Just the Maid
Author: Olive Tree Group D: Warning: Community Watch; tea party; specialty shop
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The town felt dark and foreboding when Rumplestiltskin materialized in an alley off the main square. As the Dark One himself he should have felt right at home, but he didn’t. The very air was oppressive. He glanced around, the few people out on the streets paid him no mind, their faces cast downward, but the many signs proclaiming “Warning: Community Watch” above drawings of large eyes told him that he wasn’t unobserved.
This wasn’t a friendly place, that much was clear. But he wasn’t there to make friends. He was there for a much more important reason. Making his way to the dingy tavern where his contact had said to meet him, he pulled open the door and found himself greeted by a miasma of smoke and stale alcohol. Looking around the room he soon located a figure sitting in the corner. A black cloak covered his features, but he knew this was who he had come to see.
The man looked up as he approached, face half-shadowed.
“Dark One?” His voice was low and gravelly.
“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin replied, taking the seat opposite. He had no time for pleasantries. “Do you have it?”
“I do. Do you have the gold?”
“Here.” Rumplestiltskin threw a bag on the table. “And that is just a tiny fraction of what you will receive if what you have is real.”
“Oh, it is.” The man reached into his cloak, producing a small box which he carefully slid across the wooden tabletop.
Rumplestiltskin felt his heart beat faster as he picked it up, his hands shaking despite his best efforts to control them. Was this it? Did he finally have his hands on the means to reunite with his son? He carefully opened the lid, breath catching as time seemed to slow, his world reduced to nothing but the object in his hands.
Only for reality to come crashing back down as his eyes registered what was inside. His mouth twisted.
“This is a bean.”
“Just as you wanted.”
“I wanted a magic bean.” Rumplestiltskin plucked the object out from the satin bedding it was so carefully laid upon and held it up between a clawed finger and thumb. “This is a salad ingredient.”
“No, no…” the man stammered, his confident demeanor draining away, his voice losing its gravitas. “The man in the shop assured me it was magic.”
“The shop?” Rumplestiltskin snarled, throwing the bean to the ground and standing so quickly his chair toppled back. “You think you can buy magic beans in a shop, you halfwit?”
“It was a specialty shop,” the man protested weakly. “Full of the most powerful magical objects the world has ever seen.”
“Let me guess, the Golden Fleece? The Sword of Excalibur? You’ve been had. And you’re wasting my time.”
Rumplestiltskin snatched up his bag of gold, turning to leave.
“No, wait, please,” the man called after him. “I can find you a magic bean. I can. Leave the gold and I’ll get you one, I promise.”
“You’re lucky I’m leaving you with all your limbs,” Rumplestiltskin growled. “Never contact me again.”
With a swirl of magic he was gone.
***
Rumplestiltskin materialized in the Dark Castle, furious at himself for having allowed his hope to take over. Of course he wasn’t going to find a way back to Bae that easily. He’d been a fool to even think it could have been real.
He stormed into the great hall, barely registering the figure sitting by the fireplace.
“Rumplestiltskin, you’re back!” Belle looked up from her book, greeting him with a wide smile on her face. “How was your trip?”
Rumplestiltskin snarled, not in the mood for her cheerfulness right now. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What…?” Belle shrank back, shocked by his outburst.
“Why are you lazing around?” Sitting in my hall like you own the place?” He stormed up to her and snatched the book from her hands. “You are the help. The maid. Nothing more. Now get back to the kitchen and do your damn job!”
His voice roared, loud even to his ears. Belle stood, squaring her shoulders and turned on her heel, marching off without a word. Rumplestiltskin staunchly refused to notice the sheen in her eyes. What had he said that wasn’t true? She was the maid. And she had gotten far too comfortable in his castle lately.
Dinner that evening was served in silence. That was absolutely fine with him.
***
When Rumplestiltskin awoke the next morning, the rage of the previous day had melted away. His anger at being tricked had lessened. He still had his plan to cast the curse. His son was not lost forever. All that had happened was that he’d been denied a short cut.
Regret gnawed at him for the way he had spoken to Belle, though. He hoped she wasn’t too upset.
When she brought him breakfast that morning he searched her face for any sign of unhappiness but found it strangely blank.
“Belle?”
“Yes, sir?” she looked at him expectantly.
That gave him pause but he ploughed on. “About yesterday, I…”
“You were right,” she finished for him, returning her attention to the table and not looking at his face as she spoke. “Everything you said. You’re my master and I’m your maid. I should take my role more seriously.”
“Right.” He frowned. This conversation wasn’t going as expected. “And you’re… okay with that?” he asked carefully.
“Of course, it’s the deal I made, isn’t it?” She looked up at him with a smile. “Now, if there’s nothing else you need, may I go back to the kitchen to continue my duties?”
He nodded and watched her retreating back as she left. That had taken a strange turn, but maybe it was for the best. She was his maid, after all. Perhaps it was time for her to start acting like one. And she hadn’t seemed upset by the idea.
Yes, he decided, this was definitely for the best. This was how things were supposed to be.
