#kitten!fic

“Just think about it! We get a kitten and name it Joffrey and socialize them both young so the Hound just follows it around. We could even rename your fish.”

“We are not renaming Asha.”

“But look, if we call her Cersei she could watch over them with just a hint of jealousy and adoration.” Arthur levels Merlin with a glare.

“You’re really letting your Lannister flag fly today, aren’t you?”

“What’s wrong with a little lioness pride?”

“They’re villains.”

“No they’re not. They’re just playing their part in a war against wolves.” Arthur rolls his eyes.

“And stags, and krakens, and dragons-”

“That’s not their fault! They’re holding their throne against usurpers. Robb Stark crowned himself King of the North, Stannis killed his own brother. And Theon is a complete dick!”

“Well, yeah. But none of Cersei’s kids have a right to the throne either. By right, the throne should pass to Stannis, as grouchy as he may be.”

“What! Nah-ah. All he did was hide out at Storm’s End and show up out of nowhere when Robert died. And Joffrey and Tommen have every right to the iron throne.”

“Incest.” Arthur says through a cough.

“But she’s still queen!” Merlin hastily supplies. “She’s just as royal as any king she outlives.”

“Yeah, in Dorne. Or maybe Meeren. But not Westeros. Only men can inherit the iron throne.”

“Which is so stupid.” Merlin says, distractedly wiggling his finger for a kitten.

“No kidding. Though, if you think about it, Gendry really should be the one inheriting the throne. Him or anyone older that Robert sired.”

“Gendry wasn’t raised to hold a throne. He wouldn’t make a good king.”

“You can’t know that. Not being raised at court might actually be a benefit for a kind. You see how bad all the other kings were, especially Joffrey. And he was coddled at court his whole life.”

“True. But Gendry’s a bastard anyway. He has no right to inherit any land or titles.”

“And isn’t that the kicker.” Arthur says, taking the kitten Merlin proffers to him. “If bastards could inherit, i say put Jon Snow in some seat of power. He’s kicking ass up at the Wall.” Merlin scratches the kitten’s ear as it purrs against Arthur’s chest.

“How far did you get in Dance with Dragons?”

“I’m just over halfway through, why?”

“Just wondering.” Arthur can feel a spoiler from Merlin’s silence so he changes the flow of conversation and tries to purge it from his mind.

“What about Tyrion? Do you think he’s fit to rule?”

“He’s a Lannister, of course he is.” Merlin lifts another kitten and chuckles when it bats at his nose. Its white paws patting softly against his face.

“Lannister aside, would he hold power well?”

“Hm, good question. He seems well informed. And probably the most level headed out of anyone-”

“Except Jon Snow-”

“But Jon Snow has a tendency to value honor and pride over the right choice overall. And family. Black Brothers or not, he’ll always keep his heart at Winterfell.”

“But Tyrion.” Arthur redirects.

“Yes, Tyrion.” Getting back to his favourite Imp. “I think he’s too quippy to keep any friends at court.”

“Agreed. And he’s completely self-obsessed.”

“What, no he’s not.” Merlin says, offended by proxy. “He’s always helping other people around him. Even when it would be easier for him not to.”

“Yeah,” Arthur concedes. “But his chapters are just a spinning wheel of him recounting his own problems. He’s almost worse that Arya. It’s just him killing his father, him missing his first wife, and half complaints about Shae. ‘Where do whores go?’ Seriously. If he says that one more time I’m going to send his head back to Cersei.”

Merlin chuckles and moves into the isle, Arthur following with the small, fuzzy kitten still pressed to his chest.  

“Do we need flakes or pellets?” Merlin asks, pointing with the hand not holding the black and white kitten against him.

“Both. Pellets are treats and flakes are food. We’re almost out of both.” Merlin picks two cannisters up and moves to the counter to set them down. The lady behind the counter smiles at them.

“How are you gentlemen doing today?”

“Great.” Merlin supplies cheerfully. Arthur smiles and nods his assent.

“Did you find everything alright? We just got in some organic cat treats if you were interested in trying a few.” She says, smiling across to them.

“Hm?” Arthur answers dumbly. The cashier points to the kittens still in their arms. “Oh, right. No no, we were just borrowing them” Arthur tries to explain. Merlin snickers and the lady only looks more confused.

