((Note: Sorry it's been so long!))

Chapter Two: The Big Bad Wolf

The air was wet and sticky with summer rain. The sky was blacked out by clouds and thunder boomed in the distance like the beating of drums in heaven. A small inn flickered with candle light on the edge of a cliff on the west coast of France. A slim man with a golden tooth played an uncomplicated tune on the piano in the corner while the rest of the men inhabiting the pub sat with their beer mugs over flowing, wet hair falling in their faces. "

Seems the King's been havin' troubles; France is ready to move in any day now." "

That why yer here?"

The first speaker laughed heartily. "Lord no! I'd never dream 'uh helpin' France! If anythin' I'll take me boat out to that island and offer my services to them!"

"Oh sure you will! That's a cry 'uh lies if I ever heard 'un!" A man with a pale scar across the left side of his face said. "

Well then I'll stay comfortable right here 'en. That do ya Cavlin?!" The first speaker laughed again and the man with the scar shook his head taking a large swig from his mug.

"They are lookin' fer some 'un to help 'em out though; I s'pose anyone outside the law would do well to go thar." Suddenly the door swung open and all heads turned to watch a cloaked man rush from the pub.

"Wonder whar 'ee thinks 'ee's goin'." The first man snickered.

The man sploshed down the side of the hill, his right leg dragging slightly behind him, his right arm held across his chest. There were few things he remembered from before the fall. He remembered a room full of furs and animal heads- presumably all from animals he'd killed, but he couldn't for the life of him remember how to use a gun. He could see vague outlines of people he must have known, and the pearly face of a woman he could only describe as "Belle". The rest was lost to him, save his name; Gaston.

The wind blew the hood of his cloak back and revealed a handsome face, long , black strands of hair falling in his face, blood trickling from just above his right temple. When he'd woken up in the ravine below the palace he couldn't seem to remember what had happened, how he'd ended up so precariously positioned in the shallow river below it. He'd thought of going to ask the owners of the castle, but something inside him to him that wasn't an option. So instead he followed the river in the opposite direction away from the palace. It had led him to a much larger river and landed him here at the sea side. He had few options left since he couldn't remember much, but what the man had said in the pub had seemed as good an option as anything. If he found free passage to this island he might be able to find work, re-create the life he couldn't quite remember. If they needed protection he was sure he could figure out how to use a gun again. He could offer himself up as whatever they needed, so long as they would accept him. He made his way toward a small dock from which fishing boats usually left. He set himself in the grass just above the dock, intending to offer himself as a free laborer for passage to the island, whatever it was called. But it was likely that the rain wouldn't stop for some time.

Lottie stumbled onto the dock, her face sickly pale, and her clothes drenched from the rain. A kind old man held and umbrella over her head and escorted her to the small house where she would wait for the King and Queen's coach to bring her to the palace. A boy walked behind them with her bags. All ten of them piled impossibly all over his body.

"Here you are, Miss LaBouff. Your coach should arrive presently."

Lottie nodded and sighed. She'd expected beautiful sunshine when she arrived, not dismal rainfall. It only made her think about how sunny and perfect her wedding day has been. How the pink flowers and pink ribbons and pink everything ad gleamed in that perfect sunlight and how a sweet breeze had rolled off of the water, making everything feel like spring time. She set her chin in a gloved hand and sighed again. "

Somethin' wrong, Miss?" The boy asked, sitting on top of her biggest suit case.

"Oh, no darlin'. I was just thinkin'." She smiled a little, but the boy remained unconvinced.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a croissant. "It's not fresh, exactly, but it's only from this mornin'." He held it out to her.

Lottie took it and bit into it carefully. The boy was right, it wasn't fresh but it was still one of the best things she'd ever tasted. "Oh my! This is even better than Tiana's! Don't tell her I said that though." She winked at the boy and giggled. "

I'm glad to make you smile." The boy said in return.

The coach arrived a few minutes later and the boy helped load Lottie's things into the back compartment. "Thank you!" Lottie shouted out the window as the coach started down the path toward the palace.