Gaston may have had little appreciation for non-antler-related home decor, but he knew luxury when he saw it. His assigned bed was soft as he lay on it. Finally, a home befitting of his greatness. Not that he would tell the Beast that.
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He closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted from a day of hunting. ‘Do you think he’s, er… really the one?’ A posh male voice asked in the distance. Gaston opened one eye.
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‘But of course! It is destiny that he has been brought here.’ The other voice had the thickest French accent Gaston had ever heard. ‘And look at how flustered the master is acting! He could be the one to break the spell!’
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‘But he’s a man!’
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‘You have clearly never visited Paris.’
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By this point, both of Gaston’s eyes were open. He stomped to the door but, when he opened it, he saw no one. He looked down at the floor and saw a lit candelabra and a quietly ticking clock. Confusion washed over his face but he closed the door and lumbered back to his bed with his eyes already half-closed.
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Before he reached the bed, he bumped into something. He gasped. Then he heard a gasp. Then he gasped again.
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‘Ooh, careful!’
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A portly wardrobe stood before him. With a smile. A human smile.
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Gaston raised his fists. ‘What are you, you… you… creature?’
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‘My, my, this one’s feisty.’
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‘He could use a spot of tea, I think,’ a motherly voice claimed from behind him. A teapot bounced onto his shoulder.
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Gaston grabbed the teapot and dangled it in the air by its handle. ‘Is everyone in this castle a freak?’
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‘Hey, let Mama go!’ a squeaky voice attempted to command. On the ground was a little teacup with a chip in its rim, bouncing on the floor as he moved forward like the teapot earlier.
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Gaston let go of the teapot, which was caught by the candelabra. The clock was there too, smugly smirking at the candelabra.
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‘I told you so,’ it said.
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Gaston plopped onto the bed, taking time to process everything in front of him. ‘Have I started dreaming?’
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‘Oh no, dear, this is very much real,’ the teapot replied. ‘Oh, my apologies. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Mrs Potts, your humble servant.’
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The candelabra was Lumiere, Cogsworth was the clock and the wardrobe was Madame de la Grande Bouche. The cup with a chip was, fittingly enough, called Chip.
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‘Wonderful,’ Gaston said while rubbing his face. ‘Not only do I have to live with the ugliest monster alive, I also have to live with his band of creepy servants. What a time to be alive.’
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Lumiere and Cogsworth looked at each other with concerned faces. As if on cue, the Beast knocked on the door.
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‘You will join me for dinner.’ A pause followed. ‘That is not a request!’
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Mrs Potts stepped closer to the door. ‘Temper, Master, temper!’
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Gaston scoffed a laugh at the Beast. ‘And what will you do if I say no?’
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The Beast was silent for a moment before growling. ‘Don’t push me! If you don’t eat with me, you don’t eat at all!’ Gaston could hear thudding footsteps that faded into silence.
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‘You really shouldn’t make the master mad,’ Mrs Potts said. Gaston flexed his biceps as if that counted as a response.
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He lied back down and considered doing the unthinkable- thinking. How easy would it be to escape? He was not one to make plans, but without plans, Belle would be out of reach.
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Just as he started thinking, he fell asleep.
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In the middle of the night, he awoke to a grumbling stomach. He headed out of the room in search of Cogsworth. When he found him, he picked him up and looked at the time. He then leaned in closer to intimidate him.
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‘Where’s dinner?’
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‘Well, M-master said-’
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‘And I’m saying-’
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‘Be our guest!’ The two twisted their heads and saw Lumiere, who led them to the dining room. A long table stood in the middle of it, a vast number of living appliances presenting an equally vast array of food. In song, no less.
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Gaston ignored the smiling knife and fork on the table, grabbing a chicken drumstick and tearing the meat off with his teeth. As he ate, he put his feet on the table. He smiled at the taste and Cogsworth huffed a sigh like he had just dodged one of Gaston’s abandoned bullets.
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Still, Cogsworth repeatedly turned his head side to side as if checking for traces of the Beast. Lumiere noticed this and lit one of his candles, holding it in front of Cogsworth as the two stood on the table. The clock closed his eyes and let the cosy heat engulf his body. His shoulders finally relaxed.
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He looked up at a winking Lumiere and his pendulum rapidly swung back and forth. Lumiere pulled his candle back as a silent apology but Cogsworth took Lumiere’s arm and pulled the candle back towards him.
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Cogsworth pursed his lips in thought. He gave Lumiere a sheepish wink back. The flame in Lumiere’s candle shot up, bursting with energy. Still, Cogsworth kept it near him, waiting patiently for it to die down.
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After a few seconds of mutual silent gazing, Cogsworth let go of Lumiere’s hand and crossed his arms.
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‘Th-th-this is most unorthodox! I cannot keep up with your methods of wooing. I am clearly at wick’s end!’
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Lumiere’s laughter warmed Cogsworth’s soul more than any candle flame ever could.
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The two were so embroiled in their flirting that neither noticed the absence of a certain muscular man. Gaston headed to the castle's front door, only to remember the West Wing. He tiptoed up the stairs to the wing as if to make up for his loud footsteps.
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The wing was mainly one room, a dark and messy room at that. Upon entering it and stepping over the broken furniture, Gaston strolled past the portrait of a handsome young man, only to take a few steps back once he noticed the scratch marks. Envy at the man’s looks brewed inside his gut, the torn parts offering relief from such an emotion.
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Another relief came in the form of a glowing pink light. Gaston walked towards it and saw a rose floating inside a tall glass lid, a handheld mirror lying next to it. He gazed at his reflection, the handsome portrait disappearing from his mind. The rose drew his attention again.
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Some of the petals had fallen onto the table, but most were still intact. Gaston pictured giving a glowing rose to Belle. As soon as that thought entered his mind, he pulled the lid up and reached for the flower.
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‘I warned you not to come here!’
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Gaston pivoted towards the Beast. He was still not used to that horrid face, especially with its fur sticking up like a porcupine’s quills. The Beast’s shadow engulfed the spot where Gaston stood.
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It snatched the lid from Gaston and pushed him away. ‘Do you realise what you could have done? Get out!’
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Gaston held up his fists but then remembered how that went last time. He raced out of the room. He could take it on. He could totally take it on. He wasn’t afraid. He just wanted to leave anyway.
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Once he was on Maurice’s horse and out of the castle, a chill seeped into his bones. Snow constantly pummeled onto him, the wind’s roar even louder than the Beast’s. But Gaston pressed on. He kept riding until he heard a chorus of howls shatter the air.
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