“Well, they really seem to like you fellows. We’re always looking for good homes for the little guys. You never know who will walk in next and take them home.” Arthur can feel Merlin standing beside him. Knows that if he turns to him, he’ll be pouting with his best big-eyed puppy face he can muster. The kitten in his arms mews. Arthur sighs.

“Merlin, go and pick out collars. It looks like we’re adding two new faces to court.” Merlin does a silent cheer and hurries down the cat isle, eager to start picking out new accessories. Arthur shakes his head, looking down at the blue eyes of the kitten purring softly against him.

“I’ll be damned if he names you Joffrey. You deserve something way cooler little dude.”

“Lady.” “Hm?” Arthur looks up at the cashier.

“She’s a little lady.” She smiles, eyes going soft as she watches Arthur nuzzle against the kitten.

“A little lady, huh. Guess we’ll have to name you after Lady’s master then.” The kitten mews and Arthur smiles. “Welcome to the family, Lady Sansa.”

“You can’t name him Joffrey!”

“Why not? You named your whatever you wanted.” Arthur shakes his head in exasperation, pointing fervently down at the black and white kitten rubbing against Merlin’s leg.

“Well for one, he’s a she. And for two, Joffrey treats Sansa horribly. We can’t set that dynamic for the kittens.” Merlin takes a breath to argue but stops as he realizes Arthur is right. He puts a hand to his mouth and brainstorms.”

“What about Jamie?”

“She’s still a girl.”

“But she doesn’t feel like a Cersei.” Merlin says in frustration.

“There’s always Myrcella.” Arthur tries.

“But she’s over in Dorne. And missing an ear.”

“Are you discounting a name because she doesn’t have both ears?” Arthur asks with a small laugh.

“No. I’m discounting it because she’s a little girl.”

“Technically so is Daenerys.”

“She’s not a-” “Sixteen, Merlin. Danny is sixteen in the last book.”

“Oh.” He says in mild disgust. “God, you’re right.” After a moment of consideration, Merlin shakes his head. “George R. R. Martin is fucked up.”

“As all the ladies is Westeros will atest.” Arthur says in agreement. “Hey, what about Arya? She’s a great character.”

“But too cliche.” Merlin says, shaking his head. “Everyone loves Arya already. She doesn’t need the representation.”

“The kitten representation?” Arthur laughs.

“And she’s still a little girl too.” Merlin says as a cover. “So there’s that.”

“True. Too bad too. She even used to go by the name Cat of the Canals.” Arthur hums, loving the way Merlin’s nose crinkles up with irritation.

“Damn him and his disgustingly underaged girls.”

“And boys. There’s still Bran and Rickon.”

“Is there still Rickon? I don’t even remember where he is.”

“Isn’t he with Bran?” Arthur asks, not quite sure if he remembers either.

“No, that’s just the two green kids and Hondor. And Summer.”

“Huh. You’re right. So where is-”

“I have no idea.” Merlin says frowning. “We’ll have to google it later. Well,” He says, catching himself. “I can google it later. You can’t google anything until you finish the book.”

“But it’s so long.” Arthur complains. They have this conversation a lot. Merlin is a much quicker reader than Arthur, so he finished it shortly after purchasing it. It’s been weeks now and Arthur is still plodding along at an excruciating pace. Merlin had even started rereading his copy to try to get Arthur to pick up his pace. It was only sort of working.

“What about Nymeria?” Arthur chimes suddenly. “That doubles as a bastard princess of Dorne and a badass direwolf. And neither of them are under age.”

“Hm.” Merlin considers. “But is that too close to a Stark reference? We already have on Stark in the house.”

“Two, if you count your car.”

“Ned was named way before I started Game of Thrones. So it is not my fault he shares a name with Eddard.” Merlin says defensively. Arthur raises his hands.

“You have my every approval, I’m all for House Stark. It’s you and your Lannister alliance that makes you a turncloak.”

“Not a turncloak!” Merlin says, his voice squeaking just a bit as he rushes to defend himself.

“Alright, alright. No Reek for you.” Arthur says with a chuckle. Merlin’s nose scrunches.

“Ugh, that bastard. Don’t even get me started on his pitiful redemption arc. That fuckhead.”

“Woah, tell me how you really feel Merlin.”

