#magicalgiven

He reminded himself that Bae had been clear about his distaste for a big wedding, and Emma as well. As far as they both were concerned they were better off with a simple civil ceremony and a honeymoon in Florida. But Emma’s parents insisted that their only child, their little princess, marry in style, so something grander was decided upon. He had to admit he hadn’t put up much of a fight. He did not have a lot in common with the Nolans- no matter how much David insisted on treating him like best mates whenever they met- but he did agree with them on the wedding. Bae was his only son and he wished to make a fuss about his wedding as well.

So he couldn’t really say no when Bae called to ask him to please take his place at a catering appointment in Portland. He had been summoned to a surprised meeting with a client that was a rather big to-do at his job. He did something related to web design that he couldn’t for the life of him understand, but it allowed him to work from home most of the time and stay in Storybrooke, so he was glad to be of assistance if he needed it.

He arrived at the catering business with a bit of time to spare, introducing himself and letting the person checking the appointment know he was waiting for someone. Not Miss Swan, because apparently she also had urgent business that could not be delayed- she did work in law enforcement, so there was a small chance she wasn’t lying to get out of “boring wedding stuff” as she kept calling it right in front of her mother and likely to annoy her. He had been told she would send Miss Lucas as a replacement, since she knew her way around a menu. He did not look forward to it, though perhaps he could amuse himself with trying to figure out how to raise the subject of the diner’s rent being due next week over talk of canapes. 

“Mr Gold, you got here before me!”

He turned around, a part of him recognising instantly that charming Australian lilt. He looked slightly down to find Miss Belle French, the town’s librarian as of three years. She was dressed, as always, rather charmingly, and looked less out of place in the city than in their small town. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long. The original plan was for Ruby to fill in for Emma, but Granny’s arthritis started acting up so she had to stay and help at the diner. Oh, please don’t tell Granny I told you that or she’ll never forgive me.”

He recalled she was an old friend of Miss Swan’s, from before she came back to Storybrooke, back when she was living in New York as a bit of a rebellion against her parents, doing bounty hunting work of all things. They had been roommates while Miss French went to NYU for her master’s in Library Science and worked at an antique bookstore. He knew only because he knew the bookstore and thought it smart to hold onto that piece of information. Book restoration and re-binding wasn’t his specialty, so it was nice to know of someone he could consult with if the need ever arose.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Miss French. I will even abstain of using the information against Granny the next time she tries to overcharge me for coffee. I hope you understand what a sacrifice that is.”

She laughed and he tried to pretend he didn’t feel overly smug about it, turning instead to open the door for her.

“Oh, Mr Gold, I see your fianceé is here! Lovely to meet the future Mrs Gold.”

He fumbled, his brain too caught up in what had just been said to register the small step on his way. He righted himself just as Miss French stammered a surprised denial.

“Oh, right, I apologise for assuming you would change your name after marriage, Miss Swan. Please, follow me.”

The man, a strongly-accented Frenchman, if his ears did not deceive him, swept past them and deeper into the shop, forcing them both to follow. The back was a rather nice dining area, small but with lots of windows to let in natural light. It was right next to the kitchen, but it still felt private and quiet. They were ushered into a table already prepared for them and served a sample of entrées along with a card detailing the ingredients of each one.

“Well, I suppose it’s an obvious mistake to make, and it would be unkind to correct him, he’d be mortified. I hope you don’t mind playing the would-be groom for a day, Mr Gold. At least we get some nice food out of it.”

“It’ll make a nice change from Granny’s overpriced lasagna.”

She slapped him gently on the arm, trying to conceal her smile, and he was surprised at how nice the gesture felt. Not many people touched him, and less with that sort of uncomplicated ease. He was glad that Miss French felt comfortable around him.

“So, what type of food does Miss Swan enjoy?”

“You should really begin calling her Emma, you know. And me Belle, none of that Miss French nonsense. This is not some nineteenth century pretend engagement, you know. I hope we can consider ourselves a modern pretend couple.” Miss French- Belle- smiled at him over the rim of her water glass before taking a sip. “As for Emma, she likes bar food. If it was up to her we’d serve peanuts and fries for entrées and burgers as the main course. I understand her parents talked her out of it, so perhaps nothing very fancy, but tasteful at the same time.”

He had given up on the day that morning, thinking it would be spent trying to make awkward conversation with a confrontational Miss Lucas, glaring daggers at him from across a rather small table because he dared charge rent for the property her grandmother rented from him. Instead he found himself discussing food and wine with someone he was infinitely more fond of and could not even muster enough grumpiness later in the evening to snark at Bae when he called later at night to thank him for subbing for him.

“It’ll be the last time, pops, I swear.”

.

The week after the catering appointment Bae called him in a panic to beg him to go for him to the florist appointment, also in Portland. He swallowed a few choice words learned in his youth in Glasgow, closed his shop and drove to the address Bae texted him. He was somewhat less surprised than before to find Miss French there, sitting on a bench outside the shop and reading a book. Something niggled at the back of his head but when he greeted her and they got to explain their presence he realised it made a bit more sense. Miss Swan’s job was a bit emergency-heavy and Miss French was the daughter of a florist, so it made sense to send her as a replacement.

She knew her stuff, as he could tell almost as soon as they set foot into the shop, to the delight of the old, red-haired florist that handled their appointment. The librarian engaged her in a rather interesting discussion on the meaning of flowers and the importance of harmonious scents, something he had never considered before. They spent a rather lovely hour touring the greenhouse and browsing through the catalogues, with Miss French- “Honestly, Arran, it’s Belle, you agreed!”- making a game out of it, picking something and having him guess whether it was a choice for Miss Swan’s wedding or a reflection of personal taste. He learned from it that Belle liked blue as much as her outfits had already implied and that she loved hydrangeas, thought them elegant but soft.

“Too soft for Emma. She likes bold colours and is not fond of traditional flowers, so I was thinking perhaps something with bougainvilleas? They have such lovely deep pink colour, almost red. What do you think?”

It was a bit intoxicating, the smell of the flowers, the heat of the shop and Belle French talking about flowers with a passion that stirred something in him that had nothing to do with centerpieces or boutonnieres. It wasn’t until they were out of it, inhaling the crisp evening Portland air, that he realised the florist had mistaken them for the engaged couple as well, and neither of them had made any effort to correct her. Well, that would’ve been rude, he reasoned. No need to put the old woman in the spot.

