"But father, I don't want to marry him! You don't understand! I don't love him!" The door slammed in Belle's face, and she thumped her fists angrily against it. "Father!"

Silence echoed back to her. Belle could not believe it. After fighting for so long, her father had finally stood his ground beyond what she could talk her way out of. She was going to be married in a year. And to Gaston – the horrible pig-head who wanted nothing but to prove himself a man. She could never love someone as superficial as Gaston. But she clearly had no choice. What did love matter when you were a princess? What did Belle's feelings matter as long as the kings and queens were happy and everyone got their fair share of land and riches?

She sat on her bed quietly for a few moments, hands restless on her lap, not even able to read a book in her anger, before there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," said Belle anxiously.

To her annoyance, Gaston opened her door and sauntered inside, his hand resting on his sword as always. "Your father wishes that you join us downstairs."

"Why?" Belle stood up grudgingly.

Gaston held out his arm. "A lady should not ask questions."

She bit back her retort and placed her arm on his, allowing him to lead her downstairs, neither one speaking a word.

They descended the many stairs, reaching the doors to her father's throne room, only to have them pulled open from the other side, guards standing dutifully in front of them. Gaston slowly walked forward, and Belle followed him.

Her father sat on his throne staring coldly at a motionless red heap on the ground. Soldiers pointed their swords at it, and Gaston stiffened beside her. "What's going on, father?" Belle asked sternly, stepping away from Gaston and moving to stand beside the king.

"Get away from this monster, Belle."

The red cloak on the ground stirred lightly, and there was a soft moan. "Father?" Belle moved to crouch by its side curiously. The guards slowly lowered their swords, eyes searching for any suspicious movement. She brushed the hood on the cloak back slowly to reveal a girl around her age, curled black hair tangled and messy. Her hands were bound as tightly as they could be, leaving sharp red marks on her pale skin. There was a large bruise under her eye and a gash along her cheek, which was dripping blood over her lips, through which a gag had been placed. She looked pathetic, but the guards seemed to be treating her like a trophy they had hunted.

"Belle! I told you to get away from there!"

"Father, this is a girl – not an animal." She narrowed her eyes at him, sure there must be some kind of misunderstanding.

"This beast is nothing but a threat to our kingdom, and as such, it must be executed." Belle heard the girl whimper quietly as she looked into her eyes desperately.

"What has she done to deserve death?!"

"Belle, that is enough!" Her father's voice shook with anger. "One day, you will have to make decisions such as these, and you will understand."

"I will never be like you, father," said Belle softly, silently pleading with him.

But it was no use. The king simply jerked his head, and Belle lowered her head in disbelief, a part of her still refusing to accept that her papa could do such an awful thing.

One of the guards drew his sword as Gaston reached to pull her out of the way. Both Belle and the girl began to struggle, but it was no use. "Father – father please!" she cried desperately as her fingers parted with the soft cloak.

The girl's beautiful hair was gripped tightly in a soldier's hand as he pulled her up and lightly placed the blade of his sword across her throat. Tears fell fast from her cheeks, and Belle watched helplessly as Gaston firmly wrapped an arm across her waist and pulled her against him.

The guards waited for their command, but to everyone's surprise, it did not come. Maurice was staring at his daughter with confusion and frustration as he uttered, "No."

"Your Majesty?"

"Lower your sword."

"But Your Majesty – "

" – Lower your sword!"

Immediately, all the guards placed their swords back into their hilts. The girl was pushed like a doll to the floor, where she lay and did not move again. "Leave us," whispered Maurice, and everyone but Gaston departed.

"Father," Belle said quietly, waiting for it to come, waiting for him to hit her, waiting for his voice to echo loudly through the throne room. "Father, I'm sorry."

"You have lost my trust today, Belle. I have never been more ashamed of you. It pains me to think of what your mother would say." Belle cringed.

"But she's not a monster, Father; she's a person."

"She is a werewolf," he spat, and Belle let out a small gasp of surprise. "Why should it matter what she appears to be? You embarrassed me to save a beast, Belle. That is why you are to be married; you are too naive to make such decisions, but Gaston will not submit to your pleas as I have today." Belle stayed silent, loathing both Gaston and her father more than she ever had in her life. "Because of what you have done, the wedding has been moved forward to one month's time. In one month, you will be married to Gaston, and in one month, Belle, she will die, and you will no longer be around to stop me."