“Ugh. I can’t even.” Merlin bends down to wiggle a string for the yet unnamed kitten. She bats at the string, raising up on her hind legs to chase it. Arthur feels a tickle at his nose and is caught off guard with a giant sneeze rips through him. Merlin jumps and Sansa flees from here she was sleeping on the couch. Wiping his eye, Arthur looks down to the kitten at his toes. She has puffed up her hair into an eccentric ball of fur. When Arthur reaches for her, she hisses. Merlin laughs and runs a calming hand down her back.

“Shh, it’s okay girl. Don’t let that big man scare you.” After a few pets she starts purring under Merlin’s hand again and accepts Arthur’s apologetic pets. Merlin chuckles softly beside him. Arthur looks over, confused.

“I think I’m figured out her name.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Brienne.” He pets down her back and scratches just before her tail, watching her raise her tail. “She’s our little bear, all dressed up in warrior clothes.”

“Hm.” Arthur considers. “Brienne. That might actually work.” Sansa pokes her head out from behind her hiding spot near the couch. Seeing the affection being doled out on Brienne, she totters over for her share, her orange and white tail high in the air. “Any hey,” Arthur continues. “We even have out very own Sansa for her to look after. Catelyn would be proud.”

Merlin’s eyes crinkle up with a smile. “Perfect.” He says, rubbing both kittens behind the ears. Arthur nods, running a hand under Sansa’s purring chin.

From her spot on the bookcase, Asha blows bubbles of disgust.

V.

After a long and difficult journey, Rumpelstiltskin was finally back in Storybrooke… and he was miserable. Yes, he had his magic back and he was no longer in danger of dying of heart failure every minute of every day, but Belle was seeing someone else. He’d come back with every intention of talking to her honestly, of explaining why he needed the hat and what was going on with his heart and soul. She might still hate him after he explained – she would probably hate him – but at least she would have all of the facts. He’d expected…well, some sort of response. They were married after all – they were True Love!

Instead, he found her in the arms of another man.

It hurt, deep in his black heart, but he knew he deserved the pain. Even as the increasingly louder voice of his curse murmured about betrayal and revenge, his unshakable belief that the pain was justified kept him from taking action against her. Instead, he found himself rooming with two fickle sorceresses in a small cabin in the woods. Ursula wasn’t so bad – he’d gotten used to her quirks in the world without magic, though he was glad she hadn’t been able to bring any of her fish with her to Storybrooke -  but Cruella…

Ugh.

At least there was only so much alcohol in Storybrooke. And most of it was not at his cabin.

Still, he was a recluse at heart and their presence grated on his nerves when they decided to bring their partying and reminiscing home with them and he found himself taking long walks through the woods to calm his fevered and desperate mind. (Sometimes he wondered how they would react if they knew what terrible condition he was in, but he quickly dismissed the thought. They wouldn’t care unless he hit the tipping point. Then the unleashed Dark One would probably kill them.) The simple act of walking without a cane and without the familiar pain of his crippled leg hounding every step was soothing, as was the silence and isolation which stood in stark contrast to his life in the outside world. It wasn’t as good as spinning, but there was no way he was going to break into his - into Belle’s - house just to get his wheel. Not like it would do much good at this point, anyway. The best he could hope for was maybe a few extra days if he stayed calm and happy enough to slow the darkness consuming his heart, and he was positive that any sense of calm was fundamentally impossible in his current situation.

It was during one of his night time wanderings that he found himself meandering towards the road without a set goal in mind, unworried about being interrupted, when something squeaked in the undergrowth.

He didn’t stop. It was probably just nature taking its course.

Another squeak.

He paused. The creature sounded distressed.

Then a low, crying wail, more whine than squeak, arrested his progress completely.

The Dark One let out a grumbling sigh, but turned back and swept the concealing bush aside with a wave of his hand and magic. Abruptly, the noise stopped.

He found himself looking into the wide, frightened eyes of a very small, very scared kitten. It was skinny, dirty, and covered in so much dirt and leaves that he couldn’t even make out the color of its fur. One tiny paw was trapped in the crevasse between a tree root and a mostly-buried rock and there was blood matting the fur around the ankle where it was stuck. There was no sign of a mother cat or any siblings. Rumpelstiltskin stared at it for a moment, torn. He was the Dark One. He didn’t do charity and he certainly didn’t feel sympathy for tiny fluffy animals in distress. But he was also Rumpelstiltskin and he actually liked animals, in a way he’d never really connected to humans. They had simple emotions and no concept of prejudice or judgment. They also seemed to instinctively like him (had since he was a child), though he would never understand why.