.

The morning of the cake-tasting appointment he had woken up with the knowledge that he was likely to get a “surprise” call from Bae begging him to “fill in” for him at the cake shop, and he could not even bring himself to feel angry about it. The wedding was, after all, a rather rushed affair, seeing as to how it was not what either the bride or groom had planned for, so allowances had to be made for the couple. That or they both were trying to punish their parents for pushing on them a grander event than the one they had wanted in the first place.

On his way out of town he passed by the library, insisting he would drive Miss French who was, surprisingly, filling in for Miss Swan again. She didn’t seem to mind yet another disruption into her schedule.

“I love Storybrooke, but I don’t mind admitting that it’s nice to go out to a big city every now and then.”

The bakery that would make the cake- one of the few that would accommodate the short notice of the order placement- was located in Bangor, which seemed to merge big-city vibes with small-town charm. The bakery itself was lovely, with a white and beige storefront and a myriad of colourful treats on display. It smelled strongly of vanilla and chocolate inside, and there was a dreamy, romantic sort of quality to the decoration. They were ushered into a warm, cosy room where they spent the next hour and a half tasting different cakes, one better than the next.

“Emma is a bit chocolate obsessed, so I’m leaning towards the chocolate champagne one. It was delicious.”

He tried not to replay in his mind the way she had moaned at the first taste of that one, eyes closing in absolute bliss.

“I still can’t believe that little urchin had me fill in for him again, so I’m not even considering his tastes. My vote is for the strawberry shortcake.”

Belle frowned, idly liking some frosting from her fork. His left hand tightened around the napkin on his lap.

“Isn’t Bae allergic to strawberries?”

“Exactly.”

The librarian laughed, which he was rather surprised by. Very few shared his rather dark sense of humour, most found the content and his delivery of it rather off-putting. He tried not to preen at the idea. 

“Might want to hold on in killing him until after the wedding. After all, we have invested quite a few hours into the preparation already. Feels more like our wedding, in a way.”

He choked on a rather lovely piece of red velvet cheesecake, fumbling for his glass of water to try and wash it down. He realised the danger he was in, all of a sudden, perhaps too late. His crush had been safe when he had not had much of a chance to interact with the librarian and get to know her. But spending entire days with her had changed things, giving his feelings depth that he did not entirely appreciate. His instinct of self-preservation was urging him to do something. Say something mean or cutting, or close himself off. Perhaps invent some business emergency and leave, letting Belle figure out on her own how to get back to town. If she was cross with him, if she hated him, if she decided to keep his distance, he would be safe.

But, surprisingly, he found that he was rather tired of feeling safe, and of pushing people away.

.

“You know, we didn’t do half-bad in the end, all things considered.”

He turned around, tearing his eyes away from his son and his new wife trying to waltz. He was sure someone was filming it, anyway, and he’d get to tease Bae about it later. Belle looked absolutely stunning in a Halston dress, an architectural number in navy blue with a champagne-coloured lining that peeped from the folds of the skirts and a bit of a train in the back, the hem landing above the knee at the front and below it at the back. It was a far cry from what most women were wearing, in particular the friends of the mother of the bride, but it was exactly what he had expected from her: bold, flirty, and the slightest bit of out place in a small town, without really seeming to realise. Her lips were a lovely deep, dark red and smiling wide. At him, of all people.

“Yes. The flowers do look splendid, Miss French. You have quite an eye for it.”

She hooked her arm through his, looking admonishingly up at him.

“It’s Belle. Unless you’ve decided I cannot call you Arran anymore.”

If he were stronger, he would politely insist on calling her Miss French, thus gently reestablishing their more formal dynamic. It would be safer, certainly. But he found himself unable to muster the energy for it. It was a happy day, and he was ecstatic as the father of the groom should be. Seemed like the occasion to do what he wanted and not necessarily what he thought was best. Indulge a bit.

“Belle, then. I rather like how you pronounce my name, seems a shame to make you stop.”

Her eyes widened, and so did her smile. He tried to remember how many glasses of champagne he had drunk, but could not recall. He had indulged there too, but that was only because he had been sitting next to David Nolan for dinner and he had kept trying to talk to him about sports. He had made the mistake of trying to discuss the UEFA Super Cup, but that had only led to ten minutes of David Nolan referring to football as soccer and displaying no understanding of the rules of the game.

“So, how’s the proud father? Was it all you hoped it would be?”

He looked around. The venue was lovely, a manor outside Storybrooke that was used exclusively for events like weddings and such, with extensive gardens and lovely, broad balconies. The Nolans had secured the place, seemed they knew the owner and had been able to pull some strings. It was decorated a bit like an enchanted forest, in shades of silver, gold and bold touches of bright pink and dark blue.

“Well, Bae remembered his lines and didn’t step on Miss Swan’s train at any point so the wedding has exceeded my wildest expectations.”

He glanced again towards his son, dancing something a bit more lively with Emma and looking infinitely more at ease doing so. They truly suited each other, and he was glad of that. Glad that Bae would know, hopefully, nothing but love in his family he meant to build for himself.

“It’s a lovely song. Would you care to dance?”

A tricky question, since the answer was both a resounding no and a desperate yes, but he merely pointed towards his cane as a way out. It seemed he was not the only one emboldened by drink, however, if Belle’s flashing eyes and red cheeks were anything to go by.

“Oh, come on, just some gentle swaying. We could go outside, if you don’t wish others to see. It’s a bit stuffy in here anyway.”

There was no way for him to deny her, nor did he wish to anymore. He let her lead him out, into one of the terrace-like balconies attached to the ballroom, and wrapped her arms around his neck, prompting his own to wrap around her waist. They soon fell into a slow, easy rhythm, lazy and yet strangely exhilarating. He felt loose and tightly-wound at the same time, and could not decide whether he liked the feeling or not.

“It really is a lovely wedding, by the way.”

“Yes, I think we did rather well, all things considered. Certainly more than what Bae deserved, taking into account how little he worked for it.”

She tugged on his hair, he assumed as a way to chastise him. It had rather the opposite result, sending a jolt of fizzy pleasure up and down his spine.