Belle wanted to cry, to sink to her knees, to pummel her father and Gaston to the floor, but she could not – that was not what a princess was supposed to do.

"I know you don't see it right now, but you must understand that I am only doing what is best for my kingdom." His gaze softened as he looked at his daughter, reaching out to stroke her cheek softly. Belle closed her eyes and pulled away.

"Gaston, take my daughter to her room and see to it that this creature is thrown into the deepest, darkest place of the dungeons."

"Come, Belle," her fiancé held out his arm again, but Belle merely stared at it.

"Belle!" shouted Maurice, and she hastily put her own arm on top of Gaston's as the door opened again, and the guards roughly dragged the poor girl past them.

Belle waited until they were out of her father's earshot before asking, "What's in the deepest, darkest place of the dungeons?" She had always remembered the stories about it, the reminders to never go there, and it had been the fear in her papa's voice that had convinced her to listen to him for once. But she was not as easily frightened now, and she would not stand by and let this poor girl suffer such a terrible fate.

"What have I told you about asking questions?"

"I'm not a child, Gaston. What's down there?"

"You really want to know?" He stopped walking.

Belle nodded eagerly. Her curiosity often got the best of her, so she knew Gaston would believe the innocence of her request.

"Well, as much as I would quite enjoy the look on your face, I'm afraid your father would thoroughly murder me."

"No, he wouldn't, Gaston. I'm going to be a queen soon, and I still haven't seen the entire castle. I don't know why father insists on treating me like a child."

Gaston laughed. "Because you are as naïve as one," he scolded. "If you really wish me to take you there, I shall, but bear in mind, Belle: you won't be able to forget what you see."

Belle was not to be deterred; she nodded. "I'm not afraid – if that's what you're implying."

"Yet – you're not afraid yet."

"Red, look out!" Snow pushed her into the frosty ground as an arrow thudded into the bark of a tree, quivering centimeters from where Red's head had been only a moment ago. "Come on! They've found us, Red! Run!"

Snow pulled her up, and the two girls abandoned their fire and began to stumble through the blizzard, ducking and leaping as they sprinted away from the fast-approaching horses.

"Quick! In here!" Red jumped over a large log and pulled Snow underneath it. Both panted loudly and heavily for a few moments, listening intently. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Red whispered, "I think they're gone," and leaned against the cold trunk.

"I'm sorry, Red," said Snow in a sad breath. "I shouldn't have brought you into this."

"For the thousandth time, we're in this together. Isn't that what you said?" Red gave an encouraging smile and squeezed her hand.

She sighed. "Get some sleep; I'll take first watch."

Red did not argue but closed her eyes gratefully, welcoming the darkness.

When she woke up, Red was startled to find Snow was not there. It was still dark outside; the bright light of the full moon shone into Red's shelter, and she clutched her cloak closer.

"Snow?" she whispered cautiously, throwing her hood over her head. "Snow?" Red stepped into the forest. "Snow!" She dared to raise her voice.

Out of the corner of her eye, branches began to separate, and her companion fell through them, looking paler than Red had ever known her to be. There was an arrow protruding from her stomach, and blood dripped from her mouth as she rasped, "Run." Then Snow collapsed, and thick red liquid slowly spread across the ground.

There was no time to react. Red felt an arrow whiz by her head as the light of the moon reflected all around her. In one swift motion, her cloak fluttered to the ground, and Red was on four paws, covered in familiar black fur, feeling anger course through her veins.

Adrenaline filled every crevice inside her as twenty guards appeared on the hill overlooking Snow's fallen body, their swords gleaming. Red easily leapt over her friend and let out a howl.

The soldiers in front faltered: too bad for them. Now, there was chaos; guards scampered like rats before the wolf – all the easier to dispose of. The last one pleaded for his life, but Red silenced him in one bite.

The werewolf stood amidst the bodies – bleeding from missing and torn limbs, gashes and decapitation. For the first time in her life, Red felt more monster than human, but the regret would come later.

She pattered quickly to her cloak and nudged it over her shoulders. Once Red could stand on two feet, she hurried to Snow's side and rolled her over. Blood had stopped flowing from her lips, her eyes were glassy, and her chest no longer rose and fell with breath.