The kitten looked up at him, blinked big blue eyes and let out a quiet, miserable: “Mew?”

What was left of his heart melted. The kitten’s big blue eyes reminded him of Belle when she was disappointed in his decisions. He could almost hear her voice.

You wouldn’t leave an innocent kitten out here all alone, would you Rumple?

No, he wouldn’t.

His shoulders slumped and he let out a defeated sigh. Honestly, there had never been a question about his course of action.

With a wave of his hand, the rock shifted and the kitten was free. It stumbled out of the brush, shocked at the sudden release, and looked at him with wide eyes, obviously not comprehending. But when it tried to flee, it let out a pitiful squeak and stumbled. Fresh blood oozed from under the matted fur on its injured paw.

Rumple glanced in both directions and did a magical sweep of the nearby landscape to make sure no one would see him, then crouched down and met the tiny animal’s gaze. It probably wouldn’t even want his help, but he stretched out an empty hand, palm up, as harmlessly as he knew how. (His expression was one that only children, pets, and Belle had seen in a very, very long time.)

“Hello, dearie.” He murmured gently, not moving.

It blinked at him, tail twitching in agitation, then leaned forward and delicately sniffed the tips of his fingers. He waited until it shyly brushed its cheek against one finger before gently scratching its chin and picking it up. It was so small and malnourished that it easily fit in one hand.

It stiffened and hissed when he reached for the injured leg, but a brush of his finger numbed the pain and a discrete twitch of his hand healed the wound entirely.

The kitten mewed again in surprise and he let out a rusty chuckle and put it down. Its first few steps were cautious, expecting pain, but in mere minutes, the small animal was scampering about in kittenish joy.

He watched it testing out the newly healed leg for a moment, the sight of such innocence soothing something in his soul that he hadn’t realized was tense, and then he turned to walk away, expecting the kitten to go back where it came from – to its owner or its mother.

He was barely four steps away when a slight weight rammed head first into his good ankle, and he stared down in surprise to find the little beast attached to him, all four legs spread wide with claws sunk deep into the leg of his pants and mouth vigorously ‘killing’ the fabric.

“You’re a bit small to be hunting me, dearie.” He snorted.

With a wave of his hand, it found itself back on the path, stumbling and disoriented.

This time, he only made it two steps before the little monster was halfway up his calf and still climbing. He could feel the tiny pinpricks of claws nearing his waist and he reached down to detach it and lift it to eye level.

“Go home.”  He growled, using his best ‘scary dark one’ voice.

The kitten watched his mouth move curiously without any apparent fear of his tone or expression, twitched an ear, then reached out and patted his nose with one soft, tiny paw.

He froze.

It blinked and cocked its head.

For the first time, he really registered how skinny it was, more than could be explained by a few days in the woods, how dirty, and how alone…

Its tiny ribs were clearly visible through its fur.

…He tried not to remember what it had felt like to be starving, alone, and abandoned in an unfamiliar world.

Taking his lack of movement as permission (or an opportunity), it squirmed out of his loose grip and climbed its way down his arm, aiming for his shoulder.

It was young and adaptable with spirit and curiosity, he reminded himself. It would be fine. It was really no business of his where this random cat had come from. Even if it was alone, it would be happy in the woods – cats were solitary creatures that excelled at hunting. Besides, he was the Dark One. He couldn’t have a kitten, especially not in his current fragile state of health.

Even if its eyes did remind him of Belle.

Finally reaching his shoulder, the tiny, dirty animal snuggled up against his neck, batting at strands of his hair that dangled too close. He tensed, unused to physical contact, but it just rubbed its head against his cheek and started purring.

He could feel the gentle vibration all the way down to his bones and he stayed perfectly still as soft fur brushed against his skin. At the tiny creature’s innocent acceptance, something inside his chest softened. He reached up and ran a gentle finger over its small head.

Well, damn. He couldn’t just leave it out here.

Maybe Belle would want a cat.

He set off for the cabin, passenger in tow.

Ursula and Cruella were never going to believe this.

The kitten’s reception went as well as could be expected.