His mind still reeling a bit from everything that had happened in such a short space of time, he decided to devote his morning to spinning. Now that Belle had accepted the reality of her position he was free to do so undisturbed. He could lose himself in the rhythm of the wheel without having to listen to her prattle on about books or ask inane questions about his treasures or criticize his design choices when it came to the curtains. This was perfect.
Wasn’t it?
Yes. Yes, this was exactly how it should have been. Exactly how he wanted it to be. He appreciated the silence. He definitely wasn’t straining his ears for any sounds of her moving about the castle.
Alright, maybe he was. But only because one of her duties as his maid was to be attentive to his needs. What if he wanted something to drink? Or more straw? She’d be no good to him hidden away in the kitchen in that event.
Mind made up, he paused the wheel, intending to find Belle and ask – no, tell – her to come to the great hall and work there. He had plenty of things that needed to be dusted.
He had only made his way halfway across the hall when he was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door. As far as he was aware he wasn’t expecting anyone, but his wards hadn’t alerted him to any danger so he waited for Belle to answer it for him.
A few minutes later the door to the great hall opened and she entered.
“Rumplestiltskin, you have guests.”
His mood instantly lifted as he saw the figures following behind her.
“Jefferson! Grace! What brings you here?”
“Hi, Uncle Rumple!” The young girl bounded up to him, wrapping her arms around his middle in a tight hug. “We’re here for a tea party.”
“I hope you don’t mind us just dropping in like this.” Jefferson followed at a more sedate pace. “But Grace was insistent.”
“Is that so?” Rumplestiltskin asked, looking down at the girl.
She nodded eagerly. “We haven’t had one in ages!”
“Then a tea party we shall have! Belle, bring us up a pot. And some of those delicious cakes.”
“Yes, sir.” Belle curtseyed slightly before retreating. Jefferson’s head turned sharply, his eyes darting between the two of them.
“Please, sit.” Rumplestiltskin gestured to the long table and they took their seats. It wasn’t long before Belle returned, carrying a large tray. After setting down an artfully arranged platter of cakes in the center of their little group she carefully poured three cups of tea in silence. Job done, she turned to leave.
“Wait!” Grace called out, frowning in confusion. “Aren’t you going to join us, Belle?”
Belle turned around. “I’m sorry, Grace. But as Rumplestiltskin has recently reminded me, I’m just the maid here, not a member of the household. It would be inappropriate for me to take tea with his guests.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine just this once.” Rumplestiltskin waved his hand carelessly.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly.” She smiled at him sweetly. “My place is in the kitchen.”
She turned again and left the room. Rumplestiltskin picked up a dainty piece of chocolate cake and was about to pop it into his mouth when he noticed two heads turning to pierce him with identical hard stares.
“What?”
“What did you do?” Jefferson demanded.
“What do you mean?” Rumplestiltskin shrugged, eating the cake before continuing. “You heard her. She’s the maid. Is it so unusual for my maid to go back to the kitchen where she works?”
Jefferson and Grace glanced at each other before turning back to him in unison. “Yes!”
Rumplestiltskin shifted in his seat. “I don’t see why. And I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it. Belle obviously doesn’t mind.”
Two pairs of eyebrows shot up, also in unison. He wished they would stop doing that.
“You have spent far too many years living alone, my friend.” Jefferson shook his head, reaching out to pat Rumplestiltskin’s arm. “That woman is absolutely furious with you.”
Rumplestiltskin frowned, looking from Jefferson’s earnest face to Grace’s sympathetic one.
“Oh.”
Jefferson leaned towards his daughter, addressing her in a stage whisper. “I think we may have to make this a flying visit.” She nodded seriously in response.
***
True to their word, Jefferson and Grace did not stay long but they did give him plenty to think about. Rumplestiltskin remained seated while Belle escorted his guests out before returning to clear the table. As she reached out for his cup he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.
“Belle.”
“Yes, sir?” she asked, her voice polite, her posture rigid. For the first time he noticed the tightness around her eyes.
“Please, sit.” He gestured at the chair Jefferson had recently vacated. For a second he thought she was going to refuse, but since she was so intent on obeying his every instruction she had no choice but to acquiesce. She perched in the chair, back straight, hands clasped in her lap, waiting for him to speak again.
“Here.” He waved his hand and the book she had been reading yesterday appeared on the table between them.
Belle looked at it then back at him, her face impassive. “What would you like me to do with this?”
“Well I believe reading it would be the traditional thing.”
She narrowed her eyes and he rejoiced at eliciting some sort of reaction from her. The blankness had been wearing on his nerves. He took a deep breath as he gathered up the courage to continue talking.
“I am… sorry for the way I spoke to you yesterday,” he said, his voice halting. “I was upset about something else.”
Her demeanor shifted in an instant, compassion washing over her face as she leaned towards him. “Are you alright? What happened?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”
“Did you mean it, though?” Belle asked hesitantly. “What you said? I know I’m not exactly the best maid.”
“Maybe not,” Rumplestiltskin agreed. “But I would take you over a clean castle any day.”
