifying matters at hand, like the scream of a shadow that seemed to be growing and swallowing up the entire sky.

He ran as well as he could, trying to keep his eyes on the Beast's back and forgetting the pain in his foot, and then the forest became a blur of colour. The ground began to arc and dip, before Gaston realised he was falling.

He landed spectacularly onto his side, screaming with the pain that met his wounded shoulder. Curling onto the ground, he felt the shadow moving over him with a vague feeling of regret. But there were no life-flashing-before-the-eyes type visions, no moment of absolute clarity about anything at all, as he realised he might be about to die.

Instead, as the tree tops began to blur and haze into shades of green, mixing together like some melting oil painting, all he thought about, annoyingly, was the Beast (of course he would), and the way he'd smiled at him in the middle of the broken fairy ring, so many hours ago.

It was the most significant thing in the world for a few seconds.

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"You're not dead. Don't be silly."

"What?" Gaston sat up in a rush.

Strangely, there was no pain at all, which was a convenient change for once.

He looked at his shoulder, which was clean and without injury, and then down at his leg, which wasn't marked at all anymore.

"Who are-" he stopped, when he recognised the person standing in front of him, beaming in a way that was so familiar that Gaston might have hugged him. "Lefou?"

"Yes, you remember!" Lefou punched the air, and then punched Gaston's shoulder playfully. "I was beginning to worry about you, you know. You were saying some very strange things."

Gaston rolled his shoulders experimentally, still getting used to the idea that the basic action didn't hurt any longer. He looked at Lefou with a cautious smile.

"Lefou, I am happy to see you."

Lefou frowned. "Yeah, exactly. Strange stuff like that."

Gaston frowned. "Well, I am happy. Happy to be out of that cursed forest, too."

He looked around, and realised he was sitting back in the tavern. He couldn't recall how he might have gotten there, but it didn't matter.

"I'll buy us all some drinks," he decided.

Lefou followed him to the bar, his face full of curiosity.

"Forest?" he said.

"Yes, you know. How long has it even been?"

Lefou scratched his head. "I don't know anything about that, Gaston. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Gaston glared. "I've never felt better. Considering I was maimed by wolves, half drowned and then caught in a bear trap, I'd say I'm feeling pretty fantastic, actually."

Lefou laughed nervously. "ah, right," his eyes flitted to the side.

Gaston looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean you don't know about that? Doesn't anyone know what I had to endure out there? I was stuck for days, with that...that Beast..."

"Beast?" Lefou said in a frightened voice. "What? You mean like a huge bear?"

"No, not a huge bear," Gaston said through his teeth. This was getting far too annoying, and confusing. "You came with me, Lefou. To the castle."

Lefou seemed to think about it very hard for a few moments, then he slowly shook his head.

"Sorry, Gaston. I wish I knew what you were talking about."

Gaston stared at him, amazed by his stupidity.

"There was a mirror," he said. "it showed us the Beast. Can't you even remember that?"

Lefou looked blank, and shrugged his shoulders.

Gaston turned away from the bar, curling his fists in frustration. "Well, what about Belle and her father? Surely they've mentioned the Beast?"

"...Belle," Lefou rolled his eyes thoughtfully to the tavern wall. "Oh yeah, she's married to the prince now."

"No, she's-" the words died in Gaston's mouth.

He began to piece together a miserable puzzle.

"...the prince?"

"Yes, they're very happy together," Lefou nodded eagerly, pleased to be able to tell Gaston something he didn't know.

Gaston took a step back, swallowing the mournful feeling that crept without warning into his chest.

"You mean she married...the Beast?"

Lefou looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"No...she married a prince, Gaston. Are you...are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Gaston shook his head. He felt-

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He felt sick, like he might actually throw up.

He twisted onto his side, and when nothing came, collapsed onto his back again. Clasping his head in his hands, he wondered how he might still be alive. He laughed, but it was more like a broken sound, something tipping onto the hysterical.

"You're still alive too, then. I'm glad."

Gaston slid his eyes to the side, where the Beast was also lying on his back, staring up at the sky. He looked exhausted and he was panting hard. There were reddened marks struck all across his pelt that looked fresh and raw with blood.

"What happened?" Gaston winced as he sat up, finding all sorts of new pain and bruising that hadn't been there before. He was fairly sure that he might be dying. "I think I'm dying," he voiced it, nonchalantly.

Beast smiled grimly. "You're okay," he sat up, rubbing his head. "I think we lost it, whatever it was."

"Did you get a good look at it?"

"Unfortunately not. But it's definitely some sort of flying creature, I know that much."

"Great deduction."

The Beast stood up slowly, as if the effort might be a chore in itself. "We need to find some better cover than this, in case if comes back," he looked at Gaston doubtfully. "Do you think you can walk at all?"

Gaston felt his cheeks heating up. "I'm not an invalid."

Beast rolled his eyes. "Can you please stop acting so tough for once? I don't mind helping you-"

"I don't want your help anymore," Gaston snapped, and stood up too quickly. The world momentarily slid from view.

The Beast's arms caught him; holding him upright. Gaston pushed him away in some furious embarrassment.

"Don't touch me."

"...why're you so against me helping you now?"

"Because I don't..." Gaston looked around uselessly, as if the forest itself might provide him with the easiest answer. The trees only swayed in serene response, rather like they were taunting him. "I never asked for your help, Beast! This whole time...not once did I ever ask for it!"

Beast looked momentarily taken aback.

"I never asked for your help either, hunter. But you have helped me. A few times, actually."

Gaston moved away, putting enough distance between them both so that he didn't have to look at the Beast's concerned face in such unnecessary detail.

"I only helped you for my own gain, Beast. You think I'd want to keep you around for any other reason, besides that?"

Beast recoiled with the words, and his mouth twitched.

"I don't...I don't believe that, hunter."

"Believe whatever you want, then. I'm past caring what you think."

"I'm sure you never cared in the first place," the words were passive but cutting in their delivery.

Gaston flinched and turned round, wanting to sneer, but somehow it was too difficult.

Instead he could only look the Beast up and down, noticing the raw wounds struck across his fur again, and how much nastier they appeared against the dimming glow of dusk. Gaston rubbed his head, trying to dislodge the pang of a forming headache that wanted to reside amongst his agitated thoughts.

He gritted his teeth.

"Are you...are you alright?"

Beast looked at him strangely, and then nodded, as if he'd been asked a trick question. "...yes?"

"Well. Good," Gaston turned away, ignoring the ache in his leg when he started to walk. He heard the Beast's footsteps following after him, with the bitterest sense of satisfaction.

8

They walked in silence for a while, though Gaston wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it.

At first he'd thought it was the best solution; if he didn't talk to the Beast he wouldn't have to think about any of it. He wouldn't have to consider any of the reasons why he'd let himself get so upset about insignificant things. It didn't matter that the Beast was actually a prince, it didn't change a thing.

As if he'd ever had a chance, anyway.

"There isn't any cover here," Beast said.

Gaston lifted his head, hastily putting away his thoughts and following the Beast's gaze.

The forest was thinning out in front of them, and the trees parted and opened up to a huge stretch of meadows that brought on a beautiful horizon, colouring the sky with the pinkish-purple of evening.

Gaston stared at it all miserably. "Perhaps we'd be better off staying in the forest."

Beast blinked at him. "I never thought I'd hear you say that, hunter."

"I don't mean forever. Just until we're sure those flying beasts aren't after us."

"I don't think there's any way to know that. The best we can do is make a run for it, and hope for the best."

Gaston stopped walking, keeping his eyes on the sky.

"'Hope for the best'? That's not a very encouraging plan, Beast."

"Since when were my plans ever very encouraging? Or yours, for that matter."

It was a fair point, Gaston could admit it to himself.

"At least we can assume we're close to other people, if we're encountering hunting traps," Beast carried on. "We must be near some sort of town or village, don't you think?"

Gaston fiddled with the tattered ends of the bandaging on his ankle.

"I would have thought so," he muttered reluctantly.

"Gaston. Please look at me."

Against his better judgement, Gaston did so.

The Beast was closer than he'd expected, and he was looking at him plaintively. He reached out a paw, and hesitated, before resting it on the hunter's arm.

Gaston shrugged it away. "Don't do that."

"I just want to know why-"

"There's nothing to know," Gaston managed to keep his voice level, somehow. He looked at the Beast with an intent to shut him down, but he could feel his own harsh stare wavering before he'd even made up his mind about that.

It didn't matter anyway, the Beast turned away first.

"Fine," he said. "I'll go get us something to eat. You stay here."

Gaston blinked at him, and Beast gestured to the bow he was still holding in explanation.

"But you don't have any arrows-"

Beast shook his head, and plucked a single one from round his belt.

"You left me a nice parting gift, remember," he said, with faint sarcasm.

Gaston stared after him, torn between tiresome guilt and the ever-constant sting of his pride, wanting him to protest it all.

"Be careful," he muttered lowly, but loud enough for the Beast to hear him.

The Beast looked over his shoulder, offering a tight sort of smile, before disappearing into the forest.

Gaston sat down and rubbed his temples, wondering about whenever he'd lost his mind. It shouldn't have even been a question anymore.

At this point, it must have been an absolute certainty.

88

"What are you waiting for?"

Gaston turned around, where the figure of a man he thought he knew was standing at the edge of the forest. Beyond that was an orange-red coloured horizon, gleaming in the golden hour of the afternoon. Silhouetted against it all, on the edge of a distant hill, was a castle.

"Well? Aren't you coming?"

Gaston was unnerved by the proposition, and yet at the same time it made his gut shiver anticipation.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the features of the man standing a few feet from him, but he was covered by fractions of light and the glow of sunset, in a way that made him look almost ethereal.

Gaston had never felt intimidated by anyone else before (save perhaps the Beast himself), but now he was. He was nervous, but it was coupled with that strange anticipation again. He thought he could get used to the feeling, how ever foreign it was.

He took a step forwards. "Where are we going?"

"Home, of course," the other laughed, then turned away, and the edges of his figure started to fade away.

"Hey, wait up!" Gaston demanded, and had to run to try and keep him in sight. "Stop, you're going too fast!"

The figure turned around, and Gaston recognised his blue eyes in an instant. It shook him into stillness, reeling with a realisation that should have been so obvious.

Before he had any time to process it, the edges of the rest of the forest were already fading away.

88

Waking up was disconcerting, only because Gaston couldn't recall falling asleep.

The sky was dark, with only a few modest stars in the sky. The moon looked faded; mostly covered by cloud, and there was the edge of a cold wind prickling against his skin, reminding him of the first few nights in the forest, when it had always been so unbearably chilly. That all seemed a long time ago now, though.

There was the steady sound of breathing close by, and he turned over to see the shape of the Beast lying there.

He was faced away, but close enough so that Gaston could see the fine indents of the horns atop his head, and the way his fur rose and fell in assuring patterns as he slept.

Nearby were the greyed ashes of a fire, and an untouched couple of dead fowl.

Gaston sat up, and the Beast's cape slid from his shoulders before he realised it'd been draped around him.

He gathered it up into his hands and stared at the tattered cloth, his throat tightening with some unfounded emotion that hurt his chest. He wondered how such a small thing could provoke his thoughts like that.

He sighed, and draped the cape over the Beast. As careful as the motion was, it still roused him.

He turned over, offering Gaston an apprehensive and sleepy sort of smile.

"Are you okay?"

Gaston nodded stiffly. "Yes."

"You were dreaming again," Beast commented, and then yawned. "But I didn't want to wake you."

"You should have woken me," Gaston scowled, more to himself. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"Have you eaten yet?"

Gaston shook his head, fixing his gaze on some red wild flowers that crept up a tree trunk in front of him. He didn't feel very hungry at all.

Beast sat up slowly; "You should. We need to start moving again soon. Who knows how long it'll take to cross those fields."

"I'm not hungry."

Beast made a snorting sound, and moved over, so that he was more or less sitting directly opposite him.

He dropped an arrow close to his feet.

"I thought it better not to use it in the end. We only have the two left, after all."

Gaston stared at it, a nauseous feeling reaching his stomach.

"You still want to give this back to me? After what...what I nearly did to you?"

"I know you didn't mean to," there was no hesitancy in the Beast's voice.

Gaston blinked up at him, wanting to be annoyed at his inexplicable and complete confidence. "How can you be so sure? I still tried to, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Beast looked as if he were contemplating something frivolous. "But I didn't think that telling you I was a prince was going to be such a great problem."

A gentle wind curved around them both, and the trees rustled, as if acknowledging the entire crux of the problem.

Gaston felt as though he were being dragged to confession by the forest itself, and it was awful, yet he couldn't resist it.

"Or is that really the problem at all?" Beast asked softly, as if he already knew.

Gaston glared at the arrow.

"...it isn't."

"What, then?" the Beast wasn't pushing for an answer. If anything, he sounded more afraid of what it might be.

Gaston kept his eyes on the arrow, not really looking at it at all.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Then he felt a grip on his arm, and the Beast's voice was softer, somehow;

"I know you said it's not about Belle, anymore. But if it isn't..." he trailed off. "What are you competing for, hunter?"

Gaston picked up the arrow between his fingers, pressing it's sharp end hard enough that it might distract his thoughts.

"I don't know. I was...I don't know what I was saying back there, Beast. It doesn't matter."

"It does," the Beast sounded adamant. "You said you don't have anything else to fall back on-"

"Beast-"

"But you do-"

"Beast!"

"And I know this isn't all you are," fingers dug briefly into his flesh, as though to make an urgent point. "I know that much."

It wasn't painful, but it made Gaston's breath hitch. He tilted his head back up, to look the Beast in the eye.

"I'm not a good person, Beast."

It was an admittance he hardly knew he'd been keeping from himself, in the same way he hadn't thought much about his elusive conscience until so recently. But this was what the Beast had done to him; unwittingly forced him into confessions he didn't know that he had, unravelled him in a way that couldn't just be rolled up again as if nothing had ever happened.

He swallowed hard, like that might draw the words back in so that he'd never spoken them. It was too late, though.

Beast nodded. "I know that," he said. "Neither was I."

"I tried to kill you. Again."

"I hadn't forgotten."

Gaston glowered, attempting to pull away. "You don't understand-"

"I don't understand?" Beast spoke with a firmness that did not touch his eyes. "Do you think I wouldn't know what it's like to be a bad person? Do you think I regret nothing I've ever done in the past? I was cursed because of what I used to be, hunter. I was never some perfect prince...or whatever you seem to think I was."

"I never said that," Gaston snarled and pulled again, trying to free his arm with a desperation that made his eyes prickle, but the Beast had an unyielding hold on him.

"Listen, hunter; you once told me that your story would have the most fantastic ending," he said, and his face was completely resolute. "and for a while I could never have believed that. You're conceited, stubborn, rude, close-minded and...and annoyingly handsome. But now...I think I do believe it, more and more, every day."

"You..."

Gaston's words faded within his throat, so unexpectedly taken by the Beast's own.

There was a bewildering comfort in them, and besides that, the Beast looked the picture of complete sincerity. In that moment, Gaston could have believed anything he said, because everything was so much less complicated when the Beast was just there, and looking at him like that. It was like he validated all of Gaston's confused thoughts with his mere existence.

Gaston realised it all with a strange numbness.

He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again.