Asleep when he returned, and hungover the morning after, it took Cruella and Ursula almost a full day to even notice the tiny interloper. By then, Rumple had cleaned it up (manually, not magically) and found that beneath the mud, blood, and leaves was a long-haired pale grey female kitten with faint tabby stripes on her back, and white markings on her nose, chest, stomach, front paws, tip of the tail, and over both eyebrows. He’d entertained a brief, fleeting hope before her bath that she would be black – a proper menacing sorcerer’s familiar in form if not function, but she was possibly the least intimidating animal he’d ever seen…and not just because she was tiny and fuzzy. The white splotches on her face gave her an eternally quizzical look that he could already tell would follow her into adulthood. She was adorable.

Belle would have loved her.

He used magic to ‘acquire’ the necessary supplies from town, but the kitten didn’t seem interested in any of the toys or the bed he got for her. She’d apparently adopted him as her protector and refused to leave his side.  Even if he set her on the floor and walked away, he couldn’t get two steps without feeling the now-familiar pinpricks of her claws at his ankle. He didn’t try very hard to convince her to leave him alone – she quickly became a fixture either in his pocket or on his shoulder while he was in the cabin and roaming the building while he was out.

When Cruella and Maleficent noticed her for the first time, sitting on his shoulder and alternately batting at and chewing on the tips of his hair, they stared in dumbfounded silence and then cracked up with hysterical laughter.

Rumple rolled his eyes and ignored them.

However, when he left the kitten behind for half an hour to complete some business in town, and returned to find Cruella trying to sweet talk the little animal off the roof after her control abilities somehow got it up there and then failed once her target was out of reach, he read her the riot act.

He was surprised the resulting explosion of dark magic didn’t draw every hero in Storybrooke to his front door.

“Let me be perfectly clear, dearie.” He growled, voice low. “You will not touch the cat, physically or magically. It is NOT your concern.”

Pinned against the side of the cabin by his magic, Cruella shifted uncomfortably, trying not to wince as the bruises she’d gained when Rumple threw her away from the beast with his magic brushed against the rough wood. Apparently, he’d forgotten that most humans weren’t as durable as the Dark One. Or he didn’t care.

“Darling…”

“Are we clear, Cruella?”

No giggle, no wordplay, no sarcasm, no dealing…he was serious. Cruella swallowed.

“Of course.”

“Good.”

She fell to the ground, hissing as her bruises complained, but didn’t dare protest with him in such a dangerous mood. She didn’t understand what had set him off…it was just an animal. She used them in her magic all the time.

Then she looked up and noticed the way the tiny kitten was cradled protectively against his chest, the gentle grip of his hands at odds with the fire in his eyes and the snarl in his voice. The way it was watching the exchange with wide eyes but apparently not afraid of him despite the truly fearsome aura he was giving off. Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t even considering taking his anger out on the furball despite what an easy target it made.

“You care about the beast!” She gaped.

He glowered. “Go help Ursula with Regina. Now.”

Needless to say, he didn’t leave the kitten alone with her again. Naturally, this meant it stayed by his side, in his pocket or on his shoulder, at all times. Even when he went into town.

When Maleficent joined their numbers, she acknowledged the kitten with a raised eyebrow, but when it didn’t turn out to have any magical properties, she ignored it.

Regina gawked at it until Rumple raised a mocking eyebrow at her, and then she scowled and looked away, refusing to be fazed. He got some perverse pleasure out of letting it climb on his shoulders, or stroking its head and watching Regina out of the corner of his eye as she tried and failed to make sense of him and got more and more irate every time. He was waiting for her to storm up to him and demand to know what was going on but she didn’t reach that point before Maleficent put the town under her sleeping spell, and by then it was too late.

When Rumple received the summons from Belle, he immediately dropped everything and left. For the first time, he even forgot the kitten, leaving her sitting on the table next to The Book (with Isaac eyeing her with an expression that obviously said he wanted to ask, but was afraid he wouldn’t like the answer)…but she didn’t forget him. While he was vanishing, she leapt into his smoke and managed to catch his coat with her claws, intending to pull herself up to his shoulder as she’d done many, many times.

As far as the kitten was concerned, the strange darkness-human belonged to her. She had been lost in the dark and the cold, hungry and scared when he found her and saved her. He’d made her warm and given her food, let her cuddle up to him and take comfort in his presence. He was her protector, her companion, and everything she’d ever wanted (even if she didn’t truly know what ‘want’ meant and ‘ever’ was maybe a few weeks of memory). To her young mind, he was the best person ever and she was never going to leave his side.

