Chapter 1: Playful, Flirty Banter

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the Prince was spoiled, selfish and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle, and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the Prince sneered at the gift, and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he had dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away, to reveal a beautiful Enchantress. The Prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she could see there was no love in his heart, so as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous Beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The Rose she had offered was truly an enchanted Rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken! If not, he would be doomed to remain a Beast for all time.

As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a Beast? ….


Belle de Villeneuve blinked upon spinning around, lifting her head out of the book that had been holding her attention. The bookseller had actually given it to her at the bookshop free of charge, after she tried to borrow it again for the umpteenth time. "It's my favorite!" she'd explained. "Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a Prince in disguise!"

"If you like it all that much, it's yours!" the bookseller had insisted.

The story never failed to grab and hold Belle's attention – so much so, that she didn't pay attention to much around her, reading as she walked.

Now, Belle wished she had been paying better attention, for she had the strangest suspicion that may of the townsfolk had been staring at her again, even whispering. She never clearly heard what the whispers were about, though context was enough to hazard a guess. She figured what they thought of her, that she was odd for being a woman and liking to read. And being the eccentric inventor's pretty young daughter, what else could be expected of her, aside from wondering why she had yet to marry and bear children?

Turning away, Belle was just about to duck her head back into the pages of her book when the sound of boots hit the cobblestone. "Hello, Belle."

The voice of Monsieur Gaston did strange things to Belle's body. Meeting his warm, swaggering gaze, she tried in vain to hide the pink blush staining her cheeks. At least she was dignified enough not to giggle – a bevy of beautiful young maidens, specifically a gaggle of blonde triplets always were reduced to schoolgirlish peals whenever Gaston so much as strutted down the street. Claudette, Laurette and Paulette, they were called, though most everyone in Villeaneuve referred to them collectively as the Bimbettes when well out of earshot.

Belle would never debase herself so for some man, though all the same it was hard to deny – Monsieur Gaston was handsome. A hunter by trade, he was a retired veteran hero home from the wars. The Golden Boy made good, a man about town – and the most eligible bachelor in all of Villeneuve.

"Bonjour, Gaston," Belle smiled at him, trying not to show her blush. Her eyes didn't even have time to refocus back on the words on the page before the text was being lifted out of her hands.

The sound Belle made was less of a scoff than a laugh, and an amused one at that. "Gaston!" she half-squealed, trying to grapple for her favorite storybook. "May I have my book, please?"

"How can you read this? There's so pictures!" Gaston made a show of thumbing through the pages, and Belle couldn't help but chuckle, settling her hands on her hips, amusedly.

"Well, some people use their imagination," she retorted. She had always admired Gaston for being a worldly man – even if he wasn't particularly well read. He had been to so many of the far-off places she had read about in her books, and was always eager to regale her with a story from the campaigns, if she asked him. Sure, the story mostly revolved around himself, but it was his experiences, so wasn't that the point?

Casting a glance at her over his shoulder, Gaston smirked. "Belle, it's about time you got your head out of these books and paid attention to more important things!" He tossed the tome over his shoulder, and Belle caught it before it landed in a mud puddle. She quirked a bemused eyebrow, smirking right back challengingly.

"Such as?"

Gaston didn't answer, but the smoldering look in his eyes seemed to expect her to know. Belle just smiled and shook her head. She couldn't pretend that she didn't enjoy her and Gaston's banter. He teased her about her love of reading, sure, but at least he was man enough to do it to her face, unlike the rest of Villeneuve.

"The whole town's talking about it… it's not right for a woman to read! Soon, she starts getting ideas and thinking…"

Belle lifted another eyebrow, her lips fighting to upturn into another smirk. Internally, she winced at the comment dancing right on the line of misogyny, but with Gaston, she had always gotten the impression that it was a bit of an affect. He could put his foot in his mouth, but then again, most men did, especially in this poor, provincial town. "That's what they say, do they? Because otherwise, I would say that you, Gaston, are positively primeval!"

"Why, thank you, Belle!" Gaston slung a friendly arm around her. "Hey, what do you say we go on to the Tavern and take a look at my trophies?"

Belle suppressed a sigh, keeping a smile on her face. "Sure. Why not?"


It was a test of endurance to take a tour with Gaston through the Tavern – empty during daylight hours, except for Lefou, the man's trusty sidekick. Then Gaston gallantly insisted on taking Belle on a tour of the countryside on horseback. Lifting her gentlemanly onto his steed and letting her ride side-saddle, the handsome hunter swung up in front of the beautiful maiden and clicked the reins. Belle could not help but throw her arms about his waist as the stallion reared and thundered out of Villeneuve to the grassy hills beyond.

Gaston eased his ride into a halt just beyond the treeline of the forest, dismounting expertly and gingerly lifting Belle down. His hands remained at her waist a moment longer than was necessary, and the pair just stood there, staring at one another. Belle was finally the first to move away, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Once again, she tried and failed to hide a blush.

Gaston procured his rifle from a saddlebag, then lifted a finger to his lips, motioning for Belle to be quiet. Keeping their bodies concealed behind his horse, Gaston and Belle peered around the stallion's fore hooves to behold a majestic stag lazily grazing.