“You rather enjoyed it, admit it. And I did too. In a way it’s sad that the wedding has happened and our outings are at an end.”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, teeth worrying her lower lip the slightest bit. He got the feeling that there was something he was not seeing or sensing, some signal he was not quite deciphering. But it was getting rather difficult to think, with the champagne in his veins, and the feel of Belle in his arms and the way she smelt like orange blossom. 

“You look lovely, by the way.” He realised he hadn’t told her, and it seemed like a major oversight. “Stunning, really. Gorgeous. Too good to be wasting your time out on the balcony with me.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? When had he lost complete control of his bleeding mouth?

“Don’t say that. I like spending time with you. A lot.” She bit her lip again and he wondered if his blood pressure could take it. “Actually, I was hoping we could spend more time together, if you wished it.”

There was no mistaking the flirty turn of her lips, or the coyness dancing in her eyes, even to an expert in self-denial such as him. He tried to form words to reply to her, something along the lines of “Yes, please” or “Is it tomorrow night too soon?” but his vocal cords were suddenly useless, and in a sudden panic that she would interpret his stupid silence for a rejection of her advances he leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. He felt her stiffen in his arms for a second, saw her eyes widen in surprise, but the next moment she was pressing back against him, tipping her head back to better capture his mouth with her own. She took absolute control with a quiet, fierce determination that he found incredibly erotic. He was happy to reciprocate, to tighten his arm around her waist and open his mouth to her, his left hand tightening around the handle of his cane with something that felt like petulant frustration at not being able to simply drop the damned thing hold her properly, perhaps delve a hand into her hair, feel if it was as soft as it always looked. 

She seemed to read his mind, for she maneuvered them clumsily towards the rather tall balustrade. He eagerly leaned against it before dropping his cane in the nick of time to catch the librarian’s leg, which sought to wrap itself around his waist. Her obvious, undisguised want was disarming, making him forget himself in a way he had never allowed himself to-

“Papa, what the fuck?”

“Belle!”

Both him and Belle startled, with her regretfully taking a few steps away from him, leaving him to notice the chill in the air. When he glanced at the entrance of the balcony he saw his son and Miss Swan, looking radiant in her Vera Wang dress and also, bizarrely, quite smug.

“Hey, Bae, didn’t see you there.”

His accent barely made the words intelligible, but there was no helping that. He always lost control of his brogue when he was nervous.

“Clearly!” Bae sounded shrill, more child than man. Reminded him of the infamous temper-tantrums the lad had thrown once upon a time. “How could you? At my own wedding?!”

Fuck, he was right. He had been caught fucking making-out and almost doing God-knew-what just a few bloody steps away from his son’s wedding reception. What was the matter with him?

“I mean, why couldn’t you wait? I had almost won the bet!”

What?

“You only had to last until after the wedding! I was so close, pops! And you were doing so well!”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad. Now remember, Bae, you promised at least two dances with Regina’s sister. At least she’s unlikely to hit on you at your own wedding, so there’s that.”

Emma smiled up at her new husband, kissed his cheek, turned him around and directed him back towards the ballroom with a not-so-gentle smack in the ass. She smiled, gave Belle a thumbs up and an “atta girl” and walked out of the balcony, closing the French doors behind her.

Grabbing handfuls of her skirt, she tried to control her outrage over his words, but her anger soon subsided into guilt. Bowing her head in resignation, she knew he was right. The fact that she was sitting in her bedroom, with a demon, that she herself had summoned, was completely, utterly her own fault. When she opened that cryptic book over a week ago, she had no idea what she was doing.  It was her own curiosity that won out over common sense as she drew the symbols from the book, over her bedroom floor.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her blue eyes drowning in atonement.

He opened his mouth, a cruel quip on his tongue, but quickly closed it, when he met her gaze. His anger and posture deflated as he saw the sincerity behind her eyes.  

“Tell me again, how you found the book?” he probed his tone much more delicate.

Closing her eyes Belle recalled the events that had changed both of their lives forever.

It was with great reluctance, but at her father’s insistence, that Belle traveled to Glowerhaven, to visit with her intended suitor, Sir Gaston. Although she found the barbaric man unappealing, her father insisted that Gaston would make a proper husband. Avonlea needed a male to rule it one day, as her father so often reminded her. She knew her father’s disappointment that he had no male heir, and truly did wish to please him by marrying, but in her heart she wanted to marry for love, not political alliances.

Two weeks had never crawled by more slowly, as day after tiresome day; Belle plastered a phony smile, as Gaston spewed endless tales of his own self-worth.  With every passing second she spent with him, she became more convinced than ever that she could never give her heart to someone as superficial as he.

When Sir Gaston announced that he would be leaving for most of the day, on a hunting expedition, to bring back the best meats of the land for Belle’s farewell dinner, she had to constrain herself from leaping out of the chair with pure joy, at the mere thought of freeing herself from his company for a few hours.  

Waving his hunting party off with a genuine smile, once out of view, Belle bolted towards the woods in the opposite direction.

Although she did not know these foreign lands she traveled along the beaten path, elated to be listening to the sounds of nature, and not the inflated ego of her intended brute. After an hour of gazing at the beauty of the forest, she decided she better turn around and follow the path back to town, when out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large blue blur make a beeline behind a tree.

Dumbfounded for a moment, she stood frozen, her mind processing what she believed was a person in a blue cloak, hiding behind a tree.

“Hello?” she called out, taking one small step and then another off the path towards the large oak. She jumped, as a twig snapped beneath her own foot. Laughing at frightening herself, she glanced up in time to indeed see a person bolt from the cover of the tree. The cloaked figure ran deeper into the woods.

“That cloak,” she whispered to herself, as a far ago memory of her deceased mother wearing it flashed before her eyes. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Mother?” she cried out, running in the direction that the figure had moments ago. She ran, with no care to where or how far.  Winded, she stopped, bending over, her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. In the distance she heard a crunch of leaves, looking up to see the hooded figure ducking into a small stoned cottage.

Who would live out here alone in the woods, she thought to herself, as she slowly approached the building.

“Be brave, Belle” she said to herself, as she pushed the heavy wood door open, gasping as she entered.  Blackened ash covered the small scorched room.  Her heart filled with sorrow as she glanced at the charred books aligning the four walls. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she coughed as the smell of burnt paper and a stale smokiness filled her nostrils.