…But kittens also have limited attention spans and a weakness for shiny, sparkly items. When Rumpelstiltskin arrived at the wishing well to find Belle calling his name, the kitten gave up trying to climb his back and dropped to the grass behind him. Ignorant to the emotional reunion going on overhead, she lashed her tail, crouching to spring up his leg…then stopped.

There was something shiny over there.

She slunk down into a low crouch and glided over the ground away from her person, watching the shiny thing move with wide eyes. It was sticking out from behind a tree on the other side of the clearing and moving back and forth…but not running away, even though she was stalking it. Maybe it was scared. Maybe it was prey!

(She didn’t notice in the background as the tearful reunion between her person and the strange human shifted in tone.)

Mere feet away from her prey, she crouched low, wiggling her hind end and extending her claws in excitement. She was going to catch it! She was a hunter!

Without warning, she lunged forward, dashing the last three feet and sinking her teeth and claws into her target.

Which turned out to be the reflection glinting off the high heeled shoe of Regina Mills. Who abruptly had a set of very sharp kitten fangs digging into her ankle and claws digging into her calf.

“Sunuva-!”

Rumpelstiltskin reeled back almost comically in surprise as a sudden string of unexpected curses and invectives fell from Belle’s mouth. He literally stumbled back and opened his mouth to inquire if she was alright, but it only took him half a second to realize the actual source of the invectives – the loud source – was elsewhere.

He vanished in a plume of red smoke and appeared behind Regina just as she threw her hands out for balance, inadvertently waving a pulsing bright red heart in his face, and kicked out at something on the ground.

Something that yowled in pain.

Instant understanding filled him, followed by pure fury.

He snatched the heart out of her loose grip before she even realized he was there, and threw her across the clearing with a wave of his arm. She hit the ground hard but managed to scramble upright, panic overriding the pain in her ankle. Before she could retaliate or even reach her feet, Rumpelstiltskin lashed out with his magic in the same move he’d used just the other day with Cruella, and the sorceress found herself pinned against the nearest tree-trunk with so much force that she was straining to breathe. Her eyes were wide and terrified as she looked at his twisted, angry expression.

“Regina.” He snarled.

Before she could respond (not that she knew what to say, what protest could possibly save her life), the sound of running footsteps interrupted them.

“Rumple?” Belle came around the tree, expression anxious and puzzled. “What’s going on-?” She stopped dead at the sight in front of her, of Regina very close to being crushed to death and the Dark One obviously willing to push her over the edge, and her eyes widened. “Regina-? Rumpelstiltskin, put her down!”

“She took your heart!”

“What?”

“I needed leverage-!“ Regina finally managed to wheeze out, but the looks she got were far from sympathetic.

“So you took my heart?!” Belle’s horror and disgust finally seemed to hit a chord in Regina and she glanced down and to the side, faint shame on her face.

The Dark One snarled and that seemed to snap Belle back to the immediate danger of the situation. She stepped in front of him and gave him a no-nonsense glower. “Put her down, Rumple.” She ordered, tone firm.

“But-.”

“Now.”

Irritably, he complied, dropping the queen none-too-gently to the ground where she landed on her knees and scrambled upright, holding her hands in guard position and watching them warily. Instead of talking, (she rightly guessed that he was ready to attack her at the slightest misstep, despite Belle’s restraining presence), she backed away until she was clear on the other side of the clearing. Then she vanished in a plume of violet smoke, no doubt to regroup.

Rumpelstiltskin shot her vanishing figure a vicious glare, but he was more interested in the heart cradled protectively in his hands. For a moment, he looked down at it and felt his own heart shatter. Belle hadn’t done any of this of her own free will. Everything she had said and felt had been Regina’s doing. She probably hadn’t even wanted to summon him.

“Rumple?” His (ex?) wife’s small hand touched his arm tentatively and he looked into her worried eyes.

“Hold on, Sweetheart.” He smiled, small and strained. “This will only take a moment.” As gently as possible, he put one hand on her unresisting shoulder and used the other to firmly (but gently. Always gently) push her heart back into place. She gasped in sudden disorientation, stumbling at the return of sensation, and he immediately let go, pulling away and taking several large paces back. He doubted she would want to be anywhere near him when she realized what Regina had forced her to do.