"It's just...when I found out you were a prince, it made me realise that I don't really know you at all."

Beast looked at him in some surprise. "Isn't that to be expected? It's only been a few days."

"Yes, but..." Gaston cast around, wanting something else to speak for him. "so much has changed."

The paw tightened on his arm.

"Is that so terrible, hunter?"

"I don't know," Gaston glared down at the arrow. It was far easier to talk to that, because at least that wouldn't detect the weakness in his words. "I...I suppose I don't like not knowing you. "

Then he felt some careful touch, warm against his cheek, and slowly tilting his head back up to meet the Beast's gaze.

The shadow of the human that seemed to reside behind his eyes was more pronounced than Gaston had ever known it, and he thought he could see it, although that might've just been one of his recent dreams, blurring the faded lines of reality. It was getting harder and harder to distinguish between them lately.

"Look, I don't know that much about you, either," the Beast's voice was gentle. "But, if these last few days have taught me anything at all, it's enough to realise that I want to get to know you much better."

Gaston smiled weakly at the ground. "Me too."

He could feel the hold on his arm loosen a bit, but it was still there.

"Good," Beast sounded so pleased, and Gaston felt his inexplicable nerves fading away when he looked at him again.

They sat in a short silence that was not unwelcome, and for once Gaston did not find himself searching for meaningless words, whether they were boasts, insults, or anything else, just to fill up a small space in time. The forest spoke for them both for a little while; wind whistling through trees and coaxing leaves, making them flutter against the edges of the moonlight.

Gaston smirked at the Beast.

"...'annoyingly handsome', huh?"

"Ahem," Beast cleared his throat hurriedly, and retracted his paw just as fast. "Yes. Well. As if you needed reminding of that."

"It's always good to be reminded, though. Thanks for that."

Beast rolled his eyes. "Hah. You and your fragile ego are welcome."

"Shut up. And you know I'm not about to start calling you "your majesty" or "your highness", or anything fancy like that, right?"

"That's a shame," Beast's mouth curved up some more. "I was looking forward to that more than anything."

Gaston pretended to consider. "Well. I could still call you Perceval, if you like."

Beast nudged him in the side, and looked like he might start to laugh.

"Gaston-"

He was interrupted by a screech; piercing through the thick atmosphere and shattering whatever the mood had become between them.

Gaston ducked his head, just in time to dodge silvery-white claws that landed like daggers upon the ground in front of him.

Black feathered wings beat the air around them, and Gaston sprung up, trying to figure whatever the dark shaped being might be, as it swept back up into the sky again and circled it at speed. It was so dark it seemed to blend into it, making it impossible to track by sight.

Gaston turned round to find Beast already aiming the bow up into the sky, arrow shakily moving into place with it.

"Run, and I'll cover us," Beast commanded.

Gaston pulled the Beast's arm down. "Stop playing that damn hero card. It's getting really old."

Beast blinked at him in some surprise. "What-"

Gaston snatched the bow off him, and levelled it for himself.

His shoulder still hurt magnificently with the movement, but he knew in his heart that he was the far better shot, even with that disability. He was the best shot for miles, in fact.

Perhaps it was only for the selfish reassurance of his battered ego, as it always tended to be.

Or perhaps it was only to prove to himself that he really couldn't shoot the Beast after all, or else he would have done so before, and even now, so effortlessly.

Of course he couldn't, the Beast was right. Gaston couldn't, even if he tried.

And he'd really tried.

He was so struck by the revelation, and it was somehow freeing, as though anything at all might have been possible in those few seconds. He felt himself grin as he released the arrow.

It gleamed through the darkness at great speed, like the cliché of a shooting star, meeting it's target soundlessly.

The dark shape's wings spread out so widely that they could have blocked out the moon for a moment, and some horrific cry left it's mouth. However, where Gaston expected it to fall, it didn't; only seeming to rise higher up into the sky, with the arrow still impaled within it's chest.

Gaston shrank back, and felt the Beast's paw on his shoulder.

"Now who's playing the hero?"

Gaston looked at him with a knowing and arrogant sneer. "I never 'play' the hero, Beast. I am-"

There was another shriek from above, and briefly the sky lit up with lightning, silhouetting the creature that was so intent on killing them.

Gaston looked up, taken by a short ripple of shock, as the beast (there was no other word for it), stretched out its elegant wings and lifted it's head, revealing a twisted and humanoid mouth. Contrarily, it released another entirely inhuman scream, before sweeping down toward them once again.

"How about we run for our lives now?" Beast suggested.

"Good plan, Beast."

As they both turned, running into dark grasses and hilly meadow, Gaston could have laughed. Even with an aching and limping body and some ungodly beast tailing after them both, things didn't seem half so terrible anymore.

He looked to his side, where the Beast ran close to him, as if in explanation for all his crazed realisations, his unending dreams.

Then he did begin to laugh.

88

88

Chapter Text

88

88

Beast didn't think he could run much further.

The meadows must have stretched into forever, or at least it felt that way. He and Gaston moved through the darkness in blind fear, guided only by lightning that turned the meadows a burning yellow each time it crackled through the clouds.

It was probably a beautiful sight to look at under better circumstances, but Beast's limbs were heavy, like he was running through thick tar, and his heart felt like it was trying to puncture his ribcage, in an impossible effort to escape his chest.

The only thing he could concentrate on very well was making sure that Gaston was still at his side.

Even though he was slowing, the hunter could still apparently show what a master in endless defiance he was. He ran as if unhindered by such things as injured legs, and for a moment Beast was sure he'd even heard him laughing.

Insane hunter. Beast could have smiled at the thought of it, though.

Instead he looked over his shoulder and into the sky, trying to catch desperate sight of their pursuer. It was clouded, and Beast couldn't find see much of anything, but the terrible screeching had stopped at least.

Still, he didn't want to gamble their lives, just guessing and hoping for the best anymore. There had been far too many lucky escapes already, and he was so sick of running for their lives.

He was a Beast, after all.

With a decisive growl, he snagged a hold on the back of Gaston's shirt, pulling him to a staggering stop.

"Beast..." Gaston cursed through a gasp. "What the hell are you-"

Beast didn't waste any time, pulling the last arrow out of Gaston's quiver, and lifting the bow up with it. He focused as well as he could on the blank sky.

"I already tried that," Gaston said, between pants for breath. "If you care to remember...it didn't work out too great, actually..."

"It's worth another shot," Beast kept his adamant glare on the heavens. "Literally."

He took a sharp breath, waiting for something to happen, or else pierce through the clouds and come at them in a sudden ambush. His body tensed and braced, and he curled his lip into a ready snarl.

A hand tugged at his arm.

"Beast," Gaston said.

Beast shrugged him away. "Let me concentrate."

"Beast, look-"

"I can do it."

"Beast!" Gaston grabbed his shoulder, pulling him the rest of the way back around.

"Gaston, we can't-"

"Look over there," Gaston told him, his voice laced with disbelief.

"What..."

Beast trailed off, his chest quivering with some forgotten emotion, as he followed Gaston's gaze.

Glowing in the misty distance, and set against the pastel-blue sky of earliest dawn, was the silhouetted outline of a castle, sat high upon a hill.

"...it can't be," Beast murmured, and for a moment he forgot everything else.

It was like a small beacon of hope, as slight as it seemed when there was still so much forest laid out before it. But it was still there. And they'd made it.

He turned to Gaston, in odd elation.

"It-it's my castle."

Gaston blinked at him, his face flushed with perspiration. Perhaps he was too exhausted to share in his enthusiasm.

"Are-are you sure?" he said warily.

Beast nodded, wanting to laugh.

"Yes. I'd know it even in my dreams."

Gaston wiped a hand over his brow. He smirked a bit.

"Well then. At least we know we're going in the right direction..." then he started to sag.

Beast quickly looped an arm around him as he sunk to his knees.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, just my damn foot," Gaston pushed him away. "Give me a minute."

"Okay," Beast sat down next to him.

He looked properly at their surroundings, where the yellowing grasses swayed against a warm breeze, and delicate looking daisies poked through every now and then. The sky flickered with the occasional speck of the first small morning birds, and they chirruped in a careless sort of way. It was all so peaceful and still.

Beast blinked back at Gaston. "It's alright. I think we can rest for a little bit."

Gaston frowned. "Is this another one of your 'hope for the best' sort of plans?"

"Would you prefer if I carry you?"

"Let's rest."

Beast nodded. "Anyway, looks like we lost that creature for a while, whatever it was."

"A harpy," Gaston said, as if it were nothing at all. He grimaced as he began pulling off his boot.

"...harpy?" Beast stared at him. "uh...aren't they supposed to be make-believe?"

Gaston shrugged. "What else could it be? Tell me you saw it's hideous face too, Beast. Or at least tell me I wasn't imagining it, to make me feel like I'm not going crazy."

"You weren't imagining it," Beast smiled at him, and then helped pull the rest of the bandaging off his foot.

"Anyway, you're the one who's always telling me how enchanted this place is," Gaston sneered, but in a softer way. "And while we're at it, aren't talking Beast's supposed to be make-believe too?"

Beast dipped his head in a short laugh.

"That may be. Though you know very well that I'm not really a talking Beast."

"You do look a lot like one, though. Admit it."

"You know what I mean, hunter."

"I know," Gaston's mouth curved into a smile, and it was almost coy. "A prince in disguise, then."

Beast was surprised and warmed by the words.

"You know, it sounds far more appealing when you put it like that, hunter."

"Yes. Better that, than an overgrown stinking man-bear, isn't it?"

"Shut up," Beast said, and began redressing his injury.

He couldn't even muster up the pretence of being properly annoyed at Gaston anymore.

He was just so relieved. Knowing that they were even talking again, and everything was back to normal.

Funny that 'normal' was now something so indefinable as an exchange of words or a certain look. Even something so (seemingly) insignificant as the tilt of a head or the curve of a mouth. But it all meant so much more now. Gaston had become so much more to him, Beast realised.

Beast knew that a few mere days in a strange forest didn't amount to much, but he also knew that he'd uncovered something secret in the hunter's heart, and perhaps it had been accidental, but it didn't change the fact that it was definitely there. Maybe he'd allowed himself to become too fascinated by it, though. He couldn't very well forget the hunter's unarmed face, and the halting way he'd spoken to him earlier that night. It was such a harsh contrast to everything he apparently stood for.

Gaston reached over, carelessly dusting some stray leaves off Beast's fur.

"You being royalty doesn't change a damn thing, you know."

Beast smirked at him. "Why is that, then?"

"Because I'm still going to call you 'Beast', no matter what you are."

"Hm. Still better than the other name."

Gaston looked confused for just a second, then he grinned roguishly; "Oh, you mean Per-"

Beast quickly covered his mouth with a paw.

"Don't even think it, hunter."

Gaston made a muffled sound which was more like a laugh, and Beast withdrew his paw, wanting to hear it more than anything else in that moment. Instead he could only admire the quick way the hunter managed to put his perfect sneer into place.

"Tell me your real name then, Beast," he said, like it was a dare. "I won't tell a soul, I promise."

"Hah. Because there's no soul to tell?"

"Exactly."

Beast snorted. "I'll tell you later perhaps, when we're out of the forest."

The idea that he'd tell Gaston anything like that (and that he wanted to) was not so strange anymore. It was only the thought of Belle that held him back, and that feeling of betrayal, for whatever reason, creeping at the back of his mind.

It was ridiculous, but he felt it even now, when he glanced at Gaston and noticed the way he angled his head, exposing the sculpted edges of his jawline, and it was as if everything about him was accentuated by the modest glow of morning.

Beast flushed with the thought of it.

"You're not telling me because your name actually is Perceval, isn't it?" Gaston said. "Don't deny it."

"My name is not Perceval. Sorry to disappoint you," Beast pulled some bandaging the rest of the way around Gaston's foot, and then leaned back to admire his handiwork. "How is that?"

"Mm. It's okay."

"I don't know. It might still need amputating, hunter."

Gaston poked him in the side with the tip of his boot, then stomped it experimentally back on the ground. "Feels much better, actually."

"You've just become numb to the pain," Beast said gravely, through a grin. "Probably the gangrene setting in, I'm sorry to say."

"Shut up, Perceval."

Beast laughed, and they sat in easy silence for a short while, watching the sun rise and peak over the high tree tops, dazzling the ground in warm rays.

The air was sweetening, and though the thunderstorm had passed, the remnants of humidity still clung to the air, suggesting it might come back yet.

It was all so picturesque, like the world was a painting just for them to sit back and admire. Beast had forgotten so much of that simple but perfect pleasure, before any of this had even happened.

He looked up at the castle again, and how it seemed to shine against the growing sunlight. There was something bittersweet about it all, now.

"If we keep walking through the day, we might reach the castle by tomorrow morning," he realised.

"Sounds about right," Gaston said, then slipped the rest of the way down onto his back, stretching his arms out with a lazy sigh. He shut his eyes.

Beast blinked at him, and stretched out too, smiling a bit.

"Or perhaps a little longer, then."

It didn't matter, home would still be waiting for them, whenever they got back.

88

88

"Since when did you know all about harpies, anyway?"

"I already told you. My mother was a great story-teller."

"Ah, I remember now," though Beast remembered more about the way Gaston had looked at him when he'd said that, before anything else.

The meadows were peaking and dipping in front of them, giving a good view of the shelter of trees in the near-distance. Beyond that, the last hill sloped steadily up, leading to their most final destination.

It was surreal knowing that they were so close to home, and with it, a flood of overwhelming memories returned to Beast's mind. His castle companions and associates, and Belle herself, reminding him of everything he thought he'd lost forever.

He glanced back at Gaston, who limped and complained leisurely about the tiny and usual things, like the state of his hair, or the way the sun kept getting in his eyes. He always neglected to say anything about his injured shoulder or foot, though.

Beast realised he wouldn't be able to look at the hunter or talk to him so needlessly often as he had done recently. There wouldn't be any reason to anymore.

He was going to miss it.

"...damn flies..." Gaston swatted some buzzing insect away from his face. "I'm going to kill them all in revenge when I'm feeling better."

Beast smiled privately to himself. Who was he fooling? He was going miss him.

"Did your mother tell you a lot of stories? I mean about more pleasant, less gruesome things, besides nasty faeries and monstrous harpies?"

Gaston laughed shortly, and stomped over some particularly high grasses. "She liked to keep me entertained, Beast. I like the sort of stuff with lots of action in it."

"Yes, with lots of killing, I've noticed."

"Well, it is exciting. Admit it."

"Not when you're the one being killed," Beast grabbed the hunter's elbow, before he tripped over some hidden rocks.

"True," Gaston blinked, wiping the perspiration from his brow. He looked at Beast in some amusement. "Do you want me to start reading romance books or something?"

"I didn't expect you'd want to start reading anything at all, actually."

"Hah. What can I say? You've twisted my arm a little."

Beast smiled at the ground, and slowly let go of him. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You're one to talk, Beast."

They took a moment to breathe; the air felt thick with a summery breeze, waving around them like some kind of temptation. It was strange, that the closer they got to the castle, the more Beast found himself wanting to stay exactly where he was.

"I still need to finish telling you the stories of Artemis, anyway," he remembered, all at once.

Gaston's smirk smoothed into a smile. "You better. I'm not giving you these fantastic hunting lessons without some sort of payment, you know."