Running her fingers over the seared book spines, she held back a sob, as most dissolved into a pile of ash at the slightest touch. So many books, so many stories that would never be read, destroyed by fire.  What a shame, she thought to herself.

She felt an engraving under her fingers, as she walked along the bookcase. Using her breath, she blew off the darkened soot, examining the engraving more closely.  Under each shelf there was an engraved symbol.

The symbols looked familiar and she searched her memories, for an answer. “Of course,” she whispered, as the memory of her mother’s teachings surfaced to the top. “It’s fairy.” Taking a step back she scanned all of the engravings on the shelves. “It’s the alphabet.” A fairy library she thought to herself, or at least it was, before something happened to it.

Her eyes scanned over the bookshelves, when her attention landed on a leather bound book, somehow untouched by the fire. She felt drawn to it. Looking down at the engraving, she ciphered the symbol to be the letter “D.”

Sudden waves of desire lead her fingers to grasp it, pulling it down off of the shelf. Electricity filled the stale air, as the hairs on the back of her neck raised to attention. Using her hand, she wiped the years of dust and soot from the cover, revealing, a golden symbol, unlike anything she had seen before.

As she flipped through the pages, her gaze stopped on an illustration, of a person in bed, objects surrounding the figure.

It’s a spell book, she thought to herself.  Judging by the illustration, and the fact that it was listed under the “d” section it might have to do with dreams she surmised. Suddenly she remembered the reason she had entered this shack in the first place. Spinning around she looked about the blackened room, seeing no one.

But how was that possible, she saw a person go in here? There were no windows or visible exit. Unless…she shook her head. It couldn’t be could it? Could the spirit of her mother led her here?

A laugh bubbled in her throat, at the thought that her mother had led her to a book  about dreams. Ever since her mother’s death, nightmares plagued her once peaceful slumber. Too many nights, she woke in a cold sweat, her blankets strewn over the floor. And now with this book, maybe her mother was trying to help her beyond the grave.

Stepping outside, book in hand, Belle gasped as she saw the sun setting. How long had she been in there? In the distance she heard galloping.  Tucking the book into her cloak, she moved quickly towards the sound.

“There she is,” she heard Gaston bellow as his horse quickly approached her. “Belle, where have you been?”

“I’m so sorry Gaston, I lost all track of time.” She was soon surrounded by all members of his hunting party. “I…” she couldn’t very well tell him she came out to the woods to escape him for a while. “I wanted to pick flowers for the feast tonight and…”

“And this is why girls need an escort,” Gaston mocked speaking to his party. “They see a pretty butterfly and then chase it into the woods, never to be seen again.”

She bit her tongue as the men around her laughed at her expense. As Gaston went on about how careless and naïve she was she kept glancing back behind curious if one could still see the cottage from there.

“What are you looking at Belle?” Gaston asked irritated that she was preoccupied with something other than him.

“Do you know what caused the fire in the cottage back there?”

Gaston’s eyes went wide as he looked at her like she had grown a second head.  “Cottage, near here? There is no cottage here Belle. I know these woods like the back of my hand.”

“But I was just there, I…”

Jumping off his horse, he approached her. “Show me,” he commanded.

Taking him by hand, Belle guided him back to where she was, but was astounded to find the once burned building gone.

“But…I don’t understand, it was here. There was a cottage, and….and books, but everything was burned, and...”

His laughter bellowed out, echoing into the forest.

“But it was here, Gaston, you have to believe me.”

“Enough of these senseless ramblings Belle. You were alone and scared.  This is why girls should never be left alone, you all go hysterical and imagine things without a man here to protect you. Now come we have a feast to attend.”

Reaching into her cloak, she felt the presence of her book safely tucked away. She didn’t dare pull it out to offer proof of her sighting, in fear that he would snatch it from her. She knew the truth, and when she returned back home tomorrow, she would see what her mother wanted her to have.

Happiness filled her to the core, as she finished unpacking. It felt wonderful to be back in her own room, with her own things, and far away from that chauvinist ox. Finally alone, she grabbed the book she had concealed in her cloak.

“Now, what secrets do you hold, hmmm?” she questioned opening up the book, glancing over the unknown language. She once again stopped on the illustrated page of a figure in bed, different symbols surrounding the figure on the floor.

Getting up, she crossed the room, opening a drawer where she kept her crafts. Finding the piece of chalk, she crossed back to her bed, laying the book open on the floor as she got on her knees. With fierce determination she replicated each symbol on the floor.

All thoughts of safety diminished as the adrenaline coursed through her body. It was exciting. Her mother gave her this book, she was sure of it. She was meant to do this, she could not explain it, but it felt right as she drew the last symbol, a dagger.  Climbing on her bed book in hand, she stood on the mattress.

She felt a slight tingling in her fingers, as unknown words magically appeared below the illustration.

“Irmoamin Lye Nuquernuva Sen E Dagor,” glided off her tongue.

Closing her eyes, anticipation built as she waited for something, anything to happen.

Opening one eye, she peaked around the room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Quickly opening the other, she let out a discontented huff. Plopping down on her mattress she crossed her arms as disappointment washed over her.

The sudden knock on the door, jolted her from her despair, as she scrambled to place the book under her covers.

“Petal, its father.”

“Just a moment,” she called out, looking down towards the floor in dismay at the drawings surrounding her.

“I just want to say goodnight,” she heard the creak of her door opening, as she leapt off her bed.

Alarmed blue eyes watched as his smile fell while taking in the newly drawn surroundings.

“What are you doing?” He roared, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her.

She winced as his nails dug into her. “Papa, please, it’s just to help with my bad dreams.”

He let go of her, bending down to take a closer look at the drawings on the floor.

“Is this witchcraft?

“No, no Papa,” she pled tears in her eyes. “It’s just a spell, a fairy spell I think. I just…” her words were cut off by his sharp reply.

“Where did you learn this?”

On instinct she glanced towards her covers, and back at her father. Storming over to her bed, he tore away the blankets revealing the book. Grabbing it, he spun on his heels.

“How dare you bring this…this filth into my home! Where on earth did you get this?”

