𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 his foot as he sat at the bar within the tavern. He huffed and whirled around, looking at the setting sun through the window. Surely they were late by now and patience had always been a personal struggle for him.

"They'll be here," LeFou reassured him, beginning to massage the tension from his shoulders.

Gaston released a pleased sigh, but quickly slapped LeFou's hands away once he realized that the action distracted from his brooding.

"I just wanted to help," LeFou apologized.

"You can help by keeping your eyes peeled for a certain angel," Gaston retorted just as the bell attached to the tavern door rang.

Gaston's hopes rose and deflated simultaneously as he turned to face the couple entering. Belle waved to greet him and dragged along the bookkeeper, whose name he'd already forgotten, behind her to join them at the bar.

"Bonsoir, Gaston."

"Bonsoir, Belle," Gaston returned the greeting with a false smile. He hesitated as he turned toward her partner.

The lad sighed as if he'd had to remind the hunter of his name over a dozen times already, which he had, "Hugo, Monsieur."

"Yes, of course," Gaston nodded, gripping the lad's hand as he shook it. "I knew that."

It wasn't long though before his attention drifted back toward the door. Gaston's brow knit together in confusion. "Wasn't Celine with you?"

Belle sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck, sighed, then shook her head. "She mentioned other plans..."

"Other plans?" Gaston questioned.

Belle slowly nodded her head. "She mentioned dinner at the castle—"

"Belle." Gaston interrupted and his expression had fallen into a deep frown. "If she didn't want to come, just say so. Don't make up excuses. Remember, we established that the combination of being lost in the dark and cold created hallucinations. Neither your father nor you encountered any beasts aside from the wolves."

Belle hesitated, but accepted his reasoning with a nod of her head. Her voice was quiet as she continued the conversation. "Alright... Celine won't be joining us. In fact, I'm not sure how much longer she'll stick around."

"What do you mean?" Gaston asked.

Seeing that Belle had suddenly grown nervous to explain, Hugo jumped into the conversation. Although he personally hadn't met Celine, he'd heard enough from Belle to understand. He also had no problem upsetting the man who seemed to possess no insight to the feelings of those around him. "Celine wants to travel, see the world. The only thing keeping her in town is her mother, but seeing that Madame de Fayette is capable enough to care for herself, I don't see Celine staying here much longer."

Gaston's face contorted with a variety of expressions ranging from frustration to rage. Hugo didn't plan to stick around long enough to see the end results. He took Belle by the hand and led her toward the exit of the tavern. For some reason, Belle didn't quite understand that Gaston was simply using her to grow closer with Celine. A common pattern from what he'd heard. However, since the hunter had saved her life a few months ago, he understood that she felt indebted. "The festival is starting, we should go."

Belle didn't argue. Her mood seemed to lighten as they left Gaston and LeFou seated at the bar. Meanwhile, Gaston's frown deepened as he watched the bookworm and bookkeeper walk away arm-in-arm.

"There's still time to look at your other options," LeFou offered solace. "I know I pointed you in Celine's direction but perhaps that was a bad move on my part. She's the daughter of the Villenueve Witch, I should've realized nothing good could—"

"The Villenueve Witch?" Gaston muttered inaudibly. A look of realization flashed across his face as his hand drifted toward the pocket with the vial Althea had given him. The rumors were true after all and perhaps he could work that to his advantage. "The Villenueve Witch..."

"—so maybe we could still attend the festival on our own, yeah?" LeFou paused as he noticed that Gaston was no longer paying attention to him. He released a sigh. "You okay?"

"Lefou, I'm afraid I've been thinking."

"A dangerous pastime—"

"I know," Gaston agreed. "But that eerie old maid is her mother, and her prestige's only so-so. Now the wheels in my head have been turning, since I looked at that mysterious maid. See I promised myself I would marry Celine and right now I'm evolving a plan!"

He pulled LeFou closed by the collar of his shirt and began to whisper in his ear. "If I..."

"Yes?"

"Then I..."

"No, would she?"

"... guess!"

"Now I get it!"

"Let's go!" They both stood and began to move toward the tavern door, singing. "No one plots like Gaston, takes cheap shots like Gaston!"

"Plans to persecute ghastly old bats like Gaston." Against his better nature, LeFou instantly believed every word that Gaston had whispered to him. For what reason did he have to lie...

"So his marriage we soon'll be celebrating!" The rest of the tavern joined in since neither the hunter nor his sidekick had really kept their plans all that secret. "My what a guy, Gaston!"

"Send for Monsieur D'arque, LeFou," Gaston instructed. "I have a witch to report."

———— 𖥸 ————

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐔𝐑 𝐃'𝐀𝐑𝐐𝐔𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 his brow as he took a seat at the table placed at the back of the room. "I don't usually leave the asylum in the middle of the night, but they said you'd make it worth my while."

Gaston nudged LeFou in the side and the shorter man quickly pulled out the pouch of gold Gaston had given him to hold on to. Monsieur D'arque opened the sack, exposed a piece of gold to the open air then scraped it against his chin as if to either prove its value or contemplate the offer. Gaston looked at him expectantly.

"Ah," the older man nodded. "I'm listening."

"It's like this," Gaston explained, "I've got my heart set on marrying Celine, but she needs a little persuasion—"

"Turned him down flat!" LeFou butted in, earning a firm knock upside the head.

"Everyone knows her mother's a witch," Gaston continued once he finished glaring at LeFou.

Monsieur D'arque scoffed. "The village people have been saying that about Althea for years. Where is your proof?"

"How is this for proof?" Gaston asked, pulling the vial from his personal pouch. The pink liquid within glowed a bit brighter with the sudden movement.

Monsieur D'arque's eyes widened as his attention was drawn to the vial; however, he tried to conceal his surprise as he silently requested Gaston hand the vial over. The hunter hesitated but ultimately offered the vial. D'arque removed the cork lid and took a quick whiff of the potion before recoiling, slightly dazed.

"You may just be on to something, Monsieur LeGume," D'arque admitted. "Where did you get this?"

"The witch made it for me herself," Gaston replied. "She's not as harmless as she claims to be and Celine needs to know."

A puzzled look crossed LeFou's face. "Um, Gaston. If we get rid of Althea, won't Celine just leave?"

Gaston chuckled. "Oh, my poor clueless confidante, when Althea's secret is exposed, Celine will realize I'm the only one who's ever looked out for her."

LeFou opened his mouth to voice his confusion as to how that added up, but Gaston didn't let him speak. "The point is, Celine will need to feel safe and who could keep her safer than me?"

"So you want me to throw her mother in the asylum until we can properly deal with the witch while you swoop in and console the girl?" D'arque asked, making sure he understood his role. Gaston and LeFou nodded in unison. The older man offered a twisted grin in return. "Oh, that is despicable. I love it!"

"What all do you need?" Gaston asked.

"All the able-bodied men you can gather," D'arque replied. "If we are truly dealing with a witch, it is better to be over prepared than underestimate their power."

"Anything else?" Gaston asked again, unconvinced they wouldn't need some weapon strong enough to face magic.

"Fire," D'arque replied after a beat of silence. "Fire weakens their connection to nature and consequently the power of their magic."

The conversation ended and the deal was struck. It had been ages since Villenueve had seen a proper witch hunt, but if all went accordingly, the fires that would taint the skies that evening might purge the evil blemishing their quaint provincial life.