Beast reached round the hunter's back, and pulled the last arrow from his quiver with a regretful face.

"There's only one left."

Gaston didn't look too bothered. "Better use it wisely, then."

They looked between each other, in a brief pause that was undecided in it's meaning. Beast didn't know if Gaston meant for him to keep the arrow, but the idea of it suddenly felt like far too huge a responsibility.

Beast quickly replaced it back in the quiver. "I hope I don't have to."

"Hah. You were fairly eager earlier, I noticed."

"That was different. I thought I'd have to."

Gaston looked at him in some amused resignation, like he might have expected the answer, then he blew some straying strands of hair out of his eyes before he started walking again.

"Beast, what do you think..." then he trailed off. "Never mind."

"What is it?"

"...I was just wondering what everyone will think, when we get back."

"You mean...of us?"

"I mean all of it, really."

Beast considered. "I don't know. It'll be one hell of a story to tell back at your tavern, though."

Gaston turned his head to look at him, his smirk kinder than it had ever been.

"I'm not sure they'll even believe me," he shook his head at the ground. "Never mind Belle's father, I'll be the one dragged to the insane asylum at this rate."

Beast halted, in a cold feeling of confusion.

"...asylum?"

"Uh-" Gaston froze, and his eyes locked with Beast's, traced with actual fear for a few seconds.

Beast noticed the harsh way the hunter swallowed, and then how he scowled at the sky, as if it were his enemy.

"I mean...it was a plan I had. Seemed a good idea at the time."

He walked a little way ahead, so that Beast could only see his back, and realise in a few darkening seconds what the hunter was actually telling him.

"You...you were going to send Belle's father to an insane asylum?"

Gaston didn't say anything, but it was as good as any sort of confirmation.

Beast frowned at his back. "How would that have helped anything?"

The silence between them was heavy, and Gaston stopped walking again, his shoulders seeming to shrink.

"I thought Belle would agree to marry me, if I told her I could help her father."

Beast felt a bit sick. "A forced marriage?"

Gaston looked over his shoulder at him, face set into a grimace that hovered onto something else.

"I already told you. I'm not a good person."

Beast stared at him, wanting to be angrier than he really was.

And yet the hunter's bared words, which held no pretence of anything but a dirty sort of honesty, made it almost impossible. Beast glared anyway, wanting something intangible to break between them, like the tension that always seemed to rise with every mention of Belle herself.

Gaston broke the meaningless stare-off, and started walking again.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "You can imagine, it didn't exactly do much to change her mind."

Beast heard the unsteady lilt in his voice, and he could tell that the hunter was swallowing all of his pride, and how difficult it must have been for him, to even admit he might be wrong in the first place.

As bizarre as it was, considering the hunter's despicable confession, Beast was kind of proud of him.

"Gaston."

Gaston seemed to flinch with the sound of his own name, and then again when Beast caught up to his side.

He kept his eyes ahead, shading them against the glare of the sun.

"I suppose you hate me now, Beast."

"I don't hate you."

Gaston looked round in some genuine surprise.

"You're so stupid," he muttered.

"Though I do wonder why I don't, sometimes," Beast smiled weakly.

"Must be all of this charisma. I'm full of it."

"You're full of something, but I won't say what."

"Touché," Gaston's smile cracked. "Look, I don't need you to tell me how wrong I was, Beast. I know very well-"

"I'm not going to tell you anything," Beast interrupted. "It's not for me to tell you what's wrong. But maybe you'd do better telling Belle that."

Gaston looked affronted by the idea, and Beast wanted to laugh.

"It's not that bad, you know. Learning you were wrong about something, hunter."

"Hah. Easy for you to say."

"You just admitted that you were wrong to me, didn't you?"

"Yes, but you're different. It's easier talking to you..." Gaston's voice faded, and his cheeks flushed pink as he turned hastily away. "It doesn't even matter anymore. I don't expect Belle will forgive me, anyway."

Beast smiled carefully at him.

"I don't know about that, hunter. Belle is a very forgiving woman. I should know."

They exchanged a look which was like understanding, but something even more amiable than that. It was like a moment of complete clarity between them, and Beast thought he could feel the very stricken emotions emitting from the hunter's unusually contemplative face.

Gaston blinked back at the distant horizon, watching the glow of the castle.

"We'll see, Beast," he said.

8

They reached the cover of forest again before the sky was turning golden, and the sunlight streamed through the gaps in the trees, dappling the ground in pretty spots of light. The trees chirped with birds, and leaves rustled with unidentified sounds that reminded Beast they weren't completely out of the woods, quite literally, just yet.

Gaston walked ahead, keeping up a prideful march even with his limp, though he did look tired and worn in a way that wasn't even physical anymore. Every now and then he told a story about a random hunting trip, which Beast was sure he'd heard already, but didn't mind at all. It was kind of needed, hearing the sound of his assured voice, even confident in it's exhaustion.

"You know, I think Lefou will be missing me," the hunter said thoughtfully, after a while.

"You think so?"

"Yes, definitely. No doubt he's got a search party out for me," Gaston smiled to himself, then glanced at Beast with a mocking scowl. "Do you think all that wretched furniture is out looking for their precious prince too?"

"They might just be glad to be rid of me," Beast admitted. "I didn't really do them any favours."

"I'd be mad about being turned into a teapot. Maybe not so much if I was a sword...or something like that."

Beast laughed easily. "You'd make a good sword, Gaston."

"Thanks," Gaston looked genuinely pleased. "You'd be a good throw rug. Perfect centrepiece for my tavern, thinking about it."

"Well stop thinking about it, then."

Gaston grinned as he pushed through some more shrubs, batting away Beast's poking paw.

"Fine, fine. I'm joking."

Amongst the calls of birdsong, they both heard the sound of water running close by, and beyond thorny shrubs they found a small brook threading through the forest, the clear water glistening against shots of sunlight.

After a few grateful gulps of it, Beast wiped his mouth, and his ears spiked with a grumbling sound. He glanced back up to see Gaston knelt nearby, rubbing his stomach.

"You should have eaten those birds I caught, earlier."

Gaston looked at him haughtily. "I would have, if only I wasn't so busy trying not to get killed by much bigger birds."

Beast blinked about the forest. "I can have a look around for something to eat."

"We'll both go. It'll be easier," Gaston stood up, kicking the water off his boots.

They followed the route of the small brook, since it seemed to be headed in their wanted direction anyway. It curved around trees and bramble, reaching an apparent end against a small slope upward, through some bushes. Beast parted them, finding a beautiful sight set before his eyes, and a sweet, fresh scent reaching his nostrils.

Within a modest clearing was what appeared to be a little orchard, full of different and thriving fruit trees; apples, oranges, pears and even some cherries, all popping colourfully out against the brilliant green translucent glow of leaves.

Beast looked over his shoulder, to see Gaston debating a couple of mushrooms with an unhappy face.

"Hey, come look at this."

"What?" Gaston blinked up.

He chucked the mushrooms on the ground, and half-ran the rest of the way to meet Beast. He stared at the fruit trees, and Beast noticed him licking his lips.

"You think it's safe?" Beast wondered.

Gaston pushed past Beast, so that he was in the middle of the clearing. He looked around him with some caution.

"I don't know," he said at last. "But I am starving."

Beast could happily agree with the sentiment, though it was hard not to look upon it all without some suspicion. It almost seemed too easy, as if the forest was offering up an age-old temptation that they should have known better about.

"Look, if they're poisoned or something, at least we didn't die hungry," Gaston decided for the both of them, and swiped a pear from a nearby tree. He took a tentative bite out of it.

Beast watched him anxiously.

"...is it okay?"

"...tastes good," Gaston nodded, after a moment. "Actually...tastes really good," he tossed one to Beast.

Beast took a bite, and the rich sweetness that met his tongue was more than 'really good', it was perhaps the best pear he'd ever tasted in his life, and he wasn't even that keen on them to begin with. He finished the fruit off in barely a couple more bites, and heard Gaston laughing at him.

"Passes the royal test, then," he said, then stretched his good arm out with some difficulty, trying to pick some oranges from another tree.

Beast didn't hesitate, and stepped behind him, gently lowering his arm.

"Don't do that, you'll tear the injury," then he reached above the hunter's shoulder, swiping the oranges with ease into his paws. "There you go."

Gaston blinked at him, as if deliberating between gratefulness and indignation. In the end he did neither, snatching the oranges off Beast with a sneer.

"Thanks."

Beast chuckled.

"You did say it would be easier with the two of us."

Gaston glared between the oranges and Beast, then chucked a couple at his chest.

"I suppose I did," he paused. "You can have all the damned apples, by the way."

Beast laughed.

"Fine by me."

8

The forest was soon humming with a soft evening heat, and the sky looked like it had been lit into flames with the hazy sunset, before Beast began to realise it was getting late, and that he'd lost sight of Gaston.

He looked around their little orchard, and eventually found him spitting cherry seeds out and scraping the mud off his boots against a tree.

"Thought I'd lost you again," Beast said. "Or you really were poisoned."

Gaston looked up at him with a vague smirk. "Must be disappointing. Did you eat all the apples?"

"Not too many. I prefer the oranges."

Beast walked the rest of the way over, and held out an arm, so that Gaston could lean against it as he regained his footing.

"Shall we rest here for the night?"

"If you want to," there was the edge of something else, like regret, in Gaston's dismissive voice. It was so slight, but Beast caught it anyway.

"What's wrong?"

Gaston shook his head quickly. "Nothing at all," then he smiled a bit. "Hah. Maybe that's what it is."

Beast tilted his head, but thought better than to question it. He also thought he might know what Gaston meant anyway, especially when the hunter was looking at him like that.

"So, besides taking a desperately needed bath, what's a prince to do when he gets back to his castle, hm? I'm guessing...fancy celebrations, stuff like that."

Beast laughed, with inadvertent bitterness. "I haven't seen those days for a long time, hunter. You can imagine being turned into a Beast puts a dampener on that sort of thing."

"I suppose it would," Gaston sounded sorry. "Didn't...didn't you say you were a good dancer?"

Beast thought he'd misheard him. "Dancer?"

"Yes, dancer," Gaston's smile curved up some more. "You told me you danced? Formally, or something."

"Yes," Beast hesitated. "...I suppose I did say that."

Gaston tipped his head.

"So show me."

Beast stared at him, and it was as if his heart had reached his ears, and it was all he could hear for a moment. Some frantic pounding at the back of his mind, as he tried to find the joke in either the hunter's voice or face.

But Gaston looked serious, and his mouth quivered, suggesting something else, too.

"Show you?" Beast repeated slowly.

"That's what I said," Gaston nodded, and twisted round a bit, so that he was properly facing Beast. "And I mean like a proper dance," his eyes narrowed just a fraction, like he was challenging him.

It was a challenge, Beast realised.

He began to wonder if this was anything but another one of those strange dreams he'd been having lately. Perhaps he'd wake up soon, and they'd be back in the dry grass and flowers, under cover of trees and close enough together, but still fretting about all the forest beasts that wanted to kill them...

"I taught you how to use a bow and arrow. Think of it as a fair trade-off," Gaston explained, as if it were the most obvious reasoning in the world.

He stepped closer, his expression now so familiar in it's determination, and everything that Beast had come to appreciate about that. About him, obviously.

And Beast felt himself nodding, and then stepping forward too.

"Very well," he rested his paws on Gaston's broad shoulders, careful not to press into the injured one. "I'll show you, hunter."

Gaston's defiant face flickered with the words, or maybe it was the sudden intimacy between them, as Beast curled his fingers against the fabric of shirt, finding muscle tensing against him. It was the only thing that might have betrayed the hunter's cocky attitude.

Beast's paw followed the defined curve around the hunter's back, and rested lightly there.

"Now, you do the same. Hand round my back."

"I know," Gaston said, and put his own arm quickly around Beast. "Like that?"

"Correct," Beast's skin prickled with the sudden heat that had settled around him, and then the different way the hunter was watching him. "Yes, that-that's good."

"Thank you, your Highness."

Beast snorted. "Stop that."

"Heh. Prefer 'Perceval' now, do we?"

"Please shut up for once," Beast curved his arm bodily the rest of the way around the hunter's back.

It was close enough that there was not even the tiniest space between them anymore, and he could suddenly feel the unsteady quiver of skin, a new heat, against his hold. The hunter's chest pressed and hitched into his own, and then a murmured sound of surprise followed it.

Gaston looked up at Beast through widening eyes; all of his bravado seeming to fall away, turning into something else. It wasn't exactly fear, either.

"So...now what?" his voice sounded hoarse.

Beast caught his other hand, carefully, in his paw.

"So now, relax."

Even through Gaston's hunting gloves, Beast could feel the warmth radiating through his palm, and the fingers that coiled and entwined automatically into his own, permeating into a grip that was like a couple of jigsaw pieces fitting together so perfectly, that it was almost a marvel in itself.

Gaston stared at their locked hands, then back up at Beast, as if realising it too.

"Alright, I'm relaxed," the hunter cleared his throat, exhaling in a way that suggested he wasn't at all. "...now what?"

"Now, check your feet," Beast nodded down, where their toes were almost touching.

"My feet have seen better days," Gaston said, rather mournfully.

"Well, we can work with that," Beast smiled around his nerves. "Footwork is the trickiest part to get right, you know."

"No problem," Gaston's fingers curled into his own a bit more. "I can do it."

"I'm sure you can. So...move your right leg like this...and then forward. Like so..." Beast tried to think; it was difficult to recall anything properly, since his brain felt too disjointed for some reason. "And then move back..."

Gaston copied the motion, his attention entirely concentrated on the ground.

"Like this?"

"Yes. Just remember to keep in time with me. That's the important thing."

Then they began to move, rather jaggedly, around the little clearing.

It wasn't entirely graceful, and it was probably very strange to look at, but Beast found himself forgetting all of that, with the dots of sunlight decorating the ground beneath them, and his heart aching in his chest at the beautifully warm glow of the entire forest.

Beast looked at Gaston's bowed head, with the same ache.

"Oh...and remember to keep your head up, hunter."

Gaston looked up at him at once, his eyes bright and soft in such a way that Beast wasn't prepared for.

"I'll remember," the hunter said, like a promise.

"Good...I'm sure you'll impress all the ladies with that...I mean, those moves."

Gaston shook his head, and looked at him strangely.

"I don't need any help impressing the ladies, Beast," he didn't even sound arrogant about it.

"You can impress someone else, then," Beast said, not thinking on it.

He dipped his head down, near to the hunter's shoulder, and his skin felt like it might be on fire, but he didn't want to put it out just yet.

Gaston's laugh was surprised, and Beast could so easily imagine his face in that moment. He curved his arm a bit tighter around him, drawing the hunter into something which was far more an embrace than any sort of excuse for a dance.

Their legs had stopped moving ages ago, anyway.

"I meant what I said before, Beast," Gaston said.

"...what's that?"

"I want to help you break the curse. I'll do whatever I can," the hunter tilted his head, close enough that it might've rested against Beast's chest.

Beast could feel the heat spreading there, and with it the deft drum of both of their hearts.

He curved his paw gently around the hunter's head. "...you would?"

Gaston nodded. "Heh. Am I impressing you enough, yet?" he asked, in a soft voice.

Beast nodded slowly, and it was a realisation that made his very heart twist and skip.