“I…I found it Papa,” she stuttered, her eyes casted on the floor.

“Where?” he demanded, moving closer fury in his eyes.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could she say? The truth? He wouldn’t believe her that she followed the spirit of her dead mother, to a cottage, that no one else saw. He might think she gone mad, and send her to the clerics.

“So now you have secrets from me?” He scolded clutching the book to his chest at her silence. “You listen to me, daughter. You are to wash this filth off the floor immediately. You will not leave these grounds without my expressed permission, do you understand me?”

Eyes casted on the floor, she nodded, her body tense with fear as he stormed out of her room, book in hand. Once gone, she collapsed on her bed, sobbing, as yellow eyes watched her from the darkened corner of the room.

A manic giggle echoed off the walls, springing Belle up from her bed. Looking around, her eyes landed on the green scaled figure standing in her room.

“Well, well well dearie,” he purred showing his yellow teeth in a twisted smile. “Tell me what your little heart desires.”

A mixture of shock and terror filled her soul, as she stood mutely.

“Cat got your tongue, dearie? That…man that just left, your father was it? Boorish man. What do you want to do to him?” He questioned in a sinister tone.

The mention of her father shook her out of her disbelief. “Wh…Wh…What?”

He approached her, his black nails pointing towards the door. “Oh, there are so many things we could do to him. He gave you quite a tongue lashing, let’s see him try it with no tongue,” He giggled clapping his hands together.

“No!” she commanded finding her voice. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on my father,” she spoke lifting her chin bolstering a confidence she did not feel.

“Well then what do you want?” He slinked towards her, sizing her up and down.

“Want, I...I’m not sure what you mean?”  

“Why did you bring me here?” a hint of annoyance laced his voice.

“Wait,” she shook her head trying to figure out what was going on. “I brought you here?”

Scoffing, he turned on his heel, his gaze fixed upon the symbols on the floor. “There!” he pointed towards one of them she had drawn, a long edged dagger. “This is my symbol. You conjured me here.”

Belle’s mouth went slack, at the revelation. What had she done? This wasn’t some spell to help with nightmares, she had conjured up this thing that was standing in her room. “You mean you are a…”

“Demon.” He finished her sentence, taking a dramatic bow. “Rumpelstiltskin, the demon of darkness at your service. Now tell me little girl what it is you want.”

“Nothing,” she watched as he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing upon her like prey. “I thought it was a spell to help with nightmares, I had no idea that this was…I mean that you would…” She didn’t know what to say to him.

“So you,” he pointed his clawed hand at her, “are telling me that this was just a mistake?”

Biting her lip, she casted her gaze to the floor, nodding. A variety of curse words some in languages she knew, others she had never heard of, spewed from the demon’s mouth. After ranting for what felt like hours, he finally settled down enough to turn his attention back onto her.

“Send me back.” He commanded, his eyes filled with rage.

“I don’t know how. I just did what the book instructed.”

“Well give me the book. If it shows you how to conjure me here, it has to show how to send me back.”

“I..I don’t have it. My father took it.”

He lunged at her, showing his teeth, and she turned her head, feeling his cold breath on her cheek.

“Then get it back.” He snarled.

“He’s already went to bed, I’ll go to him first thing in the morning…I promise,” she turned her head back towards him, her blue eyes landing on his. He stepped away from her, as his mouth twitched.  

“Tomorrow then,” he affirmed disappearing in a puff of red smoke.

For once her lack of sleep that night had nothing to do with nightmares.  She was dressed and ready at the break of dawn to get the book back from her father.  Knocking on his chamber door, he drowsily gave her permission to enter. He lay in bed, pillows surrounding him.

“Good morning father.” Her voice was unusually high filled with a false cheer.  Shuffling her feet to the side of the bed she gave him a kiss on the cheek. His reception was cold and silent, and she knew he was still stewing from last night. It wasn’t the right time to approach it, but she had no choice, Rumpelstiltskin would be back soon.

“Father I wanted to talk to you about the book.” He held up his hand stopping her from uttering another word.

“We will not speak of that book again, do you understand me? I burnt it last night. It is no more.”

Her stomach dropped at his words. The book was gone. Rumpelstiltskin was going to be furious with her.

Retreating back to her room, she used a bucket of soapy water, scrubbing away the figures on the floor. How could she have been so careless to do this?  What would she say to him when he reappeared? Her mind raced with the numerous punishments and horrors that he could bestow upon her and her father. She had whipped herself up into frenzy of panic that she nearly jumped out of her skin, when she heard his voice behind her.

“Where is it?”

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him, her eyes brimming with tears. “It’s gone. My father destroyed it.” His eyes bored into her as he stood perfectly still.  His silence, any lack of response frightened her, and so she dug down deep, mustering all the bravery she had left.

“Please…please don’t hurt him. It’s my fault. I will accept any punishment, just please don’t hurt anyone else because of my…mistakes.”

Letting out a frustrated moan, he lifted his head looking up at the ceiling. “I can’t punish you. You conjured me here. I’m not allowed to kill you. I’m here to help you get what you desire.”

Now it was Belle’s turn to stare at him silently. For a moment, she felt a shield of safety surrounding her.

“So you have to do what I say?”

“No,” he shook his head his voice sarcastic. “I’m not a damn genie. I don’t give you wishes. I’m a demon. I feed on your darkness. I can help you. Help you get power, revenge,” he started moving around her, like a shark circling its victim. “All you have to do is give in to your desires, your darkness.”

“But I don’t want you to hurt anyone.”

“Are you sure about that? We all have that little voice in us, don’t we? Wanting bad things to happen to bad people. You have darkness in you.  You just don’t know it yet.”

“That’s not true.”

He sighed, stopping in front of her. Lifting his hand, he placed it inches from her chest, “May I?”

Confused but curious as to what he was asking, she nodded, not really knowing why. She felt a tinge of electricity as his palm touched her chest over her heart. His hand laid there only for the briefest moment, before he recoiled, repulsed by whatever he was searching for.

“You’re full of light,” he sneered, “love.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

His mouth formed a firm line. “It is for me.”

“Why?”

“Every moment that I am here, and don’t feed the darkness, I grow weaker.”

“Will you die if I don’t give into darkness?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Just weak, pitiful, something I don’t wish to experience ever again.”