Red could not bear to look in Snow's dead eyes anymore and was grateful when her own filled with tears, the world around her blurring as it ended. "Snow," she whispered. "Snow, please come back to me, please. Please, Snow, I don't know what to do without you." Red felt the tears continue to slide down her face, making her cheeks cold and damp. She buried her face in Snow's blood-stained hand, gripping it tightly in her own. She closed her eyes tightly, her teeth gritted together as she tried to block out the wind and the cold, knowing it didn't matter right now. Nothing mattered.

Red opened her eyes, slowly noticing the pain in the back of her head, the stinging cold that buffeted her face and the burning feeling on her wrists.

She was lying in the snow, her hands bound behind her back. Red tried to sit up. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear." Footsteps were approaching her. "You've got an awful bump on your head."

"Who – who are you?" shivered Red. "Where's Sn – Snow?"

"Snow White is on her way back to my castle – where she belongs." There was a strangely venomous tone in the woman's voice.

After a moment, something clicked into place. "Regina – you – you're Regina, aren't y – you?"

"Now, now, that's no way to address your queen."

Red sat up clumsily and turned to face her defiantly. "You're not a queen; you're a monster."

A dark shadow flitted across Regina's eyes. "Me? A monster? What a hypocritical thing to say." The queen crouched in front of Red and grabbed her chin.

"Why don't you just kill me? Kill me like you did Snow." She hated saying it, hated acknowledging the fact that Snow was dead, hated begging that her life be taken from her. But she was too angry to care.

Regina laughed. "Oh don't you worry, my dear. You'll die soon enough. In fact, I think I hear your executioners approaching."

Sure enough, Red could hear the sounds of men's voices slowly approaching, their boots crunching against the snow. "Stay put." Red was about to kick her feet when thick branches began to wrap themselves around her body like snakes, and in a few seconds, she had no choice but to stay exactly where she was as they tangled between her arms, legs, chest, neck and knees.

"Do you have what I want?" She heard Regina hiss. There was a very long moment of silence. Then the weight on Red's chest lifted, and she sat up again, taking in the six people before her.

There were only five guards. She knew she could take them, but only once Regina was gone.

"Get up!" shouted the man farthest to the left as he extended his sword.

"Take it easy," Red said calmly. "I'm of no threat – "

" – No threat?!" He swung the butt of the sword, and it hit Red across the face. She doubled over awkwardly, her hands still tied behind her back.

"Timothy!" The others were trying to restrain him.

"We – know what you – are!"

"Timothy, the king will deal with her!"

"She killed them! All of them!"

"And I would do it again," Red spat, trying to shake the dizziness away.

The guard started forward again, and Red ducked out of the way of his sword, her hand coming free thanks to the sharp twigs that had pressed into the ropes. She swung her fist around and punched him so hard that he fell to the ground and didn't get up.

She caught the hilt of the sword before it fell to the ground and raised it, the tip pointed underneath Regina's throat.

The Evil Queen looked genuinely surprised before she gave a cold smile, snapping her fingers. Red fell forward slowly, her eyes closing as the world pressed against her.

"Well, here we are. The dungeon – just as you asked," Gaston muttered.

"This is the big, bad dungeon you're so afraid of?" laughed Belle as they reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, her fingers brushing against the concrete walls. "What's so terrible about this?"

"We're not there yet," he sighed impatiently at her amusement.

A soldier stepped forward cautiously. "Sir Gaston, I thought the king had forbidden the princess from ever stepping foot here."

"His orders have changed Lumiere," Gaston commanded easily. "Let us in."

"Yes, sir." He hastily pulled at a metal chain, which lifted a small set of iron bars, revealing a walkway large enough to fit four people.

Beyond the doorway, in the slight darkness, were several jail cells. Belle still didn't understand what the fuss was about; it seemed like all the dungeons she had read of. Gaston nudged her forward. "Walk to the end of the hall."

She bravely began to walk through the doorway, past the empty jail cells dimly lit with torches and to the end of the hall. "Ooh," she teased with a smile. "You and my father were right all along; that was absolutely terrifying."

Gaston pulled a key out of his pocket and reached for a handle that Belle had not seen. It was buried in the wall, and he turned the key in the lock and pulled. The door dragged along the ground as he heaved.

Shivers ran down Belle's spine that she could not control, and her skin began to crawl. All she saw beyond the doorway was dark – pitch black, unknowable darkness. "Well, what are you waiting for, Belle?" Gaston smirked.