"More than anything."

He curled a paw under the hunter's chin, tilting his head up to catch his gaze. So many surreal and effortless thoughts reached his mind, and it was like finding someone for the first time, but feeling as though he'd always known them anyway.

Gaston smiled at him, but he looked tired.

"What about Belle?"

"Huh?"

The world came back into sharp focus with the words, and it was like waking from a long and disorientating dream.

Beast blinked a couple of times, and Gaston's hands pushed him away, just a little.

"Belle," the hunter repeated. "You know. The one we've been fighting about."

Beast tried to clear his throat. "I...what about Belle?"

"Well. She loves you."

The hunter spoke as if it were the most obvious statement in the world, and yet at the same time it gripped at Beast's heart, like some huge revelation he'd never known before that moment.

"How are you so sure?" he asked, voice breaking oddly with the words.

"Because I know everything, remember," the hunter attempted to sneer, and started to move away.

Beast kept him in place, paws curling on his back.

"Gaston, please."

Gaston looked to the side, his face mildly irritated. Then he sighed, and it was like a surrender.

"Fine," he looked past Beast's shoulder. "When Belle looked at you in that enchanted mirror, I knew it then. I knew how much she cared about you, Beast."

Beast stared at him, almost as taken by his unguarded face as he was by his actual words.

Gaston took another breath, and it was as if he was bracing himself, or else the words themselves might hurt him.

"I couldn't understand before, why she'd care about something...someone like you. But...I think I know now," his voice faded, and he rubbed a hand roughly over his brow. "I think I know."

"Gaston-"

"Beast," Gaston interrupted quickly, and pushed back so that he wasn't able to keep a proper hold on him any longer. "Do you wonder what will really happen, when we get out of this place?"

"What...what do you mean?"

"Well, Belle knows you're no monster, but nobody else does," there was a heavy pause between them. "Are you very worried about it?"

Beast hesitated.

"I can't say I've thought too much on it. But perhaps the townspeople will be understanding, if Belle has explained it all to them."

Gaston shook his head.

"They won't listen to Belle. I made sure of that," there was nothing vindictive or malicious in his voice. "But don't worry, I'll tell them. I'll tell them you're not...really what I thought you were," the corners of his mouth turned up in a grin that tried to be more than it really was. "It'll be easy. Everyone listens to me."

"Gaston..."

Beast hardly knew what to say to him.

He could only really register the soft edges of moonlight catching across the hunter's face, and then the vague realisation that it was already night time. Time didn't seem to count for anything now, or else it just seemed there wasn't enough of it anymore.

Beast bowed his head.

"I...thank you, hunter."

Gaston took another step away from him, his grin dissolving just a bit.

"Don't mention it."

They stood in the growing dark, watching each other for some long minutes. Then Gaston turned away.

"Night, Beast."

88

Beast found himself back in the forest again.

He looked around, his attention immediately drawn to the line of arrows on the ground. Now he remembered; they were the ones that had led him back to the castle in the first place.

Only this time they were pointing away, back into the depths of the forest.

Beast frowned. That couldn't be right. What was the point in going backwards, retreading old ground?

But he followed them anyway.

They stopped abruptly and at nothing in particular. There was no object they might be pointing at, nor even a dead end. They just stopped.

The eerie quiet of the forest only reminded him that Gaston wasn't there, and he looked about, as if he might join him as soon as he thought of him.

Wasn't that how dreams worked, sometimes?

He was disappointed when nothing like that happened.

He knelt down, picking up one of the arrows in his hand. Oh yes, his  hand . He had forgotten he was human again.

Somehow it was only a small detail now.

He blinked back up at the growing blackness of forest, his chest tightening when a clap of thunder made the trees tremble and light up in front of him, and then the shadow of something moved through them. Though he couldn't tell what it might be, he knew that it was human.

When it turned round, he thought he knew what it might be, though he didn't know it's name.

He dropped the arrow, and ran after it.

88

88

Another rumble of thunder woke him, and Beast sat up and looked thoughtlessly about, a paw fumbling automatically for something that wasn't there. He blinked to his side as he adjusted to the darkness, finding only the abandoned bow and quiver lying next to him.

"...Gaston?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

There was another roll of thunder, and then a sheet of lightning, which illuminated the entire forest in white light, before rain began pouring harshly through the trees.

Beast lurched to his feet, snatching up the bow and arrow with him.

He didn't like to think the worst, but he couldn't help it anymore.

Perhaps Gaston wasn't very far away at all, and he was probably fine, but the point was he couldn't risk perhaps or probably anymore.

He padded cautiously about, slinging the bow and quiver itself onto his shoulder, listening anxiously to the sounds of owls and cricket cheeps, that merged with the quick patter of rain. The forest fell silent for a few seconds that made Beast's stomach flip, and instinct told him something was very wrong.

Another burst of lightning flashed brilliantly across the sky, and he looked up, seeing the huge silhouette set against it, before the dreadful and familiar shriek that followed.

Huge wings spanning an endless length, talons coiling, and body moving like a blackened spear, focused on something directly beneath it.

It swept down with another shriek, disappearing into the forest just ahead of him.

There followed a very human cry, and Beast's heart clenched with the sound of it.

He dropped on all fours, and ran, faster than he ever had; the forest becoming a blur of colour and rainwater for some frantic few minutes.

The thunder rolled once more, before Beast finally reached the flying shape of the harpy.

She was screeching at something, feathers beating so powerfully that gusts wind hit Beast's face. He squinted through the rain and wind to find her prey.

Gaston was crouched against the gutted inside of a dead tree trunk, attempting to ward the creature off with a tree branch. Beast would have commended him for his (idiotic) fearlessness, but there wasn't time anymore.

He pulled the last arrow from the quiver, before steadying it in the bow.

A brief myriad of doubts reached his mind, along with the steadfast and encouraging words of Gaston himself. They all bunched together to create some confused knot that reached his stomach. Something that made him realise that he couldn't know for sure what would happen; only that he had to try and save the hunter.

He drew back the arrow, and watched it fly with the simultaneous flash of lightning, hitting the harpy directly in it's back.

It screamed and arced backwards, sound reverberating through the heavens for some drawn out seconds. Then it dropped, wings spasming around it, before finally becoming motionless on the ground.

The rain fell heavier and faster through the skies, but through it all Beast could see Gaston slowly standing up.

"Gaston-!"

The hunter looked at him through wide eyes; "Beast...?"

Beast ran the rest of the way to meet him. "Are-are you alright?"

"...I'm fine."

Beast nodded, though he could see blood mingling with the rain, rushing down the hunter's neckline and reaching his collarbone.

The very sight of it, and then the thought of what might have happened to him, made Beast's heart race up and into his mouth, in an uncontrolled sweep of emotion. Without thought, he pulled the hunter roughly into his chest.

It wasn't so much an embrace as it was a fierce and defiant sort of hold.

"Don't do that again."

"Mmf."

Beast loosened his grip, and Gaston pulled away, spitting fur from his mouth. He looked at Beast in a way that wanted to be more annoyed than he was.

"Don't do that ever again," he said. "At least not without warning me first."

"Sorry," Beast grinned weakly. "Guess I'm not so bad with a bow and arrow, after all."

Gaston snorted as he brushed himself down.

"Only because you were taught by the best," then he did smile. "That wasn't bad at all, actually."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to you genuinely complimenting me, hunter."

"So don't get used to it," Gaston warned, but his smile became easier.

Beast laughed, then noticed Gaston's cape strewn out on the floor. It was piled up with a bunch of fruit.

"What were you even doing out here?"

Gaston shrugged, and looked sheepishly to the side.

"Thought I'd surprise you with some breakfast in the morning. See, I'm not completely terrible."

Beast smiled, genuinely touched by the thought.

"You're wonderful."

"Ahem," Gaston looked away, in some kind of embarrassment. "Listen, Beast-"

A flash of white lit up his face before he could finish any of it, then a shrill sound violated Beast's ears.

He spun round on instinct, and a stabbing pain coursed through his chest all at once.

There were claws and feathers and more screams, shrouding him in a horrible cacophony of noise, before the pain briefly relented.

He hit the ground with an unforgiving thud, and it took some precious seconds to realise the harpy had dropped him from a great height through the air. Dazed and burning with a hot pain on his chest, Beast staggered up onto all fours, trying to blink away the blur that was interrupting his vision.

The harpy was flying circles in the sky, her horrific call reaching over the sounds of thunder. Lightning stemmed across the clouds behind her as her wings stretched, and she started toward the ground again.

Beast ran in front of Gaston, pushing him aside, and countering knife-like claws with his own.

Feathers and fur flew through the air, but Beast knew that the creature's first blow had been it's most deadly.

He could already feel the strength within him ebbing way, before he collapsed onto his side in a coil of distant pain. The harpy's screams encumbered his ears once more, and he wondered abstractedly how Gaston might escape, as the creature curved it's head, ready to finish him off.

Then a shining arrow slit through the air, and into it's chest. The harpy's body hung stilted and like a gargoyle for what seemed like an age, then her cry shattered the skies, enough to make skin crawl and blood curdle beneath it, before she fell to the ground, close to Beast and completely still.

A choking gasp reached Beast's ears. He blinked slowly up.

"Beast!"

Gaston was standing there and staring at him, his face paper-white and the bow shaking violently in his hand. He dropped it, and knelt down with another gasp.

"Beast..."

But at least he was safe. It was good enough.

Beast smiled with the thought, and closed his eyes.

88

88

Chapter Text

88

88

Belle was not the type of person to wait around for anyone.

Quite the contrary, she lived for adventure, and she wasn't planning to just sit around waiting for her Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet. That was exactly the sort of thing she'd been trying to avoid with Gaston, after all.

She scowled unconsciously with the thought of the hunter. A very large part of her hoped she'd never see him again.

But she also knew, with that hope, she'd be saying goodbye to the Beast too.

Even though it had been assumed that both Beast and Gaston had perished in the fall from the castle, Belle thought differently. She'd decided to stay at the castle for a while, if only to put the wishful ideas to bed once and for all.

Perhaps if she stayed long enough she'd be able to convince herself that he wasn't coming back, and all those ever-growing rumours that she truly was 'a funny girl, that Belle' would stop.

Even her own father was beginning to wonder.

"Belle, dear. Won't you come back to the village for a little while?" he grasped her hands in his own, rather too hopefully.

"I can't yet, papa. Just a few more days. That's all I need."

It wasn't like the town was missing her. Since losing their golden boy and 'town hero', most people seemed to have decided that it was her fault that Gaston had disappeared. Nobody seemed to care about the Beast, or wanted to confront the very real prospect that the entire castle was enchanted. It was as if it didn't exist anymore, and so in a way she could take refuge within it, and feel safe for a little while.

"Very well, dear," Maurice nodded, and reluctantly left her there. "I'll come back soon."

"Be careful."

It wasn't just sentimental attachment that kept Belle close to the castle, either.

Whenever she edged a bit too near to the forest, trying to spot the movement of something she was sure might have been a person (how often it seemed to happen now), she found herself holding her breath in unknown anticipation, and waiting for something to emerge from it.

The feeling had been growing stronger and stronger with each passing day.

88

88

88

The rain was still falling, but it was getting lighter now; like a soothing shower, warm with the humid heat of the night. The trees moved in a casual breeze that matched it, and it was as if the forest was meekly apologising for the horror of only a few moments ago.

Gaston couldn't feel any of it. His body felt numb, trembling with the edges of shock. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to swallow the terrible nausea that had reached his throat.

"Beast...are you-are you okay?"

It was a stupid question, and he already knew the answer, but it was much easier to pretend that he didn't.

Things had been going too well, that was the trouble, because nothing ever seemed to go well for very long in this damned forest.

"...Beast," his hands were shaking, as he touched the bloodied pelt. "Please."

Beast made a murmured noise, and his eyes fluttered open.

"...it's just a scratch, hunter," he smiled weakly.

Gaston laughed, but it was like a sound of desperately wanted relief.

He wiped an arm roughly over his eyes, and swallowed again.

"Hah...you idiot, Beast."

"So charming, as usual," Beast's smile stretched a bit, then he closed his eyes again.

"No, don't..."

Gaston pressed his hands back into Beast's chest, and cursed as the blood oozed out between his gloved fingers, mixing fast into the rain. He knew the wounds were far too deep; stricken all across the Beast's chest and stomach, and staining so much of his fur a deep scarlet.

It was some wonder he wasn't already dead.

Gaston shook the thought angrily out of his mind, and clenched his jaw, in some fresh determination.

"It...it's alright. We can fix this, Beast. No problem."

He looked around, and then spotted his abandoned cape a few feet away. He rushed to pick it up, scattering long forgotten fruit everywhere else.

He turned back with a briefly victorious face.

"See, we can use this."

Beast blinked slowly at him, and made a murmured sound that could have meant anything. He looked doubtful.

Undeterred, Gaston quickly wove the cape around Beast's back, tightening it around his stomach and chest so that it covered the wounds completely. It would have to do, for now.

Beast snarled with the contact, an arm flailing randomly out and his teeth flashing in pain.

"Sorry," Gaston recoiled, but managed to keep his hands pressed firmly on the cape, and against the injury. "It-it's going to hurt, alright."

Beast growled again, and there was an incredulous look in his eyes. They looked paler than usual.

"...Gaston, I can't..."

"Don't say that," Gaston said through his teeth. "And don't-"

There was a snapping of leaves and twigs somewhere close behind him, like footsteps. Gaston twisted round, braced and expecting the harpy to have risen from the dead somehow. Anything seemed possible at this point.

"Who's there?" he balled his hands into tight fists.

The trees only swayed quietly in answer, against the gentle patter of rain, and a small bird flitted through the air. Gaston held his breath, glaring suspiciously between every slight rustle of leaves, every creak of a branch, trying to find something out of place.

He thought he saw the gleam of a shape, blinking through some leaves, though it could have been the moonlight, or else his own overwrought imagination.

Eventually, his eyes rested upon the body of the harpy.

Her face was mostly covered by creeping tree shadows, but her warped mouth, full of needle-sharp teeth, was visible enough, frozen into a permanent snarl.

Gaston turned back to Beast, his stomach flipping.

"Can...can you get up?"

"...I don't think so."

"You have to try," Gaston knelt a bit closer, and then looped the Beast's huge arm all around his shoulder, before he could protest any of it.

Gaston started to stand up, hauling the Beast with him.

He gasped with the effort; the Beast was far heavier than anything else he'd ever lifted in his entire life, but in a way it only made him more determined about it. And he'd always liked a challenge, hadn't he?

Smiling grimly with the thought, he managed to pull the Beast upright, so that he half hung against his injured shoulder. The sharp pain there was only incidental now, as was the tired protest of every other limb in his abused body.

He could tolerate it, if he could just focus on getting the Beast back onto his feet again.

"...hunter, I can't..."

"Of course you can," Gaston interrupted, unable to bear any other sort of answer. "It's easy."

There was another snarl, more defiant this time, and close to Gaston's ear.

He felt the weight shift against his shoulder, and with it a temporary relief. He staggered, and then slid his gaze up to look at the Beast. He was leaning against him very heavily, and panting hard.

But he was also standing up.

Gaston grinned, allowing himself an inappropriate moment of smugness.

"...see. What did I tell you, Beast? Easy."