“But you won’t die?” She asked again, needing to hear that confirmation that her own actions would not kill him.

“I told you, NO!” He lifted his chin, his voice much more arrogant. “A little girl like you could never kill me. Only a demon can kill another demon. That or …” Snapping his mouth shut, she was curious as to what he was going to say.

“Or what?”

“Why do you want to know how to kill? Already tired of me Mistress?” He sneered.

Her curiosity peaked even more, now she had to know. “Don’t be silly, I’m not going to kill you. I would never do that.”

For the life of him he could not explain why he decided to tell her, but with her eyes upon him, he spoke.

“Love. True love to be exact,” He mockingly held his hands up to his heart. “The only magic more powerful than a demon’s, or so the legend says.

“That seems…sad,” she countered, wondering what a demon’s life without love would be like.

He shrugged. “Most things in life are.” There was sadness to his voice.

She felt a moment of sympathy for him, there was a story behind those haunted eyes, a mystery that she wanted to uncover.

It had been over two weeks, since she conjured Rumpelstiltskin into her life, and she was no closer in finding the answers on how to send him back to his realm. Every book, every road she went down led her to a dead end. She felt guilty for conjuring him, giving him no real purpose to be here. He was annoyed, and bored out of his mind, she was certain, but he appeared to her everyday typically in the late morning.

Every day they would fall into the same routine, he demanding she find a way to send him back, or command her to do something that required his darkness. Day after day she resisted his call.  She was a hero, or at least she wanted to be, like the characters in her book, she couldn’t give in to darkness.

Today will be different, she thought to herself, as she finished setting the small table in her chamber. She heard the small rustle of air, and could sense him standing behind her. “Hello Rumpelstiltskin,” she called not needing to turn around to see that he was in fact there.

“What is this?” He pointed towards the blue and white tea set before him on the table.

“Tea.” She countered matter of fact.

“Yes, I know its tea,” he scoffed. “Why is it here? I’m a demon….we don’t do tea parties.”

“Well, we are going to spending quite a bit of time together, and well….” She shrugged, “well, I thought we could get to know each other, and what’s better than a cup of tea with a new friend.”

“I’m not your friend, I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” she shook her head gesturing her hand towards the chair beckoning him to sit.

Slowly, cautiously he sat down at the table, his fingers fidgeting over the delicate china before him.

She stood lifting the teapot, pouring him a cup of tea, as a lady would do with any visitor.

“So how did you become a demon?”

Dumbfounded he sat there, his brain reaching for words, any words to respond. Of all the conversation starters, of all the questions, here is where she wanted to start? In all of his three hundred years as a demon, no one even thought of approaching such a topic with him.   He chuckled inertly at her inquisitiveness. He watched as she moved to the other side of the table, picking up her own cup, before he responded.

“Well I guess it began with my fascination in hunting children for their pellets.”

The clatter of her teacup against the floor, along with the look of horror on her face, brought him a wave of satisfaction. However the feeling was brief, quickly replaced with an emotion he had not felt in centuries…guilt.

“It was a joke,” he clarified feeling remorseful as she picked up the newly chipped cup.

“Right,” she anxiously agreed, placing the cup back on the table, filling it anew.

He watched with interest as she took her seat again, giving him a soft smile. As she lifted the cup towards her mouth, his mouth flew open.

“Don’t”

Her blue eyes widened at his command, as she brought her cup back down to the saucer with a clank. She let out a resigned sigh, her gaze fixed upon the table, a tone of sorrow in her voice.

“I was just trying…” she let out a sorrowful groan trying to find the right words, “I know you are not happy here, I just wanted to make the best out of a bad situation, and….I know you don’t want a tea party. I…”

“Belle,” her name on his lips halted her disjointed ramblings.

She looked at him, and for a moment he found himself lost in the innocence and light of her eyes.

“I…I don’t want you to cut your lip.” He whispered, switching the teacups, bringing the newly chipped cup up to his own mouth, taking a small gulp of the tea.

A warm sensation prickled her skin as she gave him a fragile smile.

X

Giddiness pooled in her stomach as she finished packing the basket of bread, cheese, and mead. For the last six weeks, she and Rumple, spent their days together. Having poured over every book, and having no solution, they had taken to spending their days conversing about a variety of topics.

She had opened up to him of her mother’s death when she was young, as well as her desire to see the world. They had somehow struck a delicate friendship between the two of them, and she soon discovered in this burgeoning friendship, she had started to develop feelings for him.

As she exited the kitchen, her view was obscured due to the basket she was carrying. She let out a small oomph as her tiny body collided with another.

“And where are you going in such a hurry?”

Immediately recognizing the voice of her father, she placed the basket down on the floor, reaching her arms out to give him a quick hug.

“It’s a beautiful day, papa. I wanted to spend it outside.”

“Well I am glad to see you up and about. You have been spending an exceptional amount of time alone in your room over these last few weeks.”

“Yes, well…” Belle faltered. She didn’t want to lie to her father, but she couldn’t very well time him she had been spending her afternoons with a demon.

“I hope you’re not still upset with me about that silly book?”

Biting her lip, she had no idea how to respond. Was she upset with him? There was a cruelty she thought in burning a book, but she understood that he was trying to protect her.

He patted her on the head, a smile beaming from his face.  “Well, don’t you worry my princess, your father is going to make it up to you. I have invited Sir Gaston to be our guest.”

“What?” Belle blurted out. “I mean… father I just saw him, I’m sure Gaston has better things to do then come here.”

“Nonsense. What could be more important than spending time with his future wife? He shall be here in three days.”

Feigning a smile, Belle picked up her basket, and made her way outdoors. Stewing at the thought of having to spend more time with Gaston, she laid out the blanket, plopping down in a huff. It was such a beautiful day, and she didn’t want thoughts of that buffoon to wreck her plans. Pulling out her favorite book, Her Handsome Hero, she relaxed beneath the tree.

Lost in the adventures of Sir Gideon she jumped at the sing song voice that appeared above her.

“Hello Dearie.”

Looking up she smiled at him, closing the book.

“I was hoping you would be able to find me out here.”

“Oh, I could find you anywhere mistress. You can never escape from Rumpelstiltskin,” he boasted finishing with a pose in his most dramatic flair.