She gulped but bravely took a step forward, feeling a slight relief to find there was a floor underneath her but refusing to let Gaston know that she had lost her confidence.

"What's the matter? Are you afraid of the dark?" whispered Gaston.

"No," she insisted, slowly taking another step forward. "My father ... puts people in here?"

"This place is home to the worst scum you could imagine, creatures that fill your nightmares. Creatures too horrible to read about in your books," he hissed.

Belle turned around and jumped at how close he was. "I want her out of here," said Belle sternly, putting as much intimidation into her voice as she could.

"Now, Belle, you know your father's orders."

"I want that girl out of here, Gaston," she repeated. "Even if that means I must take her place."

"Your father would never allow that."

"My father doesn't need to know," whispered Belle slowly. "Please Gaston."

She couldn't see the look on his face but felt him brush past her as he said with frustration, "Go wait by the stairs, Belle."

Trying to hide her eagerness and surprise, she walked out of the darkness and felt the dim light hit her skin as warm and comforting as sunlight now.

Finally, she reached the soldier who was standing guard and he gave her a wary look. "Where is Sir Gaston, miss?"

"He's coming, and you can call me Belle," she smiled kindly.

"I'm afraid I can't, miss, but thank you." He turned a slight shade of pink as Gaston walked through the hole, carrying the cloaked, limp figure in his arms.

"Is she all right?" asked Belle.

"She'll be fine," he nodded. "Magic takes a longer time to wear off than a mere blow to the head."

"Magic?"

"Yes, Queen Regina traded her to your father, and almost no one knows magic like she does."

"Let's go upstairs," Belle said, and he followed her quickly.

The journey upstairs seemed even longer now that they were breaking her father's rules. When they finally reached Belle's room, she quietly twisted the doorknob, and Gaston walked inside and set the girl effortlessly on the sofa.

"Thank you, Gaston," said Belle sincerely.

He nodded and customarily kissed her hand, his eyes lingering a bit longer than they normally did. "Good night, Belle," he stammered.

"Good night," she whispered back.

The door closed as quietly as it had opened, and Belle immediately turned back to her couch where the girl lay peacefully, her beautiful black hair draped over her arm and her red cloak covering her like a blanket.

Cautiously, Belle stepped forward, her shoes clicking sharply against the floor. She lightly brushed a few strands of hair from the girl's face and felt her forehead gently with the back of her hand; it was burning with fever. However, her body was shaking violently, and it was not hard to see why. The red cloak was damp, white snowflakes lay casually in the girl's hair and her feeble shoes were soaked.

Belle immediately started a fire in the fireplace behind the couch and knelt beside her. "Wake up," she whispered. "Come on; you can do it. Open your eyes. … Wake up," Belle said softly as the girl's eyes fluttered and finally opened.

She was upright a second later. "Who – who are y – you?!" she shouted as her teeth chattered violently, trying desperately to get away from Belle.

"It's okay; you're all right. You're safe."

"S – safe?" The girl scoffed doubtfully.

Belle nodded, a soft, reassuring smile on her face.

A look of realization slowly passed through the girl's eyes. "I re – rememb – ber you n – now. You – saved me."

"I'm Belle," she greeted. "But I think we should get you some warm clothes before we start talking, maybe a hot bath. You could catch hypothermia."

The girl looked at her curiously but slowly began to nod.

Smiling to herself, Belle grabbed a light crimson nightgown from her dresser and held it out. "Red seems to be your color."

A small smirk spread across her face, and Belle felt rather pleased with herself. "Come on; I'll start the water."

She led the way to the bathroom and turned on the faucet to the gigantic, light-blue tub. "It may take a while to fill, but it'll be warm."

"Thank y – you." There was an impressed amazement on her face; clearly she had not been raised in a castle.

Belle smiled. "You're welcome."

For a while, they simply stood there, unsure of what to say. Finally, when the water reached near the brim of the deep tub, Belle turned off the faucet. "There are smaller towels and soap in this cabinet. Here's a towel and a hair brush. Take as much time as you need," she said kindly.

"Thanks," repeated the girl.

"It's not a problem. I'll be out here if you need me."

She was about to close the door when she heard, "My name's Red."

"It's nice to meet you, Red," Belle laughed at the smile on her face and closed the door softly.

Red sat in the tub for a long time, letting the warmth overtake her until at long last, her teeth stopped chattering and she could feel her feet again.