"Only because...you're so stubborn, hunter."

Beast's paw fumbled against Gaston's bad shoulder, and Gaston bit back a groan, but was otherwise unaffected by any of it. He tested the weight against his side as he took a step forwards, and the Beast limped into a clumsy sync with him.

"It's not stubborn. It's called brilliant. Get it right, Beast."

"Right," Beast laughed weakly. "If you say so."

They walked very slowly, pushing through wet bramble and shrubs, mostly blind against the heavy shelter of trees, but also the night itself. The moon was almost hidden, but every now and then it peeked shyly through the tree branches, and Gaston distantly imagined it as some sort of guide, telling them where to go next.

Truthfully, he had no real idea where they were going anymore. The silhouette of the castle was lost when they were in the thick of the forest, and he could only hope that they were still headed in the right direction.

"It's not far now, anyway," he said, more to reassure himself.

The Beast staggered over some uneven ground, and Gaston grimaced as he fought to keep him upright. Attempting to support the Beast was like his guilt had taken on a physical form, pushing and grinding into him, needlessly reminding him that this was all his own fault.

Attempting one simple good deed had gotten them in a worse state than before. Gaston thought he'd never attempt another one ever again, if this was the thanks he got for it.

And it had been so unlike himself, Gaston realised. He hadn't even taken the damn bow and arrow with him.

Of course he hadn't, he'd been too busy thinking about other things.

Beast angled his head a bit, so that Gaston could feel fur brushing against his skin, and then the laboured breath of the Beast, so close, and he wanted to look at him.

Instead he cursed under his breath, cheeks blazing, as he realised his own weakness.

"...what?" Beast's voice sounded too faint, despite the proximity.

Gaston cleared his throat.

"Nothing...just thinking about things."

"Again? I- I'm really starting to worry about you."

"Not funny," Gaston said, and searched the high tree tops for something more adequate to say, as if that'd help anything. "Anyway, we can't give up now. I've still got to show you how to hunt properly."

He felt Beast's short laugh.

"You think I'm joking, Beast, but I'm not," Gaston managed to smirk, and adjusted the weight around his shoulders. "You're going to be in complete awe, I promise."

"...I'm sure I will be."

"And you need to finish telling me about all the terrible things that the huntress Art...Art-"

"Artemis," Beast supplied, and sounded like he might be smiling.

"Yes, that awful woman. You need to finish telling me about how many more poor hunters she killed off."

"...oh, she wasn't adverse to murdering children, either..."

"What?" Gaston pulled a face, as he navigated them over some particularly thick tree roots. "Why does it always have to end in some kind of murder?"

"Heh. I thought you liked those kinds of stories?"

"Well. I'm allowed to change my mind sometimes, aren't I?"

"Of course."

It was then that the Beast groaned, and Gaston tensed, thinking for an overly optimistic moment that he'd be able to keep the Beast on his feet, but it was a futile battle.

The sagging weight was insurmountable, bringing back an old flare of agony in Gaston's shoulder. It reminded him, in a bittersweet moment, of wolves in the snow, and then Beast's face, looking at him with an undeserved and startling amount of compassion.

He'd seen that face so many times in these past few days, he didn't think he'd ever forget it, even if he never saw the Beast again.

Gaston wiped a shaking arm over his brow.

"Okay...we can stop for a while," he said, as if they had any choice about it.

Beast sunk the rest of the way down onto the ground, and lay on his side with an exhausted grunt. The blood on his pelt looked black against the night.

Gaston sat down next to him, his back lightly touching the Beast's as he rested his arms on propped knees with a heavy sigh. He peered up through the trees to see little dots of stars speckling the sky. He couldn't remember the last time the night had been so full of them.

It was still raining, and there was the distant and muffled drum of thunder somewhere beyond sight, though it wasn't frightening in the way it had been when the harpy had attacked. Somehow this sound was lulling, a comforting companion to the warm rain.

For just a moment, when Gaston briefly closed his eyes, he could imagine that everything was okay again.

"Gaston?" Beast said, in a weaker voice.

"Hmm?"

"Did you...did you mean what you said about Belle the other day?"

"What about Belle?" Gaston opened his eyes.

"I mean, about her caring about me."

Gaston looked at the ground, the weight of the question was so clear in the Beast's earnest voice. Gaston knew he couldn't have protested it, or lied about it, even if he'd wanted to.

And he wanted to. That was the worst thing.

He rubbed his temples, and turned his head to look at the Beast.

"I'm sure she does. Don't worry about that."

Beast smiled wearily. "You're not just trying to make me feel better, are you?"

"Now why would I bother to do that?" Gaston tried to sneer. "Hah. You really must have a winning personality, Beast. Is all I can say," he turned away, because looking at the Beast was becoming too difficult, for whatever reason.

He closed his eyes again, but was unable to keep the Beast out of his mind's eye, either.

So annoying.

"It is...surprising, that's all," Beast said softly. "To think she might care."

It made Gaston's chest hurt.

"It's not like I enjoy admitting it, Beast," he said quickly. "You think it's easy for a guy to get over the fact that a woman prefers an actual Beast to himself? That's kind of ego-destroying, you know."

Beast's back moved with a chuckle. "Well, your ego is very delicate."

"You know nothing. My ego is perfect."

Beast laughed some more, and it made Gaston smile. "I'm sure you'll get over it, hunter."

"Hah. I think I might. That's the strangest thing."

"Stranger things have been happening."

"I suppose they have..." then Gaston felt a sudden warmth move over his hand.

He blinked down, to see the Beast's huge paw curling around his fingers, in a careful but definite hold.

The Beast smiled at him, but it was in a pained way.

"Gaston," he murmured, after a moment. "Do you want me to tell you why I was cursed like this?"

Gaston straightened. "But I thought you couldn't-"

"I was a very arrogant person," Beast interrupted quickly. "And selfish and cruel..." he hesitated, then blinked at Gaston with a warm face. "A bit like yourself, really."

Gaston attempted to look insulted.

"Are you trying to make me feel better? Because you're really awful at it, Beast."

Beast shook his head, still smiling.

"So I was cursed in accordance with that...and I suppose it was fitting, considering my own vanity."

Gaston blinked at him.

"Again, not a very good pep talk, considering our situation. I have a good mind to just leave you here. Right now."

Beast's smile broadened a bit, and Gaston was only compelled to return it.

The paw on his hand became tighter for a few seconds.

"Well. If you must leave me, I'm glad that all of this happened. I'm glad I got to know you better, hunter."

Gaston stared at him, the words pulling terribly at some neglected emotion. He laughed harshly.

"You think I'm just going to leave you here, after we've been through wolves, bears, harpies...even damned poisonous mushrooms? Don't be an idiot."

Beast looked at him as if he'd just been paid a compliment. His smile became more fragile.

"Is it so terrible, then," he said slowly. "that I wished you really were just trying to make me feel better about Belle?"

"You..." Gaston's words caught in his mouth, trying to gather the implications of what the Beast had told him (as if he'd ever been very good at that, anyway).

A small silence hung around them, in which only the sound of Beast's laboured breathing and the peaceful shiver of wind through leaves seemed to exist. It had finally stopped raining.

Gaston swallowed down whatever was left of his misplaced pride, and picked up his bow, turning it distractedly around in his hands.

"You were always right about me anyway, Beast."

Beast's ear pricked with curiosity, and Gaston was encouraged by it.

"I didn't come to your castle to save anyone."

It was a huge relief to say it, and he didn't wait for the Beast's response. He just had to speak, or else he was sure he wouldn't be able to admit any of it ever again.

"I came to the castle to kill you, that's all it was. I didn't do it to protect my town, and I wasn't being noble or brave," he bowed his head, trying to gather together thoughts that were running away from him. It felt like he was running out of time, somehow. "I wasn't being any sort of hero."

There was a murmured sound, like the Beast might be acknowledging his words.

Gaston looked at him with a forced smile. "Hah. Sometimes I wonder what I'd have done, if I was cursed like you. I don't think I'd have handled it so well."

Beast gathered Gaston's hand up a bit more.

"Maybe this is your curse," he said. "The forest...everything that's been happening to us. Maybe this is your punishment?"

Gaston shook his head slowly, and it was more like a realisation to himself, as he stared at the Beast's paw.

"No. I don't think that can be. It doesn't really feel like a punishment anymore."

He imagined the Beast staring at him, though he didn't dare look to find out his real reaction.

"I-I've never even talked to anyone like I've talked to you, Beast. Of all the people I've known...and I know a lot of people. It's strange, isn't it? Everybody would think I've lost my mind."

He laughed, and it was full of nerves.

"See...look what you've done to me, Beast."

There was a moment of baited breath, in which Gaston dreaded the Beast's response. He still wanted it, though.

Instead, he felt the gentle heat against his hand slacken, and then it fell away.

"...Beast?"

Gaston turned around, his heart dropping.

The Beast's eyes were shut, and his mouth hung open slightly. His body had become very still.

"Beast!"

Gaston clutched at his fur, shaking him roughly by his tattered clothes. He was only distantly relieved to find the dim thud of a heartbeat against his palm.

He shook the Beast again, and again, until his own breath was panting out in an exhausted panic, and something irritating was prickling at his eyes.

Gaston stood up in a rush, and grabbed hold of Beast's arm in some furious desperation.

"No," he cried, and pulled at it rather uselessly. "Get up!"

A shocked pain met his straining shoulder, and he felt his barely knitted wound tearing open, spilling a generous amount of blood all down his arm.

Gaston hissed through his teeth, ignoring it. He dropped Beast's paw and moved around to his back. There, he began pushing his own back against him, his boots grinding and slipping into the wet earth, with each weakening effort to push him up.

"Get! Up!"

His legs began to buckle beneath him, and floored between exhaustion and despair, he sunk back down onto his knees.

He glared at the Beast, feeling inexplicably betrayed.

The Beast couldn't die; they'd come too far for that, and now they were too close.

"You can't do this..."

He curled his fingers harshly into the Beast's fur, and clung to a soft but fading heat.

"I-I wish I'd killed you."

His embittered laugh dissolved into a sob.

"...everything would have been so much easier, then."

88

He blinked, and found himself standing in the familiar tranquillity of forest. He never thought he'd be so glad to see it, and then the Beast's kind face too.

"Are you alright?" Beast asked him. He looked concerned about something, as usual.

"Of course, are you?"

Beast nodded. "Seeing you, I am."

"Are..." Gaston looked at the ground. "I know this is a dream."

Beast didn't look very put out by it.

"So?"

Gaston shrugged, more to himself. He looked at Beast again, and attempted to keep his smile.

"I thought you'd be back at the castle by now."

"Well, I'm just waiting for you to catch up."

Gaston stared at him. "But I'm right here."

The Beast shook his head, and looked away, in a gesture of regret.

"There's still a long way to go. I'm sorry I left you behind."

"But you didn't-"

"But it's okay. I'll wait up for you," Beast carried on, as if Gaston wasn't even talking. As if he wasn't even there. "I promise."

It was confusing more than irritating.

"Beast, are you-"

"I promise I'll wait for you."

"...okay," Gaston felt himself nod, as though any of it made sense.

As he turned around, something willing him away from the Beast, he knew that he was already gone.

He looked over his shoulder, anyway.

The shadows of the forest looked darker than usual, but he found he wasn't afraid of them, even as they began creeping in on him, turning everything to black.

88

The dream startled him awake, or maybe he was only falling into another dream.

It was as though he were trapped within that strange time between dreaming and waking, where reality didn't quite exist yet. The lines were blurred, making it impossible to tell any sort of difference.

Gaston opened his eyes anyway, finding the forest edged with a glowing fuzziness, though he didn't know if it was his vision failing him or the forest itself playing tricks. He curved his fingers against Beast's still form, just to make sure he still existed.

He had little time to register anything else, before he caught the glimmer of something indistinguishable moving, between the trees.

"Who's there?" he sat up a bit. "Come out!"

The movement became more solid then, like the vague outline of a person, standing between trees. Gaston staggered to his feet, clutching his exposed shoulder but bearing the pain well enough as he crept toward it.

"Who are you?" he demanded, forgetting all of his fear. There was nothing else left to lose, anymore. "Show yourself!"

The shape seemed to dissolve before his eyes, and then it became a shot of darting light, weaving in between trees like a silverfish.

Gaston didn't wait; something was drawing him toward it, in the same way he'd spotted the deer at the lake, and how compelling and necessary it had been to keep his eyes on it.

It was like some magnetic pull belonging to the forest itself, the willowy tree branches beckoning to him, the warm night wind gently pulling him along an invisible path, and he had no choice but to follow it.

He brushed through the trees and shrubs, forgetting everything else for some dangerous moments.

Then, through parted shrubs, the light came back into his vision, and seemed to dance across a small pool of water.

The moonlit sky reflected ethereally into it, and the surface glittered in a way that reminded Gaston of something that he couldn't quite place in his mind.

He knelt down and dropped his bow, reaching out a tentative hand with some strange and instinctive urge that he didn't even have the mind to question. He lightly touched the cool water's surface.

At first he thought it was a trick of the moonlight; as very thin strands of silver began to reach from the tips of his gloved fingers, and then spooled slowly out onto the surface of the water.

In the same moment, he felt suddenly light-headed, and a faint pressure reached the base of his chest, like something was pressing into it. He retracted his hands from the water, and briefly closed his eyes against the ache that had formed in his head.

"I wouldn't do that, hunter."

Gaston jumped with the sound of a fragile yet contrarily enticing voice.

He blinked, and then he saw the rippling reflection of a woman's face, staring back at him from across the pool.

Gaston stood up on automatic defence, reaching around for his bow, which was laughable in itself since he had no arrows anymore. It was still a small comfort, though.

The woman, whoever she was, stood in a casual repose, as if she'd always been there, just observing him. She wore a long and wispy earth-green gown, and her body curved a graceful posture, even though she was only standing there.

"How...how long have you been there?" Gaston looked at her warily.

"Longer than you might expect," she tilted her head, the corners of her mouth arcing up a bit.

Gaston wouldn't have described her as beautiful, at least not in the same way that he considered someone like Belle might be.

Her beauty was not in the way her eyes shone, or the unmarked glow of her skin, or even the way her hair seemed to move like a soft ember in the dark. There was something supernatural about her, and it made Gaston feel uneasy, as if she might even be dangerous, though he'd never admit it, of course.

He levelled her a well-worn glare.

"Who are you?"

She smiled, as if she'd expected the question.

"Be calm, hunter. I've been watching you for some time, as it happens."

"You didn't answer the question. Who are you?"

"Who I am is irrelevant," she tipped her head briefly away, showing off an elegant profile. "Although the prince has called me an enchantress."

Gaston sneered through his disbelief.

"Don't play games with me, woman. This isn't some fairy story-"

"Oh, I'm not a fairy, hunter," she laughed melodically, then looked thoughtful about it. "Though I suppose I could be that too, if you wanted."

A white light popped in front of Gaston's eyes, and the figure of the woman vanished.

In her place a small creature glowed across the pool, and it flew over to him in a tiny orb of light, like a firefly.

Gaston stumbled backwards, raising his bow up sort of pointlessly, as the orb flitted around his face.

"Is that better?" she asked him.

Gaston shook his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

He must still have been dreaming. Faeries were not real, they were only stories. Certainly women who claimed to be able to turn into faeries right before his eyes could not be real.