“Mrow?”

Startled at the familiar sound, he looked down, realizing the kitten was not in either of its customary spots in his coat. After a moment of searching for the source of the call, he found her huddled at the base of a tree, watching the humans with wide eyes and trembling like a leaf. When she noticed him looking at her, she uncurled from her tight, terrified position and crept towards him, limping noticeably.

Then he remembered…Regina had kicked something before he pushed her away.

Only the memory of Belle’s scolding kept him from going after his former student again.

He purposely did not look at his True Love as he bent down and gently picked up the kitten, passing a magical scan over her body and finding three bruised ribs and a mild concussion. Thankfully, Regina hadn’t managed to hit the cat that hard…but her actions were still inexcusable. The next pass of his hand healed the injuries completely and the kitten relaxed in his hands. He stroked a thumb lightly over her head and then set her on his shoulder where she curled against his neck, hiding as much as possible in his hair and collar.

Then he did what he’d been dreading: he looked back at Belle.

She was watching him with her head cocked and a strange curl to her lips. Had he not known she was probably ready to toss him out of Storybrooke all over again, he might have thought she was smiling.

“I…apologize for this, dearie.” He said, voice thick with regret. If he’d known… “I wasn’t aware you were not in control. I wouldn’t have…” He wouldn’t have forced her to listen to his rambling, nor would he have forced her to bear his kiss had he known she didn’t want it. He swallowed and stepped away, wanting nothing so much as to crawl in a hole and wallow in his misery.

“Apologize for what?” She didn’t sound upset…

“For forcing you.” He refused to meet her eyes, instead staring at the tree line where Regina had disappeared. One hand came up to pet the kitten; a recently acquired nervous gesture that the little animal took full advantage of by rubbing her head against his hand. “I’ll not burden you with my presence any longer.”

“Wait.”

He froze in the act of waving his arm, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Belle’s expression still wasn’t angry or disgusted…just sort of sad.

“Were you telling the truth?” Her voice cracked. “Are you really…dying?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He sighed and slumped. “Everything I said was true.”

She stepped around in front of him, so close that he was forced to meet her eyes.

“My words were my own, Rumple. I didn’t know Regina had my heart, but it doesn’t matter. I meant everything I said.” At her sincerity, a fission of hope returned to Rumpelstiltskin. Tentatively, he reached out, but left his hand hovering in front of her shoulder, uncertain, until she reached up and clasped it in her own hand, winding their fingers together until he had no hope of escape. “…At least, I was in control up until she started cursing.”

He let out a broken chuckle, mirrored by a faint smile on her face.

“What happened? Do you know?” She asked.

“Oh, I’d imagine it had to do with this little rascal.” He gestured at the kitten on his shoulder, and frowned. “Regina kicked her.”

Belle looked between him and the kitten, nonplussed, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. She must have noticed his sheepishness because her smile grew. The kitten was quite obviously his, if only because he wasn’t protesting its presence on his shoulder. He didn’t even seem to notice that it was now chewing on a strand of his hair.

Her free hand came up to his shoulder and he held still as she extended her fingertips to the kitten, making quiet cooing noises. It watched her with wide eyes, sniffed her fingers cautiously, and then curled back shyly against Rumple’s neck, never letting go of his hair.

“…What’s its name?”

“…She’s a cat. She doesn’t have a name.” He grumbled, but the protest lacked teeth. Honestly, he just hadn’t thought of one yet. Names held power, after all, and he wanted something truly suitable.

Belle shot him a vaguely admonitory look, and then turned a soft expression on the kitten.

“She’s scared…”

“Well, she did just win a fight against the evil queen.” He quipped nervously, drawing a startled laugh from his wife.

“Maybe…” She hesitated, eyeing him with uncertainty, then took a deep breath and gripped his hand even tighter (as if he’d run away now). “She might be happier somewhere quieter. Would you like to move…this…to the pawnshop? We can…talk there.”

He shifted, not sure if he should be happy or uncertain. He didn’t know what she wanted to talk about…but there was a lot that they needed to discuss. It didn’t matter what it was – Belle was here and she wanted to be with him. He’d follow her to the ends of the earth and back if she wanted.

“I’d like that.”

Instead of using magic, he followed her on foot when she turned to leave. She never let go of his hand and he never tried to get away.

The kitten settled against his neck, chewing contentedly, and started to purr.