She giggled. “Sit down Rumple.”

His brow cocked at the nickname she had adorned him almost a week ago. She assumed he liked it, as he never corrected her when she used it. She moved towards the basket, when he stopped her.

“Allow me,” he stated, reaching over her to grab the basket. His cheek was a mere inch from her mouth, and she longed to place her lips on his skin. Before she knew it, he pulled away, basket in hand, opening it. As he laid out the cheese and bread, he glanced over at her, and she gave him a saddened smile.

His brows furrowed together, and he turned his full attention on her.  

“What’s wrong?”

Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes, it felt like she lifted a cork off her troubled soul, as her concerns come pouring out of her mouth. She griped of her disgust at Sir Gaston coming to visit, her frustration with her father for deciding her own fate, and her own desires of wanting to see the world.

He sat there quietly, blinking owlishly as she bared her frustrations upon him. Her heart felt lighter as she spoke, but soon realized that she had been complaining to him for quite some time.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m just being so negative today. With everything going on with you, I’m sure the last thing you want to do is hear some silly girl complain about her life. ”

“No,” he shook his head his voice hoarse. “Don’t apologize. Never apologize. Not to me or anyone for that matter.

“My father…” she started to voice, but was cut off by his words.

“Your father is a fool.” He placed his hand up, stopping her from objecting. “You are a wonderful daughter. You’re kind, and beautiful, and your heart…well I know better than anyone how true your heart is.”

She found her cheeks blushing under the unexpected praise of him. He thought she beautiful? Looking at him, she was amazed at how his green skin glistened in the sunlight. He may not look like a typical man, but she found his look to be handsome, unique.  She poured him a glass of wine, as they continued to converse.

The more they sipped the looser their tongues became, giving her courage to ask him more personal questions.

“Where do you go? I mean…when you leave me, where do you go every day?”

“Well my place of course.”

Her eyes widened at the confession. “You have a place….here in this land? What is it like? Do all demons have homes?

Rolling his eyes in mock irritation he took another sip of wine.

“Tell me, please?” her eyes pleaded with him, causing his heart to clench. When she looked at him like that he could deny her nothing.

“It’s a castle…a dark castle.”

“Did you build it?”

Shaking his head no, his voice went hoarse.

“I lived there a long time ago…with my son.”

Her mouth fell open at his unexpected confession. He had a son. Was he a man once? A multitude of questions swarmed her brain, but a voice within her told her to keep her questions at bay.  Just be here for him.  Listen.

Reaching out, she took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

Looking down at their adjoined hands, he spoke.

“His name was Baelfire. Oh, he was such a good boy. I wanted to give him the world, but I was only a poor spinner. His mother…she abandoned us when he was only two months old.”

Belle listened intently as Rumple discussed how he and his son were allowed to live in the staff quarters of the castle, under the rule of King James.

“He was a good man, a good king, that was until the ogre wars fell to close to his liking, he at first sent every able bodied man out to fight. When that failed, he looked towards the children next.

“They were going to take my boy. I had been spared, nobody wanted a cripple, but my boy…he was only 13. So that night, I snuck into the chambers of King James. My only thought for my boy, I was going to plead with him, beg him to release my son from duty, but then I saw….”he swallowed hard, tears forming in his eyes.

“You saw what, Rumple?”

“Zorso.” He growled, the name sending his body quivering with rage.

“This demon, this Zorso, he was with the King, manipulating his every thought, his every desire. Zorso was feeding him the ideas of sending the children and soon the woman to fight these ogres. I had to stop it. Stop this demon from tainting our King. I saw a plate of fruit and knife on the table. I picked up the dagger, ready to kill the demon, save my son, save all the children.”

“I lifted the blade, as Zorso turned towards me. Next thing I knew I was flung like a ragdoll against the wall. When I came to, I saw the demon conversing with King James.

Closing his eyes, tears fell down his cheek. Bringing her hand up to his cheek, she brushed away his tears. “You don’t have to tell me Rumple. It’s okay.” She could see how much the memories pained him.

Bringing his own hand up to her forehead, he whispered, “let me show you.” She felt a tinge of magic, as his memory played out before her.

“Your King tells me that you are the spinner here in the castle. So your King gives you food and shelter and this is how you repay him? You come here to kill him!” Zorso accused.

“No, no, no no.” he pled looking past Zorso to his King. “My lord, I only came here to ask you to spare my boy, my Baelfire. I would never betray you my King. I only ask for my boy’s life.”

“Liar!” Zorso boasted, turning his hypnotic eyes on King James. “This coward means you harm.”

“No, my King, please. Never. Just my boy, please save my boy.”

“Enough.” Zorso growled, kicking the cowardly spinner in his back. “Your boy! Your boy!” Zorso mocked. A cloud of black smoke funneled next to him, revealing a terrified Baelfire.

“Papa!” Baelfire screamed, terror and confusion in his voice. Grabbing his shoulder, Zorso held Baelfire in place.

“Bae!” Rumple scrambled trying to stand, his bad leg giving out, his crippled body landing back on the floor. Glassy eyed and full of despair, Rumple looked up, to see Baelfire, his brave little boy, reach in his pocket, pulling out a spinning needle.

Looking at his father, Rumple gave him a quick nod, as Baelfire turned, lunging the needle into Zorso’s left eye.

Zorso screeched, reaching his hand up, pulling the needle out of his eye.

Freed for the moment, Baelfire bolted towards his father on the floor.

Reaching out his hand, Rumple felt a sudden jolt of force, as his body flew thru the air, and out the stain glass window.  Time moved in slow motion, as he fell into the night air, remnants of shattered glass falling down with him.

Belle gasped, bringing her hand up to her mouth, as Rumple removed his hand from her head.

“Zorso threw you out the window. He killed you.”

“I don’t even remember my body hitting the ground. I just remember lying there, thinking of my son, and how he was now left alone with that demon. I just wanted to keep him safe. I needed to come back. I needed to save my son. So I sold my soul to whatever evil lurked in the darkness. I swore my soul to the darkness, if I could just save my son.  I was reborn, but I was….this.”

“But did you save him, your son?”