But then, harpies were not supposed to be real, either. Nor terrible curses that turned princes into beasts, for that matter...

He took another step back, swallowing in angry denial when the creature refused to leave his vision, or else he just couldn't wake up.

"You're just a part of my dream," he tried to bat her away. "I'm still dreaming."

The 'fairy-witch' looked disappointed, and then the light around her snapped brightly, before she was the figure of the woman again, standing on the other side of the pool.

She shook her head regretfully.

"The prince didn't take me very seriously either, and you see where that got him. Though I have to say, he's been taking it all much better recently."

Gaston stared at her, the realisation reaching him in a mist of anger.

"You did that? You placed the curse on him?"

She nodded, eyes looking dispassionately past him.

"Yes. It was unfortunate."

"How...how can you justify turning him into that? He wasn't...he isn't even a bad person!"

The enchantress smiled at him strangely.

"Yes, he's changed rather a lot, hasn't he? I'm very proud of him."

Gaston snarled, and lifted his bow high in his hand. "I should kill you now!"

She laughed again, as if he'd told a joke.

"Such passion, hunter. Though you always did have that going for you," she seemed to consider him, up and down. "But I do wonder, why it makes you so passionate? That's the interesting part, isn't it?"

"You-" Gaston felt his cheeks burning, still in anger, but also with some new and uncomfortable feeling, like he'd been exposed.

She knew him. She knew every tiny conflicted thought or doubt or emotion he'd found himself stumbling upon in these past few days. He could tell by the way she looked at him; every reflective flicker in her eye, every fractional twitch of her mouth.

And then her mouth moved again, another smooth and considered line.

"But I must say, I never expected things to develop in quite the way they did. Yes, it has been very interesting watching you, hunter."

Gaston dropped his bow on the ground and curled his shaking fists. "My existence isn't all for your mere entertainment, witch."

"Your continued existence is a miracle in itself, hunter," she waved away his words. "The moment I chose to put you in my forest, I saved your life. Please be mindful of that."

"Your forest?" Gaston scoffed. "So this was all your doing? The forest, the creatures...everything?"

"Not everything. You did most things for yourself, in actual fact. That was most impressive."

Gaston rubbed his temples, for once immune to any sort of flattery. He could feel his already tenuous thread of patience fraying away.

"Why...why would you do this? Why would you even save me?"

She shrugged.

"Why not kill two birds with one stone, hunter?"

Gaston frowned in confusion. "What do you mean to say, witch?"

"I saw an opportunity, and I wasn't alone in that, apparently. The prince saw himself in you, too."

"I'm no prince," Gaston scoffed.

"That is not the point."

"Then what is?!"

She gave him a patient look.

"If anyone would have given you a second chance, it would have been him."

Gaston glared at the ground. He didn't want to confront the truth in her words, only because he knew he couldn't deny them.

Hadn't the Beast always given him the benefit of the doubt, and helped him all along, even when he'd so stubbornly resisted it? Hadn't the Beast always been there, despite everything Gaston had done, or attempted to do? Despite his own wretched and murderous self?

The Beast had given him his second chance, and so many more, besides that.

"It's not every day something so wonderful happens to a mortal. You should think yourself lucky, hunter."

"Lucky?" Gaston turned his glare on her. "You almost killed me, numerous times! My shoulder feels like hell, my leg feels like it might fall off. And...and the Beast is dying! What should I possibly feel lucky about?"

The 'enchantress' smiled at him in an enigmatic way.

"I thought that would be obvious, hunter."

She knelt down to the pool of water again, her long fingers brushing over it and making small ripples that reached over to Gaston's side.

"But mortals have an old habit of missing what is right in front of them, I've noticed. It can't be helped, though."

"Listen, witch-"

"You said you wanted to break the prince's curse, hunter," she interrupted. "Do you still want to do that?"

Gaston's throat went dry with the sudden proposition, as he watched the ripples of water disappear.

"Of course I do," he said, through a heartbeat.

The woman's smile reached a bit more, her face reflecting in the pool and back up at him with softer eyes.

"I thought you might."

Gaston blinked up at her. "How do I-"

But she was gone, and even the memory of her seemed already to be fading from Gaston's mind. It made him question whether he was still dreaming or not again.

He knelt back down to the pool, where small waves of silver were still coiling and curving intricately around his own sceptical reflection, like they might be coaxing him back into it. Strangely though, it seemed to be working.

He reached his tentative hand into the waters, and the silvery lines began to caress and then pull away from his fingers, just as they'd done before.

It was almost like being intoxicated, with the world becoming skewed and tipping off balance before his eyes. His vision blurred for a moment, and then the silver suddenly turned into a vivid memory in his mind.

Walking through a dark cavern, dripping water from jagged rocks, the Beast's pained roar...

The healing waters, of course.

Gaston staggered to his feet, shaking the dizziness away from his vision in some ecstatic realisation.

"Beast!"

He scrambled the rest of the way through the parted trail, finding the Beast as he'd left him. Gaston's heart momentarily skipped at the awful sight of him, until he noticed the way he was still breathing.

"Beast, come on," he didn't waste a moment, his strength replenished by the simple thought that this had to work.

It wasn't very far to the pool, and he half-dragged, half pushed Beast the rest of the way to it, paying no mind to the bloodied ache in his shoulder. He dropped to his knees with an excitement that quickly transcended into nervousness.

Perhaps it wouldn't work after all, and perhaps he really was still dreaming, and he'd wake up soon and the Beast would already be dead.

Gaston looked at Beast. No, that couldn't be. He couldn't believe that.

He wasted no more time, and began scooping handful after handful of water into his hands, and then dropping it onto the Beast's more terrible wounds.

He waited with a lingering breath, knowing what was supposed to happen.

But the water only glistened against Beast's coat, and it was like some cruel joke, with the way Beast's breath seemed only to shallow and worsen.

Gaston blinked between the Beast and the pool, caught up in some panicked confusion for a moment.

He looked angrily at the pool, and began to curse it, before he noticed the silver lines were already starting to disappear from the waters.

Gaston rubbed his eyes with a gradual realisation; it didn't seem like the water would stay 'enchanted' for very long, at least not without some more of his own help.

He hesitated, hovering a hand over the water again, and then glowered at the sky.

"You could have explained things a bit better to me, witch," he muttered, and turned back to face the Beast.

He pressed his hand against Beast's side, mildly comforted by the beat of a heart, and then he swallowed the rest of his nerves.

"I'm not even sure that this is going to work," he took a deep breath, steeling against something he didn't really understand. "But you did tell me I was too reckless, anyway."

Gaston caught his soaked gloves in his teeth, and tugged them off, tossing them aside in one quick motion.

He didn't need to think about it anymore (thinking was dangerous and had only led him into trouble, after all), as he plunged his hands properly into the waters.

His senses dimmed more quickly this time, but it didn't matter; the water was shining again, and beginning to spread properly out, filling the entire pool with a beautiful glow.

Gaston shuddered, but it didn't really feel like any sort of pain. The sensation was numbing, and only made everything seem a bit hazier, like he might actually be in a dream. It helped in some small way, because it let him forget his fear.

He watched, in a detached awe, as the silvery tendrils began rippling against his hands, spreading further out into glittering streaks, and creating small waves. Something gripped at his chest, squeezing it in a way that made him have to concentrate far more on very simple things; like staying upright, or keeping his eyes open, or remembering to breathe...

The dizzying feeling intensified, like a rush of blood shot straight to the head, and he thought he might pass out. His bones were too heavy, and even as he began to understand that his own essence was slipping away from him, it didn't seem too terrible after all.

He glanced to the side, to look at the Beast again.

Through the growing fog of his mind, and amongst scattered, incoherent thoughts, Gaston realised how simple it was.

He had fallen for the Beast, in his own way. He could admit it now, even if it was only to himself.

He laughed, through a breathless feeling.

It didn't seem like he'd get the chance to tell the Beast, anyway.

"I'm...I'm glad I got to know you better too, Beast."

Gaston blinked up at the sky, which was turning a purplish-pink. The stars were all but gone, and everything was becoming a little bit lighter, and even clearer around him, like an epiphany made real by the forest itself. The sun was just barely starting to rise again, with thin rays of light filtering through little gaps in the trees.

They flickered over the pool, making the surface shimmer more than ever, and Gaston caught his own pale and exhausted reflection in it.

"It's just a pity," he realised, through a brittle smile. "I never even got to know your damned name."

He lifted his arms out of the water, combating a disorientating sensation that made his eyes fail him for a few moments. He shook the feeling away, and then, with what was left of his ailing strength, he pushed the Beast the rest of the way into the pool.

Through the splash of shining water, Gaston dropped onto his back and into the grass, his chest rattling severely, in sharp contrast to the serene fuzz that was overtaking his mind.

He kept his eyes on the sky, which seemed to glow with another light that was much more brilliant and blinding than the sun. He wanted to look at it, though it was far too tiring to even think about now.

With his last consciously drawn breath, he heard another voice, and though it didn't sound exactly like the Beast anymore, he knew that it was him.

He couldn't have imagined a more wonderful sound.

88

88

88

It was early morning when it happened.

The sun was spilling through stained glass windows, creating pretty colours against the castle walls and floor, when Belle heard the shriek. It came from a little way down one of the corridors.

She didn't need to investigate too far, before bumping into something, someone, who was blurting out too many excitable words, and then she was being embraced.

It only took her a moment to piece it together for herself, when she looked at the stranger properly.

"...Lumière? Is that you?"

He nodded, face beaming.

"Cogsworth, too! And Mrs. Potts...well, everybody in the castle!" he laughed, and then hugged her again. "You know what this means, young mademoiselle! The spell must have been broken! And-"

"And Beast's still alive," Belle realised.

She walked over to the nearby window.

Peering through the sun-shot glass, her eyes were immediately drawn to the the forest, as they always tended to be in these last few days.

Some nervous but excited anticipation met her, and she smiled with it.

If nothing else, her gut instinct had been right all along.

88

88

Chapter Text

88

88

I had all and then most of you
Some, and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met

88

88

The peaceful tone of the forest did not feel the same as any other morning Beast had opened his eyes within it.

It was lighter somehow, in the same way his bones were; like an ardent and constant weight had been pulled off his shoulders, so that he might be able to breathe properly at last. He'd been invigorated by something he didn't even know that he needed so badly.

He wanted to laugh, completely overwhelmed by the feeling.

Scrunching fingers into soft earth, he saw pink blossoms floating lazily through the air, complimenting the fading yellow and brilliant blue skies of sunrise. There were the vivid hues of greenery, and sunlight dancing against the wet grass, reviving all his senses some more.

Nearby, he could see a little pool of water that almost seemed to sparkle, as inviting as everything else all around him.

He looked down, and found Gaston lying close beside him. His head was tilted away, like he might be asleep.

"Gaston," Beast coughed the word out, and some water pooled from his mouth.

Strange, he couldn't remember being in any water at all.

The last thing he could really remember was Gaston's voice, and then something about names. Gaston had probably been taunting him about the Perceval thing again.

Beast smiled at the thought, and squinted up through the bright tree tops. Just beyond them he could see the marked and very close outline of the castle.

It wasn't very far now. They'd be back home before the sun had gotten very high in the sky.

"Gaston," Beast budged the tiny distance over to the hunter, and hovered a hand over his chest.

He hesitated. Gaston looked so pale and tired, it really was a shame to wake him.

"Hey..."

At the same time he looked properly down at his own hand.

His hand.

Beast stared at it in awe; the light of the morning sun highlighting the glowing skin of his fingers.

It was probably a dream, it must have been that. He was imagining something far too wonderful, and impossible.

Through the disbelief, he crawled shakily to the edge of the little pool of water, to catch his numbed reflection.

It was like looking at a ghost, or else a stranger in his own skin, as ridiculous as it was.

A shiver between joy and shock rocked his body as he traced a hand slowly across his own face, recalling memories that felt so long ago, and yet at the same time they seemed to flood within him as if they'd only been gone for a few meaningless seconds of his life.

"Gaston...I-I'm..."

He scrambled back to the hunter and grabbed his arm, shaking him roughly.

"Gaston! Wake up! Look what happened! It must have...I don't know-"

Caught up in such heady delirium, it took a while to notice Gaston wasn't waking, and then how unusually cold his arm felt in his grip.

There was something wrong.

Beast realised it as he tilted the hunter's head gently to face him. He looked too pale, and his dark hair looked even darker against such pallid skin.

"Hey, come now. Wake up."

Beast pressed his hand into the other's chest, and then something dropped within his own, as his palm spread out onto such a cold stillness that made him feel strange. It was like reaching the top of a staircase; and heart fluttering after taking an extra step that wasn't really there at all.

Beast couldn't get rid of the sensation.

"No..." he gathered the hunter up in shaking arms, curling smooth fingers into more calloused (and familiar) ones, like that might inject some sort of life back into them.

They fitted together so well, and Beast realised, somewhere at the back of his mind, that he'd never held the hunter's hand without it being covered by gloves before.

The absent thought, along with the cold skin against his own, was too much. The brightness of the forest and the twitter of birds had become harsh and unbearable, as if it all might be taunting him.

Gaston wasn't supposed to be dead.

The hunter was too strong and far too stubborn for that, and Beast wouldn't believe it.

He bowed his head as hot wetness burst down his cheeks. It was strange to feel tears on his own skin again.

"Please..."

Wiping his eyes on a tattered sleeve, he swallowed the heat in his throat and looked at Gaston's face. There he noticed the fractionally parted shape of his lips.

Beast knew that there wouldn't be another time, or even another chance. And in a way, it was some clichéd wishful thinking that made him do it.

More than that though, more than anything at all, he just wanted to do it.

"I'd rather stay a beast forever," he realised, "than have you die on me."

He bent the rest of the way down, cupping the hunter's face delicately in his hands, and closed the tiny gap between them.

Gaston's mouth was soft but cool, and Beast closed his eyes, chest aching as he imagined the way the hunter might have kissed him back.

Then, as the thought ravaged his heart, something else covered his vision; a brutal rush of memories assaulting him all at once.

Between wolves, bears and harpies, hills and valleys, lush streams, rivers, and beautiful lakes; there was the hunter, so vivid and alive within his mind again.

A deft and strident walk between them, cold snarls and reluctant glances, uncertain smiles and accidental laughter. A meaningless head tilt that actually meant far more than that, and then the warmth of flesh and heat that became as close as tiny flecks within blue eyes...

It was like being forced through a rapid replay of every dizzying and oddly intimate moment he'd ever shared with the hunter in those last few days, and it was far too devastating.

Beast thought, through the intense haze, that he might be blacking out and falling into something else.

8

8

He opened his eyes and was standing up again, surrounded by a forest that he didn't recognise at all.

The trees were skeletal with dark and spindly branches, bending easily in a bitter cold wind, where the edges of grey clouds made the sky look cracked. Beast shivered and shielded his eyes against the snow that swept past his gaze.

He didn't question any of it for more than second. His breath caught, when he saw the figure standing a little way away from him.

The hunter's back was turned, and he stood so still that he could have been a statue.

Beast's heart surged, as he ran to him.

"Gaston."

Gaston turned round in some alarm, and he pushed Beast back, before staggering away. He looked white, but not in the same terrible way he'd looked when Beast had thought (or known) that he was dead.

