#goldenpuppetmaster

On the eve of the 31st of October, 1692, Belle was walking along a dirt pathway beneath a bright, full moon. There was a howling in the distance, and she walking briskly through the trees. About a mile from town, deep in the brush, resided her precious, enchanted botanical garden. Here, she stored thousands of plants like Jasmine, Eucalyptus, Myrrh, and Hemlock. Scientists had traveled terrible distances to examine Belle’s rarest plants. In fact, Miss French’s botanical garden was an award-winning sanctuary for plants as well as for those in distress.

She was careful in analyzing people. She would often choose who she helped by a show of their knitted-brows, or if they were parents worrying for children. She understood that parents were often in a particular desperation to help their children when options were drained. She also knew that they were more willing to keep her secret. On this particular evening, she spotted a figure in the darkness of the trees. At first, she was taken aback, unsure of whether to approach or retreat. A gargling sound escaped the figure, followed by a cry of pain. The figure shifted, and Belle saw a face. She took a step forward, thinking the figure was a hurt animal, but the moon’s light cast upon his full frame and Belle learned the figure was indeed a wounded man.

“Hello?” She called out in question, hesitantly.

The figure rested against a tree, no, he was gripping the tree for support. The man lifted his head in response; however, his obvious pain denied him to the ability to speak without screaming. His head turned in her direction, and her cerulean eyes fell upon scared honey brown eyes. Belle felt a sudden jolt of fire burst through her chest and a wave of emotion overpass her. Her eyes blinked back tears as she quickly composed herself.

“Are you alright?” She asked, starting toward him.    

“My leg,” he choked out, “I think it’s broken.” He could barely speak, and Belle immediately knew that he was in some inexplicable danger.

“Here, let me help you,” she offered.

“No!” She stepped back slightly; however, remained standing undeterred, “Please, they are after me…”

“Who is?” She questioned.

“The bounty hunters, I’m accused a wizard. If they see you aiding me then you will be tried as an accomplice,” he spoke desperately from fear or from the pain she could not distinguish.

“Don’t worry about those boneheads, you’re hurt and need help. I can’t very well leave you here to die and cause me a guilty conscious.” Belle stepped closer to the man, choosing to stop a mere half-step from his frame.

He appeared shocked by her response, and he did not try to bat her away when she grabbed his arm and leaned his weight on her body.

With her support, he was able to walk slowly with her down the trail.

“Where are we going?” He asked unsure of the territory, and because he was unsure of whether to trust this strange, small woman as he knew they offered rewards to turn in “criminals.”

“Shh,” she silenced him at once, and despite his better knowledge, he followed her direction without further complaint.

Within minutes, they approached Belle’s enclosed garden. She led him to the back where she had built a tiny shed with a kitchen, bathroom, and bed for the days she wished to escape town.

“We’ll be safe here,” she spoke for the first time, “give me a second and I’ll light a candle so that we can see.”

He stood in pitch darkness for what seemed like an eternity; his weight supposed against a railing he assumed was a bed. Finally, and as promised, Belle illuminated the room by placing four candles on every corner of the structure.

When she turned to see him again, it was as if he laid eyes on her, truly, for the first time. She was stunning! Her beautiful blue eyes were indescribable and piercing. He felt completely naked all at once. Her gaze was so incredibly powerful that he felt forced to look down.

“Before I help you…I must know one thing,” she began.

He was intrigued by the mystery in her tone and stated, “which is?”

“What is your name?” She questioned.

As a witch, she knew that names held great power.

Again, despite his knowledge, he trusted her, “Rumplestiltskin…and the rumors are true,” he lifted his head, and looked her square in the eye when he announced; “I am a wizard.”

“You’re a poor wizard if you’re not able to fix a simple broken leg,” she blatantly stated, which shocked Rumplestiltskin enough to cause his jaw to fall open.

He quickly cleared his throat and retorted, “Well, I’ll have you know that the Evil Queen, though most would know as, the glorious “non-magical” Town Mayor, was the cause for this, and the spell she used to break my leg takes time to decipher.”

“Hmph,” she was unconvinced, which irritated him further, “take off your pants” she instructed and his eyes nearly burst from his skull.

“What!” The exclamation was more indignation than a question.

“I have to be able to see the wound to tend to it, so I have to see your leg…not your pant leg…” she explained without judgment or harshness in her tone.

“It’ll be fine. I just need to get to my shop,” he slowly tried for the door.

Belle, knowing his strengths were wasted, waited as he toppled over in a helpless heap.

“Now are you going to let me help you?” she asked with a brow raised.

He looked at her stubbornly. What was it about this strange woman that conflicted like no other inside?

“Fine,” he accepted through gritted teeth and quickly interjected, “but I’m NOT taking off my pants.”

“Fine,” she replied, just as frustrated, “I’ll just have to cut them.”

“You do realize I just saved your life,” Belle started.

“Yes, and I was perfectly grateful until you criticized magical ability…I’ll have you know dearie that I am—”

“The most powerful wizard in all of Oz…oh, wait, that title is already taken,” she was snappy with his inflated ego.

He sighed realizing the argument was ridiculous. He did not care for titles; he was frightened, truly frightened to the core, of the bounty hunters, but mostly a sentence of death.

He didn’t respond, and Belle looked at him quietly.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“No,” he countered, “I’m sorry, I’m foolish. Thank you,” he whispered so intently that Belle felt forced to meet his gaze.

His honey brown eyes were intoxicating and she felt herself falling. She caught her herself, responded with a quick, “your welcome” and focused her energy on his leg.

“Well, it is certainly broken,” she observed.

She stood at once and returned to a work table tucked in the corner of the room. He watched her….admiring her….with a mixture of desire and shame.

She could feel his eyes on her; devilishly, she turned suddenly catching him mid-gaze. He blinked away quickly, but his cheeks were already a brilliant red.

“Here, drink this,” she handed him a small vial containing an indistinguishable purple liquid.

He sniffed the contents and scrunched his face revolted by the scent.

“Just drink it, I promise it’ll help,” she pleaded, and he unwillingly caved to her request.

Strangely, he struggled to deny her. He gulped down the foul liquid. Instantly the pain his leg was relieved. He looked down, and his leg was no longer a mangled mess. Instead, the leg appeared healed. He stood in shock to ensure he wasn’t dreaming. He was certain that his leg would take weeks to decipher the spell and repair.

He looked at her, determined to know, “but, how?”

Her lips could not contain the smile bursting at each corner; she was enjoying his delicious surprise.

“It’s magic,” her smile widened to reveal her crisp, white teeth.

He could only stare, gaping in awe, at this rare, natural beauty.