𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 herself at the window beside the door. There was a small alcove and the windowsill served as a seat. She gently brushed her hand against the wood reminiscing to a time when Celine was much younger. She'd catch her daughter seated by the window, sketching pictures of the night sky by way of lantern light when it was far past the girl's bedtime.

Her heart ached as her concern grew. The storm had only grown worse since Celine had left. Had she known, Althea never would have let her daughter leave. She would've tried harder to make her stay, even though she knew the girl would attempt to sneak out to find Belle on her own.

Celine cared about that girl more than she liked. It wasn't that she personally held anything against her, but she didn't like that it brought unwanted attention to Celine... attention that she had tried to dismiss.

They had moved to the village not long after Celine had been born. She was alone at that point. An unfortunate set of circumstances had ensured that she'd never lay eyes on her husband again.

She tried to force the memories away, but the blinding snow outside refused to let her forget. The last time that Villeneuve had seen a storm so bad was practically ten years ago.

There was a reason there were whispers behind her back. She thought she'd made sure the term witch would never be heard again, but she was mistaken. As time passed, she grew more frail and rusty when it came to the skill she had once perfected. But she had set them all aside to raise her daughter away from the dangers of the world.

She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she missed the shadows approaching her home. That is until they knocked. Her heart jumped with delight and relief believing that she'd see Celine when she opened the door. However, her face fell at the sight of Gaston, Maurice, LeFou, and the girl cradled in Gaston's arms. Celine wasn't with them.

Her expression hardened. "What do you want?"

"Please," Gaston made his request. Belle's unconscious form shivered in his arms. "The storm only grows worse. We'll never make it back to town."

Althea took a step back and silently invited them into her home. Gaston eagerly stepped inside and made himself at home in front of the fire, wrapping a blanket around Belle to try and warm her. Maurice was hesitant though, as if he'd recently had a poor experience with a host's hospitality.

Once all were inside, Althea glanced just one last time outside to make sure she hadn't been mistaken, then closed the door behind her. The room began to warm back up as the snow that had blown inside melted.

LeFou's teeth chattered, but he was the most observant. "Did you lose something?"

"Did you happen to see Celine—"

"Celine?" Gaston interrupted in confusion. "I told her to go home, why would she be out in the woods..."

Althea diverted her eyes, picking up her kettle from the table and entered the kitchen to prepare a warm drink for her unwanted guests while avoiding the conversation.

Gaston laid Belle down on the rug beside the fire, brushing aside a few of her stray hairs to restore an image of perfection before entering the kitchen after Althea. "Why would Celine be out in the forest?"

"She went looking for Belle," Althea quietly explained while filling the kettle with water she'd collected earlier. "I assumed she would have given up and come home when the temperature dropped... she's always hated the cold."

"You're her mother," Gaston's tone of voice rose, "How could you let her go?"

"How could I not?" Althea retorted, finally facing Gaston. "I cannot control her. She's quite capable of making her own decisions, but why do you care?"

Althea poked Gaston in the chest, forcing him to back out of the kitchen. She'd lost her patience. "Just because a wolf dresses like a sheep doesn't mean that it's changed."

Gaston raised his hands defensively and looked over at LeFou for help. "What's she going on about?"

LeFou didn't actually form words, but a series of sounds instead as he shrugged. Maurice caught on. "She sees through you, Gaston."

"Anyone could see the look in your eye and recognize the hunt of a predator," Althea continued, "You take my daughter out for an evening on the town, but as soon as a better 'opportunity' presented itself, you dropped your facade and allowed your true intentions to shine."

"Now, wait just a minute—" Gaston tried to defend himself.

"She was right to be wary of you, Monsieur Gaston," Althea interrupted again, "I should have trusted her judgement. Celine is my petit ange... Angels are meant to be pure, Monsieur, but it is beasts like you that strip them of their wings and force them to fall. Trust my word that I'm not going to let that happen."

Althea walked back into the kitchen to retrieve her kettle. Despite the dispute, they were still guests in her home and would be treated as such.

Gaston turned toward Maurice as if searching for help or a confidence boost, but the old man offered neither. In fact, he appeared pleased with everything that had been said. Gaston slumped into the rickety, wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room, sulking once more.

LeFou winced then took his time to approach. He released a quiet whistle as he moved a stool beside Gaston to serve as his own seat. "Ouch, shot down twice in one day..."

Gaston turned and glared at LeFou, raising his hand as if prepared to strike him, but stopped and elected to continue sulking.

"There are... other options," LeFou vaguely reminded him.

"The Bimbettes?" Gaston scoffed and rolled his eyes. "True, they have artificial beauty, but pale—"

"Not exactly who I had in mind," LeFou muttered under his breath, looking down toward the ground.

"—in light of comparison to Cel—Belle."

LeFou froze. Slowly, he lifted his head. An inquisitive, but amused look flashed across his face as Gaston quickly shook his head.

"What was that?"