"...Beast? What're you still doing here?"

"What do you mean?" Beast reached out again, but the hunter flinched back.

He looked past Beast distractedly, as if he expected something else to appear before them at any moment. He shook his head.

"...you...you shouldn't be here anymore."

Beast scoffed. "What are you talking about? Where else would I be?"

"Not here," Gaston's eyes widened, and then he looked at Beast more angrily. "She told me..." he turned away with a growl. "Never mind. I must still be dreaming."

"Dreaming? Gaston, you're not-"

"I am," Gaston snapped. "... and I'm so sick of these dreams."

The cold wind seemed to intensify all around them, and it was as if it might be in tune with the hunter's emotions.

Beast shaded a paw against it all, and followed him further into the forest, ignoring how the wind got colder and fiercer.

"You're not dreaming, Gaston. I'm- I mean...I think this is real."

Gaston sneered at him; "I fell for that before, but I know my own mind better now, Beast. Don't waste your breath."

"But-"

"Leave me alone."

A roaring wind gushed through dead leaves, and then coiled around and obscured the hunter's face. He became a blurred shape through a muddled storm for a little while as he began to walk away. A dreaded feeling reached Beast's stomach, and he ran after him.

"Hey! I won't leave you here. Whether it's a dream or not."

Gaston looked at him with scornful amusement. "What will you do, then? Follow me like some lost puppy forever?"

"Yes."

Gaston stopped in his adamant march. As he turned properly back round, the wind seemed to ebb a little, and the snow became lighter, turning into pattering rain.

The hunter's face dropped into something like reluctant resignation, and he massaged his temples with a weary sigh.

"Why bother, Beast? Why would you come back here at all?"

Beast snorted. He didn't need to think about that. "Why would you ask me such a stupid question?"

Around them, the rain stopped, and the ghosts of grey cloud were beginning to dissolve from the sky, into something warmer.

"I was trying to help you, Beast," Gaston explained, and he sounded hoarse. "But I don't think I did it right," he looked at the ground, as if it had disappointed him.

"What?" Beast said softly. "what do you mean?"

"You're still...I mean, you're still a Beast."

Beast hadn't even thought about that, never mind noticed it.

He glanced down at his own huge paws and fur-ridden body, and it didn't seem to matter anymore. Not compared to everything else.

"Gaston-"

"I thought I could do something about it," Gaston said quickly. "I'm so good at everything else, aren't I? Or that's what I'm told," he trailed off, and glared down at his own bare hands. "But...apparently I can't do everything, Beast. Can...can you believe that?"

Beast smiled, his chest hurting. "No, I honestly can't."

The hunter laughed, but it sounded bitter.

"I...I dreamt once that I woke up and none of this had happened," he said. "And for a second I forgot all about you. But...I don't think I can imagine not knowing you anymore, Beast. Even in stupid dreams. It's very...annoying."

"I can imagine it must be."

Beast's breath caught in his mouth as he took the last step, bridging the short distance between them. He could see the vivid way the hunter's eyes flashed, and the tiny lines of his lips, as they curled into something more like a weary smile.

"But I was so sure I could help you, Beast."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does...isn't that what you wanted?"

Beast shrugged.

"Why would I care about that, if I can't see you again?"

Gaston stared at him, and he didn't move, even as Beast took his hand in his own.

The grey edges of cloud in the sky were dissipating, and Beast felt rather than saw the forest come back to life all around them; the warm colourful shades of flowers and then yellow light pushing through green, creating a single moment that Beast could have stayed within for the rest of his life.

As the hunter's heat got warmer, and breath became heavy with a tangible heartbeat, Beast closed his eyes.

And then the moment was gone.

8

There was a gasping sound, like someone emerging from water, and then a string of shuddered coughs followed it.

Beast took a breath that felt like it'd been frozen in his lungs forever, and then opened his eyes.

Gaston was still coughing, and Beast pulled him quickly upright, and into a tight embrace; afraid that none of it was real, and more afraid to let the hunter go again, for fear he might still be a dream. If that was what it had been.

Gaston sighed and bowed his head heavily on his shoulder, and Beast felt the warm quiver of his body and the pulsing and uneven swallow of his throat, against his own skin.

But he was alive.

Beast tipped his head into the hunter's familiar scent, and wondered how he would ever be able to do without it again.

"Are-are you alright?" he asked, mouth catching against tangled thick strands of hair.

"...perfect," Gaston said, like he might be smiling. "But...I feel like I died or something, Beast..."

Beast laughed, and then tipped his head, so that their foreheads bumped together.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment he forgot awkward proximity or the consequences of anything like that.

"It's Adam, by the way."

"...huh?"

"My name. It's Adam."

"..what?" the hunter's voice faded, and then Beast felt a hand pushing him back, just a bit, before Gaston looked properly at him for the first time.

"...Adam?"

The hunter blinked, his eyes widening into some stunned wariness, as if he didn't really trust what he was looking at.

"I...yes, it's me," Beast suddenly felt full of nerves.

In some way, as ridiculous as it was, he felt far more self conscious under the scrutiny of the hunter as an actual human, than he ever had as a Beast. Especially with the way Gaston was staring at him now.

"...I mean, it's still me. I'm just...I'm just human now."

"I..."

Gaston's stare moved into a vague frown.

"I can see that," he said eventually.

He sat up some more, rubbing his head and briefly shutting his eyes again.

"What...what happened?"

Beast blinked at him.

"...don't you remember any of it?"

"I think, well...nothing important, obviously."

Beast brushed a hand gently across his shoulder. "Seems like you're looking a lot better, though."

"I always look better."

Beast failed to hide his smile. "True. But you're still bleeding a bit."

Gaston followed his gaze carelessly down to his shoulder, and shrugged.

"...it's just a scratch."

Beast laughed, and wanted to do so much more.

But he realised, just watching Gaston complain and teeter as he started to stand up, that he couldn't do anything like that now, and perhaps Gaston really couldn't remember anything important after all.

Beast touched his own lips, with the phantom memory of a sensation that had probably not even happened.

Maybe Gaston was right; and maybe it had all been a strange dream between them.

"Easy," he caught the hunter's arm as he stumbled again, and helped keep him upright.

"I'm okay," Gaston said, in some irritation, but leaned against Beast anyway.

"I know."

The hunter's weight was heavier now, since Beast didn't have the strength of anything but a single human anymore, but it was no trouble. He thought he could carry him until the end of time if he had to.

He looked up, where the sun was streaming through a gap between the trees, and the castle looked so close that he could see the faces of the cherubic statues that decorated it.

Out the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something move between trees. He turned his head, trying to make it out through the mossy green that lead into darkness behind them.

"What is it?" Gaston asked.

"Nothing," Beast turned quickly back to the hunter. "Just thought...nothing. I was imagining things."

"Oh."

Neither of them said another word about it, but Beast felt the hunter's gaze linger on him longer than it needed to.

"What's wrong?"

Gaston shook his head quickly. "You never told me."

"...told you what?"

"How good looking you were."

Beast blinked, stuck between embarrassment and confusion.

"I..."

"You're welcome," Gaston grinned faintly. "...Prince Adam."

Beast returned it, and somehow, with the way the hunter said his name, his actual name, it made it all feel very real for the first time.

And he really was a prince again.

He gripped Gaston a bit closer, and as the grassy trail through the forest swayed, creating a pathway just for them, the heat of the hunter was warmer and more intimate than it'd ever felt before. With it, Beast... Adam, remembered what it really was to be human again.

88

88

88

Adam was greeted just outside the castle in a garden full of rose bushes, with pouring words of disbelief, and tight, almost painful hugs.

There were faces and voices he'd thought he'd never know again, and for some chaotic minutes everything was like whiplash; as if he'd been pushed back into an old world he wasn't braced for.

Through the jumble of emotion, he was only very aware of two things.

The first was that Gaston had taken some steps back, and he didn't say a word, or indicate that he might have been a part of the moment at all. He just stood there, watching the happy reunion with an awkward and detached expression. He did not suit a wallflower very well.

Adam gently pulled away from Mrs Potts' embrace, and then remembered the second thing.

"Where is Belle?"

Mrs Potts, Lumière and Cogsworth exchanged worried looks.

"She went looking for you, master," said Mrs Potts regretfully.

"And we all tried to stop her," Cogsworth quickly added. "but, ah, as soon as she realised you were still alive...well, you know she's a spirited young lady, master..."

"Where did she go?"

"Into the forest," said Lumière.

"The forest?" Adam turned instinctively back round to Gaston.

The hunter rolled his eyes and glanced away.

"It doesn't surprise me," he said unsympathetically, and folded his arms. "She's always been one to take things into her own irresponsible hands."

Cogsworth looked at him with a derisive snort, as if he'd only just noticed the hunter standing there. "And you're very well acquainted with the young lady, are you?"

"Not especially," Gaston sneered at him. "But I do know she's foolish enough to do something like that."

"Gaston-" Adam moved a warning hand to his arm, but Gaston shrugged it off.

"Now just a minute," Cogsworth snapped. "Don't speak about Belle like that, you...you uncouth scoundrel."

"Cogsworth!" Adam said.

"And who are you to speak so unkindly of her, anyway?" Cogsworth ignored him. "Having almost killed our master, an explanation as to why you're here at all would be nice, if you even have the capability of that-"

"You-" Gaston took a step toward him, his hands tightening into sharp fists.

"Stop it," Adam yelled, and everyone looked at him with surprised faces. "Both of you!"

Adam took a breath, trying to find level in his voice, because nerves had reached him.

He blinked round at all of his subjects, rather unconsciously putting himself between them and Gaston. He couldn't help it; the thought of keeping the hunter protected had become more than second nature, it was just what he had to do now.

He pressed a hand firmly to Gaston's chest, and let the words tumble from his mouth;

"He broke the spell," his voice shook through the words.

The small group seemed to pale in front of him, and there were murmured words which mingled together like a ripple of surprise. There was a heavy quiet, in which the truth of it seemed to hit Adam too, flipping and twisting inside of his stomach.

His hand relaxed a bit on Gaston's chest; though he could still feel the thrum of the hunter's heart, and it was like a comforting and reliable melody, amidst all the chaos in his mind.

"He...he broke the spell?" Cogsworth said, in an incredulous voice. "I don't believe-"

Lumière nudged him sharply in the side.

"Well, this is wonderful news, master. Isn't it, my friends?"

Everyone nodded slowly, but the atmosphere had become uncomfortable, and Adam noticed Gaston had turned away from them all.

Mrs Potts took a careful step forward, her smile small and warm.

"It's true?" her eyes stayed on Gaston. "The hunter, he broke the spell? He truly lo-"

"Yes," Adam swallowed. "He broke the spell."

He smiled weakly and then turned around, where Gaston was watching him with a raised eyebrow, like he didn't really understand.

Of course he wouldn't, Adam hadn't told him.

"Well then," Mrs. Potts laughed lightly, punctuating a strange silence. "It takes all sorts, doesn't it?" she reached out a hand, and then gathered Gaston's. "Thank you, my dear. We're all very grateful to you."

Gaston stared at her in some surprise, and then blinked back at Adam.

"Beast...I mean...Adam...what is-"

"Don't worry," Adam told him hurriedly. "It's not important."

Of course it was, and he noticed the way Gaston stared at him, but Adam couldn't think about that right now.

"I-I need a horse. I need to find Belle."

"There's some ready in the stables, master," Lumière said. "If you go now, I'm sure you'll catch up to her quickly."

"Good," Adam started off, but felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

"I'll go with you," Gaston said.

Adam looked the hunter up and down, trying to keep emotion in check.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're in no condition for that," he turned back round to his subjects. "Please, look after my friend whilst I'm gone. His injuries need tending to."

Gaston grabbed him again. "I'm not staying here, prince."

He looked irritated and confused, and in that moment Adam wanted to do nothing but wipe the scowl off his mouth, in an extremely unsubtle way.

"It's Adam," he said instead. "I won't be very long, I promise."

"You don't know that," Gaston glared at him.

They stood, in a tense and odd sort of stand-off for a few seconds, neither of them losing the other's gaze, or else too stubborn to break it.

"Now, dear. Let me see to this shoulder," Mrs Potts said, weaving between them and shattering the silence."Looks quite nasty, doesn't it?"

Gaston barely reacted to her words, eyes never leaving Adam's.

"Good luck. With Belle, I mean," he said coldly.

Adam's heart tightened with the words, but all he could do was watch the hunter stalk away. Mrs Potts ran after him, waving her arms and muttering something about 'reckless young men'.

"Good luck," Adam muttered to himself. "I think I'll need it more than you think, hunter."

88

Returning to the forest on horseback was different. Everything felt easier and smaller, less significant, and not just for the obvious reasons.

He could move far more quickly of course, but with it he missed the tiny and fragile wild flowers that crumpled under his feet, or the intricate detail of a tree trunk, and even the soft rustle of wind through leaves, accompanying Gaston and his ridiculous hunting stories...

The forest couldn't absorb him with it's simple beauty anymore. In way, it was like he wasn't even in the same forest anymore.

He didn't have to go too far into it before he found Belle.

She was on her own horse, wearing a hooded cloak up over head. When she turned round her face was as beautiful as he remembered it, and a sadness reached his heart.

"Belle."

She backed up, startled by his strange voice, and then entirely confused.

"...who are you?"

"It's me. I'm...it's me," there was nothing else to say. He could tell she'd already figured it out.

Between the occasional snort of both their horses, there hung silence, as though a shock wave had pummelled the atmosphere, and all that was left was a strange aftermath and a chance to pick up the pieces and try to make sense of them all.

"Beast?" Belle said.

She slid off her horse and then walked slowly toward him, her expression mixed between intrigue and fear.

Adam got off his own horse, offering her a weak smile, as the gap got smaller between then.

So now they were supposed to embrace and kiss.

But there was none of that; only her uncertain expression, and the way she turned her head away from him to look at something else, as if it were far more interesting.

"So you are a prince," she said at last. "I was beginning to have my doubts, after all the stories they told me."

"Stories?" Adam could feel himself colouring up.

"You were a bit of a brat, weren't you?" Belle said, but she was smiling. She reached out, to flick a strand of hair out of his eyes. "I can imagine that."

Adam cleared his throat. "I was...yes, I was a brat, to put it lightly," he laughed, at a loss of what else to do or say. He'd long since given up trying to defend his own behaviour.

"Still, it does seem like a harsh punishment."

Adam laughed. "Gaston thought the same," he said, not thinking about it.

Belle's eyes widened. "Gaston?"

"Oh..." Adam looked to the side.

Suddenly the hidden depths of the forest felt more tempting than the reality he'd found himself in. Running from bears and harpies and wolves was nothing at all, compared to trying to find words in that moment.

"It was...the hunter. He helped me," he said at last.

Belle raised an eyebrow. "Gaston?"

Adam nodded. "Yes."

Belle's breath hitched as her laughter died away, and she stared at him, her face flickering in disbelief when she seemed to realise what he was telling her. And then that he was serious.

"He broke the spell?" her voice became quieter.

"It's hard to believe it, I'm sure-"

"I knew that someone must have broken it," Belle interrupted, and shook her head, more to herself. "I-I spent some time wondering who. I just...how did he...?"