When she emerged from the bathroom, hair brushed, cleaner than she'd been probably in her life and at a much more suitable temperature, she was surprised to find Belle fast asleep on her bed. She was sprawled on top of the sheets, still fully dressed, a book lying open beside her.

Unsure of what she should do, Red delicately closed the book and set it on top of the bedside table. However, unlike Red, Belle was a light sleeper. She was upright in a matter of seconds. "What's going on?" she mumbled tiredly, her words slightly jumbled together, her eyes fluttering a few times before they stayed open.

"You fell asleep," Red stuttered nervously, "I – I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's fine," yawned Belle. "I'm glad you did. Now that I'm awake, I can answer your questions."

"Oh," smiled Red bashfully. "Are you sure? I could wait until morning." In all honesty, she wanted answers now, but it was out of courtesy and gratitude that she offered the choice.

Belle beamed back at her. "I don't know; I wouldn't be able to wait – if it were me." Her blue eyes bore into Red's, causing light pink tinges to appear on her cheeks. It was as if she could see straight through her. "Please sit down."

Red sat at the foot of the bed, her cloak folded neatly in her lap, while Belle leaned against her pillow, now looking fully alert. "What would you like to know first?"

"Where am I?" Red asked immediately.

"You're in King Maurice's castle – just north of the Enchanted Forest, which, I'd imagine, is where you're from?"

Red nodded. "How did I get here?"

"Gaston mentioned something about Queen Regina earlier. He didn't tell me anything else though. … Do you remember anything?"

"I – I remember everything until I felt the knife cut into my throat," she whispered.

"Oh … oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have – "

" – Don't worry about it." Red's voice was hoarse and quiet as she remembered the full details of last night, and it did not take long for her eyes to fill with tears.

"Well, thanks for everything. I'm kind of tired, so… " Red trailed off, and Belle nodded slowly.

"Why don't you sleep on my bed? I can stay awake and make sure no one barges in here."

"No, I couldn't," insisted Red.

"Please." Belle slid off the sheets, and her bare feet hit the ground.

"Are – are you sure?" Red asked quietly, still managing to hide the tears dripping from her eyes while she avoided Belle's gaze.

"Of course I'm sure. Be my guest." She pulled the silky sheets back with a smile and gestured for Red to slide underneath them.

Red crawled her way towards the head of the bed, letting her hair fall in front of her face. That was when her control vanished suddenly, and the tears fell so fast, nothing was visible, and her body ached as it shook violently with shudders. She buried her head in her knees as Belle gave a small gasp of surprise.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." In a split second, the stranger was crouched beside her. Red felt the sheets shift as Belle moved in front of her. A soft hand grabbed hers and another gently stroked her hair.

Red couldn't get a grip on herself; she could not stop picturing Snow's pale face as it hit the ground, her dead eyes, the blood staining her white clothes. Her mind could not stop wondering what might have happened had Red chosen to take the first watch. They would both be together; they would both be happy; they would both be alive.

Belle hadn't seen it coming. One second, Red had seemed calm and collected, the next, she was sobbing as if someone had ripped her whole world from her hands.

She tried to remember what Mrs. Potts had always done and lightly lifted Red's chin with her finger. Belle wiped her tears and pulled her closer, letting the girl sob into her shoulder. "Ssh," she whispered softly as she continued to run her fingers slowly through Red's curly hair. She didn't really know what to say, no clue as to what had happened before the girl had been brought so abruptly into her life, and nowhere near close enough with her to provide any real comfort.

Finally, after a few minutes, four soft, hesitant words left Red's mouth. "They killed Snow White."

"I'm so sorry," whispered Belle in horror, the name so familiar to her ears as she recalled rumors of the wanted princess. "Were you close?" she dared to ask.

"She was my family." Red began to pull away, and Belle let her.

"I – I'm so sorry, Red. I wish there was something I could do."

Belle watched her wipe the last of her tears away slowly as she lay down on the left side of the bed, turning to lie on her side so that her face was hidden.

Belle moved to sit on the couch sadly, her heart aching with sadness for this strange and beautiful new friend, but Red's hand caught her wrist.

She didn't say anything, her eyes frenzied and desperate, and Belle hesitated briefly before lying down next to her, waiting patiently until her quiet sniffling turned into slow, deep breathing.