"I said that they pale in comparison to the town's celestial beauty, Belle." Gaston crossed his arms but couldn't bring himself to look LeFou in the eye.

"No, no, no," LeFou contradicted his lie with a smile growing on his face, "you were going to say 'Celine'."

"That's absurd," Gaston scoffed, "Why would I say... her name, when I've got Belle right where I want her?"

The amused look left LeFou's face. "Trust me. You do not. Now, Celine on the other hand... you might actually have a shot."

"The plan was Belle, LeFou, remember?"

"Right." LeFou nodded, glanced over at Maurice, then looked back at Gaston. "I'm pretty sure the entire village knows that's going nowhere, but you've actually gotten Celine to agree to go out with you. Now you screwed things up pretty bad tonight, but there's still time to fix—"

"LeFou." Gaston spoke between gritted teeth and grabbed LeFou by the shoulders. The other man released a chirp of pain from the strength of his grip. "I am in love with Belle. Belle! Get that through your thick skull. It was a slip of the tongue that won't happen again."

"But—"

"No, you listen here and you listen good." Gaston gave him a firm shake as a warning. "I am going to marry Belle. When she wakes up tomorrow, I am going to make sure she hears of my heroic endeavor that saved her life. She'll swoon, she'll thank me, she will love me!"

"But Maurice—"

"Forget Maurice!" Gaston shouted. The two froze and glanced over at the fire where father and daughter were both fast asleep. LeFou sighed with relief, but the moment was short-lived as Gaston continued his scheme. "After everything that happened tonight, it will take little convincing to prove to Maurice that marriage is the best option to keep Belle safe. Is that clear?"

LeFou gulped but slowly nodded his head. "Crystal."

"Now let me rest," Gaston demanded, "I have a full day ahead of me."

LeFou couldn't leave fast enough. He scrambled away, tripping over the rug, but caught himself in the knick of time before colliding with the coffee table in the center of the room.

Althea crossed the room before entering her bedroom chambers. The door creaked shut behind her and the fire dimmed ever so slightly. Gaston raised an eyebrow but didn't think too much about it.

He turned in the rocking chair to try and find a comfortable position, but the effort was fruitless. Giving up, he stood and stretched; however, as his hands brushed against some sage tied and hung from the ceiling, Gaston noticed how many herbs and random glass vials filled the room. 

He was suddenly very aware of whose home he currently resided: the Villeneuve Witch. Surely the tales he'd heard had just been rumors to scare children into behaving. But as the light started to play tricks on his eyes, those stories didn't seem too far out of reach.

He shuddered and cowered further into the corner, retreating back to the rocking chair. He closed his eyes and decided that he would focus on something that always made him feel better: beauty.

Originally, he tried to picture how Belle would look walking down the aisle of the chapel on their wedding day. He quietly hummed under his breath along to the rhythm of the imaginary organ.

His bride walked down the aisle and he couldn't wait to unveil her face. He bounced with anticipation as the moment drew closer and closer. Finally, the priest gave him permission to look upon her face. With a dramatic flare, he threw back her veil but was greeted instead by the face of LeFou. The entire chapel laughed.

His eyes flashed open in horror and he covered his ears to drown out the imaginary sounds of humiliation. He took a deep breath and elected to try again, this time with something that never failed, the picture of perfection: himself.

That dream never came though. Instead, he walked down a dimly lit street. He swore it was the market place, but it had taken a shape that was unfamiliar to him. Aside from a lone wagon lit by a single lantern, he was completely alone.

The wagon driver stepped out from behind the cart and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Gather 'round and learn of your deepest, darkest desires!"

Gaston turned to walk the opposite way, but instantly appeared at the merchant's side instead.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur," the merchant greeted him with a toothy grin. "I have just what you desire."

Gaston scoffed and crossed his arms. "I don't think you do—"

The merchant interrupted him as he held out an intricately ornate silver mirror. Gaston raised an eyebrow, but accepted the gift. He straightened his posture and threw on his best charming smile as if prepared to waste away the next several hours gazing into his own eyes.

He was in for a shock though as a pair of emerald eyes stared back at his crystal blue. He moved the mirror away from his face. "What sort of trickery is this?"

"It shows you what you desire," the merchant reminded him. "There is no trick."

Gaston was more hesitant as he looked back at the sleek surface of the mirror, but instead of his own reflection, he was shown a vision of a girl in a feathered white dress walking down an aisle. A pair of strong hands that he recognized as his own removed the veil from her face to reveal Celine.

Her emerald eyes were filled with fondness and admiration as if looking at him through the mirror. It was her smile that entranced him though. She practically glowed as she smiled and he swore he could hear the melodic sound of her voice laughing.

In an instant, he was back in the tavern, dancing on one of the tables. Her smile was infectious as she twirled and laughed with delight. In all their brief time spent together as children, he swore he'd never seen her smile so bright. A sickening pit formed in his stomach, so much so, that he woke up from the horror of his own revelation.

The plan had failed. The angel didn't fall... he did.