Adam kept his eyes focused ahead, but with some difficulty, because even as he tried to recall a sensible answer, all he could really remember was prickling wet skin, and then cool flesh and confused dreams. A soft mouth...

Adam smiled faintly at Belle.

"It's just a spell."

He touched her hand, and her fingers twitched delicately in his for just a second, before she retracted them.

"How much I'd like to believe that," she said, and laughed shortly.

"I-we can...we can talk about this all together. It-it's quite a story, actually."

"Talk 'all together'? You mean with Gaston?" Belle looked both amused and sceptical. "you're sure about that?"

"Yes. Things have...I think he'd want to talk."

Belle studied him as if he were a detailed puzzle, and she was trying to spot the missing ingredient, that might make it all add up, or make some sense.

Adam took a step back, finding it easier to keep his eyes on the waving trees.

"I know that you and Gaston left things on bad terms. But-"

Belle took his hand. "Please, let's just go back to the castle first. Then we can talk."

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but words were clogged within his throat. He couldn't explain all of it to her right now, but he had a feeling that she knew better than himself anyway, if that were even possible.

It was in every gesture between them; the stilted way they brushed hands, and then the easy way she rejected his help back onto her horse, as if she'd never needed it in the first place. He felt like he'd been rejected, and he also found he didn't want to fight it.

Instead his thoughts wandered with the soft trail of the forest, and so easily, back to Gaston.

It was like a default in his mind, some subconscious setting that he couldn't rid himself of, even when Belle looked over her shoulder at him, and he explained to her the small details of his name, the curse, the habits he'd gotten into, and how exhausted he felt. Things that should have been huge revelations, they all felt empty pouring from his mouth, because he knew what was missing.

"Are you alright?" Belle asked, after a while. She looked genuinely concerned.

He only felt worse for it.

"Not really," he admitted.

Belle halted her horse suddenly, and looked at him with a frown that soon softened.

"...Adam," she said his name carefully, as though she was unsure if it was correct. "I don't know what happened between you and Gaston over these past few days...and I can't pretend to understand, either-"

"Belle, I don't expect you to-"

"But I'm happy you're safe," Belle carried on, as if he hadn't said a word."and that you didn't resort to killing each other, at least. I can imagine it would have been tempting, a few times."

Adam returned her wry smile.

"You'd be surprised how close it came to that."

"I don't think I'd be very surprised at all."

They travelled the rest of the way back to the castle in silence, and the calm hum of the forest accompanied them, only reminding Adam of everything he'd left behind him.

8

Mrs Potts was standing at the open gates, ready to greet them both.

Adam looked past her, eyes narrowing around the bright courtyard, until he noticed the bow lying abandoned in the grass.

He bent and picked it up, stroking the smooth edges of it through a blur of emotion.

"Is Gaston inside the castle?"

Mrs. Potts face fell.

"Master, I'm afraid he already left."

"What?"

Adam could barely believe it. Gaston had left, just like that? And without even a proper goodbye.

"Seems all your guests have a habit of not listening very well to your staff," Cogsworth commented, but he did look apologetic. "We did try our best to make him stay, though."

"Even offered him a few cups of tea, as it happens," Mrs Potts tutted. "Wouldn't even take a sip!"

"He was very...determined, master," Lumière said.

Adam rubbed a hand over his temples and rolled his eyes.

"Determined. Yes, that sounds about right."

He shouldn't have been so surprised, anymore. The hunter wouldn't listen to anyone, of course he wouldn't. It was some sort of miracle if he ever listened to Adam himself.

"If it's any consolation, he stayed until he saw you both coming out of the forest," Mrs. Potts said. "And he's only travelling on foot. I'm sure he hasn't gotten very far."

It wasn't much consolation at all, and Adam sighed, stuck in a conflict he'd been trying to avoid and escape ever since he'd first returned to the castle.

He felt Belle's hand, soft on his arm, and it only cemented the feeling.

"This is...I'm sorry about all of this," he looked between them all. "But I need to..."

"Go after him," Belle said.

"...what?"

"You heard me. I'm worried that he's lost his mind," she smiled a bit. "I don't think he's the Gaston I remember, somehow."

"Do you...you don't mind?"

Belle laughed thinly.

"Of course I mind. And I also have a good mind to chuck you both back into the forest together. Although I'm beginning to think you might enjoy that," she hesitated, and her smile wavered. "...you would, wouldn't you?"

Adam couldn't say anything to that.

He was only reminded of her own brilliant perception, and then the realisation that she knew far more about the curse than he'd ever cared to tell her.

There was only one other person left to tell, now.

"Please forgive me," he said.

Belle squeezed his shoulder.

"Well. Good luck."

88

Adam pushed through the trees with a twisting nausea that wouldn't leave him until he'd finally caught sight of the hunter. It was as it had been when they'd been travelling through the forest these past few days; he couldn't relax anymore unless he knew where Gaston was, and that he might be safe. It was almost a curse in itself.

Mrs Potts was right though, he hadn't gotten very far.

The hunter was leaning a hand against a tree and scowling at his injured shoulder. Adam thought about what an idiot he could be, but far more about how much he just wanted to make sure he was okay. How much he needed to see him.

"Thought you would have had enough of this sort of scenery by now, hunter."

"Huh?" Gaston turned round slowly. "Oh. Hello."

"Is that all you've got?" Adam walked the rest of the way through bramble, and into the little clearing. "You forgot this."

He took a moment to catch his breath, and then pressed the bow into Gaston's hands.

"What is a foolish hunter without his trusty and arrow-less bow, anyway?"

Gaston smiled weakly. "thanks," then he shaded his eyes and tilted his head up, at the tree tops.

Adam followed his gaze, and they stood and watched the filter of sunlight through the trees, casting a glow that was so warm and familiar.

Every turn of a leaf or sway of a branch reminded Adam of something stark and vivid that had happened to them within the forest. He was certain that Gaston felt it too.

He knew it, because of the sad way the hunter watched the pinkish sky.

"It's funny," he said after a moment. "I thought I'd be glad to see the back of damn forests for a while, but I kind of miss it already. I must be crazy."

Adam nodded. "You are crazy. But I know what you mean. I miss it too."

Gaston turned and looked at Adam properly, smiling a bit.

"But it'll make a nice change, going to sleep at night without fearing for our lives, won't it?"

"Heh, yes. Definitely a plus, hunter. No more near-death experiences."

"I won't miss that," Gaston was still watching him, more carefully than he ever had.

"What's wrong?" Adam asked.

Gaston shrugged. "Nothing. Still trying to get used to your face," he hesitated, then reached out a hand, briefly touching his hair. "I don't know. I sort of expected you'd have a beard too."

"Are you disappointed?"

"No. You'll never be as handsome as me, anyway."

Adam snorted. "I guess that's true."

They stood smiling between each other for a long moment, then Gaston looked reluctantly at the walkers trail that widened out into the road ahead, back toward the town.

Adam already knew what he was going to say, so he had to speak first.

"Stay for a while. I'd...we'd be happy to have you stay."

Gaston shook his head at the ground.

"Thanks for the offer, but I should probably get this thing seen to," he rolled his shoulder in indication. "And I've got some hero's welcome to be getting back to, remember? Also, Lefou will be lost and probably dying without me."

"Ah, I do remember," Adam smiled a bit. "Will you be telling them all about how you so bravely killed the Beast?"

"Heh. Something like that."

"Well then, suppose I'll have to come by the village and set them straight about how it really happened."

"Come by whenever you like, prince."

"It's Adam," Adam caught his shoulder. "Just call me Adam, Gaston."

"Fine," Gaston said, then turned away.

"...good," Adam cast around, searching desperately for something else to say, his fingers tightening on warm flesh. It was all so much easier in his head; what he wanted to say, what he wanted to do. "Anyway, I have to see you again. I still owe you for those hunting lessons."

"That doesn't matter. You paid me back with that silly dance, remember."

"That wasn't a payment, I wanted to do that. And it wasn't silly."

Gaston looked at him for some long seconds, mouth moving an undecided line.

"...I have to go."

"But I don't want you to."

"Well, you can't always get what you want, can you?" Gaston said, resentfully.

Adam's heart reached into his mouth with the words.

"So what do you want?"

He'd never been more terrified of an answer.

Gaston blinked at him, and his smile was tired.

"You always have to make things more complicated, don't you?"

Adam shrugged and shook his head. "It seems simple to me."

"Hah. It would be for you. You're a prince again, and Belle-"

"You broke the spell," Adam told him, biting back his nerves.

Gaston's face flickered some vague surprise, before sparing him an irritated look. "That doesn't mean anything, prince."

"It means everything. It could only be broken by-"

"You can keep this," Gaston said, in soft interruption. "If you want."

The hunter gestured down at his bow. He seemed to debate it for a few seconds, before pushing it back into Adam's hands.

"Something to remember me by," then he laughed, and it sounded difficult. "Like you'd ever forget me."

Adam stared at the bow, and it was like the silent answer he didn't want to hear. He didn't want to have to remember him, because it only meant he might have to forget him, and he couldn't do that. Not after all of this.

He knew very well what Gaston had done for him; the proof was in himself, and it couldn't be denied any longer.

But when he looked back up Gaston was already walking away from him, as if it were nothing at all.

"Wait-" he grabbed the hunter's wrist, keeping him in place for a precious moment. "If you must go, let me give you something too."

"I don't-" Gaston turned his head just a fraction, and that was close enough.

Adam pulled him in; catching his mouth with his own.

It was a painfully wanted and urgent kiss, everything it had not been the first time Adam had tried to kiss him, and he realised he needed all of it now, if only to make up for that.

"Mmf-"

A startled sound quickly dissolved into something else, and Adam felt hands move surprisingly tentatively around his back, and then a soft hum of pleasure, an easy and compliant surrender against his mouth.

For a few heady moments his body became electric; mouth moving desperately down a vulnerable neckline, teeth scraping and marking heated skin.

A hand rested against his chest, pushing him back just a bit.

"Hey..."

And then they broke apart, and Gaston was smirking at him, his face flushed and surprised through panting breath.

"Heh...I'm beginning to think you're not just a Beast in name, prince..."

Adam covered his embarrassment with a grin.

"Shut up."

"I mean..I know I'm irresistible, but still..."

Adam laughed. "Stop that, I mean it," but he didn't, and as he curved a hand around the hunter's face, he thought he might be able to listen to him boast and brag forever.

The pause between them was slight, and Adam felt heat permeating against skin; an almost tangible desire that reached into the hunter's eyes, and only made Adam want him even more.

"...it wasn't a dream, was it?" Gaston said, his voice quiet.

Adam shook his head.

"Do you remember?"

"I think so. Well, I hope so. These past few days haven't been...usual for me, you know."

"Me neither," and Adam tilted his head, trying to kiss him again.

Gaston tipped his head away though.

"You can't have your cake and eat it too, prince. Doesn't matter how 'royal' you are."

"I think Belle's figured it out, Gaston."

"What?" the hunter looked vaguely mortified, then grumbled to himself. "Trust Belle to know. With all that...thinking."

"Way too smart for either of us."

A pang of guilt hit Adam then, entirely supported by Gaston's uncertain expression.

"I'm a terrible person," he realised.

"You are," Gaston nodded tactlessly. "But if it makes you feel any better, she probably still hates me a thousand times more than she'll ever hate you."

"Honestly, that just makes me feel worse."

Gaston looked sorry. "Well. Who am I to say how a woman's mind words? Those things are a mystery to me," he blinked, with a reluctant concordance. "Anyway, you're the one who said she's very forgiving."

"I suppose you're right about that."

"Hah. I told you, I'm always right," the hunter sounded far more reassuring than cocky, and he even took a second to pat Adam's shoulder. Adam noticed the nervous way he swallowed, and then how unusually coy his smile was.

He was trying his best, and it was endearing and reminded Adam of every reason why he'd come shambling out into the forest after him.

Adam smiled back at him. "I'll escort you back to the town. It's not very far, is it?"

"Are you going to hold my hand, too?"

"I just might."

"I'm honoured. Your highness."

"It's Adam," Adam nudged him in the side.

He watched as the hunter's step become a gait that reminded him of days in the forest that felt far shorter, and he suddenly wished had been so much longer, despite every ordeal that they'd been through together.

"Adam," Gaston repeated the name, in a moment of indignation. "Why didn't I guess that before? It's so obvious."

"You may have already said it, and I just forgot. Or I just didn't want to tell you."

Gaston pushed him lightly. "I hate you."

"Heh, well do you have any other preferences?"

"Hm. what about 'Pain in my a-"

"Something else, Gaston."

"Alright," Gaston picked up the bow, that had been forgotten and dropped a few minutes earlier. "You want this or not, Perceval?" he flashed an easy grin that made Adam's heart leap and beat a bit faster.

He caught the hunter's wrist, and then his hand, properly in his own. He didn't think he'd be able to let it go.

"No, please not Perceval."

Gaston laughed. "You're not giving me many options here. And is that a yes or no?"

"You keep it. Like you said, I'm not going to forget you."

"That's true," Gaston smiled a bit more. "Maybe I'll just keep calling you Beast then, for old times sake."

"I don't mind that," Adam admitted.

As he started to step forward, something stopped him at the last second, glinting out the corner of his eye.

It moved glittering and silvery between the trees in front of them, and he was sure that he'd seen it before, or else it had appeared in between his dreams.

"Can you see it too?" Gaston said.

Adam turned his head; the hunter's profile had resolved into something like a wary fascination on the forest.

"It's been following us for a while now."

"How do you know?"

Gaston smirked. "Oh you know. Enchanted forests, that sort of thing."

"Hah. That's rich, coming from you."

"You must've made me crazy."

They watched the trees move with the gentle breeze, and they both tried to spot the silver form through it all for a short while. The sky was turning a radiant orange with the early edges of sunset, and everything felt much warmer. It was as if the forest was properly alive all around them, and then Adam realised what it was.

It was the heat of fingers curling some more between his own, and a short but easy laugh that echoed through the forest and made his own heart seemed to move in time with it.

He watched, as the sudden shape of a deer rushed between the trees, and then gleamed and disappeared back into the dark of the forest, just as quickly as it had appeared.

Adam gripped Gaston's hand tighter, and the sounds of the forest became like song, when Gaston smiled back at him.

"So come on, Beast. Are you going to tell me the rest of what happened with Artemis, now?"

Adam grinned, and looped an arm the rest of the way around Gaston's shoulder, drawing him much closer.

"Very happily, hunter."

88

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~the end (?)

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a/n: So that's a wrap!

Thank you so much to everyone for sticking with it, I know it was a bit of a shambling mess/trek, especially toward the end (I am so bad at wrapping things up, it never feels very natural). I worried about bringing Belle back at the last minute (especially because I didn't give her much character at all...felt like cheating), and I don't think it's going to be a simple/easy reconciliation between all of them for a long while. But then this wasn't supposed to be like a perfectly happily ever after, though I think it got close enough.

I have absolutely loved reading the feedback of everyone's varying opinions, good or bad, and I hope that in the end it was worth at least a little of your time and satisfied in even the smallest way. In any case, I had some fun writing it :D

Special thanks to 小ノ木Get, who drew so much beautiful surprise artwork post-writing this fic. I just had to add it to the story. I'm sure you can agree, it makes it a million times better!

Lyric credits: The Night We Met by Lord Huron