"There we are! A beauty and a prize!" Gaston's eyes gleamed, lifting the barrel of his rifle.

Belle clutched at Gaston's arm, stricken. "Oh, Gaston, no! Please!" she begged.

He smiled at her sadly. "A man has to eat, Belle, especially to feed his family." She wasn't sure whom he was referring to when he said 'family,' and Belle almost wondered if it might be her. Her heart constricted oddly to think of it.

Lining up his shot, Gaston took a deep breath. "Hero time," he mumbled – at least that was what Belle thought he said – before a sudden BANG! echoed through the fields. She jumped, nearly bumping Gaston over, but not enough to throw off his aim, and besides, the shot was made. The stag had no time to even lift its head, much less bound away, before it had keeled over, dead.

Gaston didn't move to retrieve his kill right away, instead handing the rifle to Belle. "Now you try," he urged, genuinely encouraging.

Belle politely tried to hide how repulsed she was by the weapon. Gaston might be an accomplished hunter and a crack shot, but she had never handled a firearm in her life. She hated guns. And in any case: "On what? What would I be aiming for?"

Gaston pursed his lips, nodding a little as he conceded her point. His dark eyes scanned the meadow for something on which Belle could practice her aim. The young woman half-hoped he wouldn't find anything. Then, he stilled and pointed sharply.

"There! At the base of that trunk. Edge of the glade. A squirrel! Do you see it?"

Belle nodded nervously, awkwardly hefting the rifle. Goosebumps prickled on her flesh when she felt Gaston's massive hands ghost down to her hips, maneuvering her until her back was flush against his truly toned chest.

"Into your stance," he commanded her, his voice sure and strong, a confidence that Belle felt compelled to obey. "Bring the gun up…." She did, somewhat competently. "And pull the butt tight into your shoulder."

Belle froze, not getting his meaning. "My what into my what?" Her brain registered acutely how the curved, shapely globes of her ass were flush with Gaston's abdominal muscles.

Gaston's stomach rumbled along her buttocks as he chuckled, the laugh a deep, rich baritone. He wasn't much taller than her, yet still significantly so. "My apologies. Bring the end of the gun tight into your shoulder. You should feel it dig in there."

Belle tried to follow what he told her. "Good," he extolled, and she felt herself flush pink at the praise.

"Now," Gaston's voice had softened considerably. "Line up your shot…. No, no, don't lean forward." His arms now completely encircled her waist, one of them reaching over her shoulder as his hand brushed hers. "Remember: keep the gun tight into your shoulder."

Belle obeyed, aiming the best she could. She wasn't sure if it was completely true before she fired.

BANG! Belle couldn't tell if she had hit the squirrel, and felt a twinge of concern for the little woodland animal. Gaston had farther sight – a hunter's sight – and he grinned. "You got it. Good show! – for a woman." Belle started to relax, in more ways than one. "Ah, now remember: always lower your weapon like this. Safety first…"

Gaston's thick, burly arms were back to encircling her as he guided her trigger finger. Turning her head back to take him in innocently, Gaston looked thoroughly pleased with how she was now almost at rest in his arms. "Hope you don't mind," and the card actually winked devilishly.

Belle smiled weakly. "Why do you think I wanted you to teach me?" she actually flirted, even though she had requested nothing of the kind. Gaston stared at her, and Belle felt him suddenly turning her around to face him. His large palms cradled her face and her bent quite close. Belle felt her heart hammering, and she wasn't sure whether or not she should pull away before he kissed her when –

ROAR! Belle and Gaston jumped apart before their lips could touch when a wolf suddenly lunged out of the forest and charged towards them. Gaston's stallion reared up on its hind legs and knickered, whinnying.

At some point in their interrupted embrace, Belle had dropped the gun, and Gaston snatched it up quickly, bringing the barrel up fast to shoot.

BANG!

Gaston actually missed, which Belle was sure was rare indeed. He reloaded, but it was nearly too late, the wolf was nearly on top of them –

Spying a large stick on the ground, Belle dove for it, and took a mighty whack at the wolf when it was in range. She caught it behind the ear, then its snout, before it suddenly lunged once more, fangs bared.

Belle cried out and swung the stick desperately, the wolf catching it in its teeth. She yielded her weapon, Gaston staggered back. Up came the rifle.

BANG! In the wolf's moment of indecision as it considered new tactics, Gaston brought it down with a shot at very close range. Gasping for breath, sufficiently rattled, Belle whirled around in concern to observe Gaston panting through a winded smile. She gazed at him in admiration for his bravery.

"Although quick thinking, what use have you for a stick? Against a wild beast like that, a staff alone wouldn't give you a sporting chance," Gaston huffed tiredly. "Only use what you have before you if it's the best defense you have – especially against beasts like that."

Belle nodded, trembling a little. "I…. I have to go." Lifting up her skirts, she began to run back towards Villeneuve.

"Belle, wait! May I at least escort you safely home?" Gaston pleaded.

"Please, Gaston, I can't, I have to go home and help my father. Good…. Goodbye."

Suddenly, there was a huge BOOM as the mushroom cloud from an explosion spiraled upwards in the distance. Heart back in her mouth, and realizing the cloud was coming, from a rough approximation, directly over her and her Papa's little cottage, Belle raced for home.