He scoffed. “Even as a demon, I was still no match for Zorso. I tried to fight him, but he was more powerful. I grabbed Bae, and transported us far away. Ever the coward, I wanted us to hide. But my son...” he shook his head, “he was always braver than me. He wanted to save the other children.  He wanted us to save them all.”

“Your son was very brave, Rumple.” Belle squeezed his hand, seeing a small prideful smile on his face.

“Aye, he was. So I fought. It took months, but with my new powers, I was able to beat back the ogres. He was so proud of me, my boy. I remember the look of pride on his face, when he told the villagers, how his papa casted out the ogres.”

“What about Zorso?” she inquired, watching his lip curl in rage.

“I sold my bloody soul to darkness to beat him, and it was a flying gnat that bested him. A fairy! She casted him back into the darkness.”

“With Zorso gone, and the ogres defeated, I thought my son and I could be happy.”

She listened to him explain how the darkness consumed him more and more, and how Bae grew more concerned. “He finally had enough of me. He could only see the demon, not his father. When I went to look for him, I stumbled upon a fairy. I asked for her help to find my son, and as desperate as I was, I made a foolish decision.”

“What?”

He sneered. “I trusted her. I took the potion she offered. I thought it was a tracking spell, but it casted me out, back into the shadows of the darkness. I…I never saw my son again.”

“I’m so sorry, Rumple.” She squeezed his hand trying to pour all of her love and sorrow into the simple gesture.

“There’s a grave…he lived to the age of 90. I missed his entire life. All I know about him is what I read on his tombstone.”

With a sniffle, he lifted his head, his eyes falling on hers.

“I haven’t spoken about him to anyone in three hundred years.”

“Well I’m honored you told me about him,” she said with a sad smile.

He was baffled at how she was looking at him with such compassion. He just bared his darkest secrets, and she didn’t pull away from him. He allowed himself a quick glance of her lips, the desire to taste them soon overwhelming his senses. Lifting the glass of mead, he drank, hoping to alieve his desire.

Taking a quick glance around the corner, Belle let out a small sigh of relief, when she saw the stables empty. For the last two days, she could not take a step without Gaston plastered to her side. When he wasn’t laughing and planning out her life with her father, he was with her, his words and his hands an unwelcomed intrusion on her life.

With the oaf visiting, she hadn’t been able to see Rumple, and felt a large void in her life. She missed their talks, his smile, in truth, she simply just missed him. She had never felt this way before about anyone, and wished she had her mother to confide in.

“There you are,” Gaston’s voice echoed off the walls of the stable.

Rolling her eyes, she let out a small huff, willing herself to plaster on a fake smile as she turned to face him.

“Hello Gaston.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he spoke with annoyance in his voice.

“Well you’ve found me,” she responded shrugging.

Grabbing her hands a little too forcefully he brought them up to his chest, as he peered down upon her.

“Your father told me how depressed you have been since you last visited me.”

“Depressed?” she questioned. She had never been happier in her life.

“Hiding away in your room, spending time by yourself in the gardens. It’s okay that you missed me. I missed you too.”

Before she could respond, she felt his brute hand behind her head, pushing her towards his lips. Scrunching her eyes and nose, she turned her head, his wet lips landing on the side of her face. Reaching both hands up, she pushed herself away from his grasp with all of her might.

“Gaston, don’t!”

His eyes went wide startled by the rejection. After a moment, he let out a deafening laugh.

“Playing hard to get, you little minx. I love it.” He lunged for her, as she ducked out of his awaiting arms.

“No! Stay away from me Gaston.” She stepped backwards, her body colliding with the stable door.

“Don’t be silly,” he bolstered walking towards her.

One moment he was walking towards her, and in the next, his body was flying through the air, landing with a hard thud across the room.  She heard a manic giggle, and let out a sigh of relief knowing that he was there.

“I do believe the lady told you no.” He shrilled suddenly appearing before a dazed Gaston.

“What are you?” Gaston questioned in disgust looking him up and down.

“I was about to ask you the same question,” Rumple leant over him, his yellow eyes piercing with rage.

“Rumple,” Belle called, running over to his side. Turning his attention away from the befuddled oaf, a wave of concern flashed over his face.

“Are you alright, did he hurt you?” His arms fluttered near her side, unsure if he should touch her.

“I’m okay,” she assured him with a quick nod, stepping into his arms. She smiled, as his arm curled around her waist.

“Belle, get away from this this…thing!” Gaston commanded, stumbling back onto his feet. Rumple turned narrowing his eyes on his prey.

“I don’t know what hells you crawled from demon, but I’m going to send you back from wherever you came from.” With a quick motion, Gaston lifted his balled fists. “Your head will look good on my mantle.”

“Gaston, don’t be ridiculous.” Belle appealed, as Rumple guided her behind him with a swoop of his arm. “He’s my friend.”

Scoffing Gaston grounded his teeth. “You don’t know what you are saying, Belle. This demon has casted some spell on you.” Pointing his finger towards Rumple he concluded. “Your spells might work on weak minded girls, demon, but let’s see what match you are for a man.” Pulling back, Gaston swung as hard as he could, his punch landing on empty air, causing him to spin and land roughly back on his rump.

Blinking Belle quickly regained her balance, as she and Rumple had transported to the other side of the stable, a safe distance away from the fighting ox. Looking up at Rumple, his stare locked on Gaston, she lifted her hand, placing it gently on his cheek. Slowly she turned his head so his stare was fixed on her own.

“Please, don’t hurt him.” She saw the corner of his mouth twitch, as she continued to reason with him. “He’s a fool, and he does stupid foolish things, but you are here now. I’m safe. Everything is okay.”

“He tried to hurt you,” he hissed. Seeing the rage in his eyes, Belle knew that with a simple word, Rumple would kill the man who made unwelcomed advances towards her. Although, she was angry at Gaston, she did not want him to pay with his life. “He started this fight, I’m just going to end it.”

“You’re better than him,” Belle pleaded. “Please, please Rumple, let me just talk to him.” Her eyes pled with him. Giving her a quick nod, she turned, seeing Gaston giving her a look of disgust.

“You need to leave here Gaston, and never look back. I do not love you, and your presence is no longer required here.” She commanded her voice stern, as she walked towards him.

“You don’t know what you are saying. This monster has you under his spell.”

“The only monster here is you, Gaston. Now, go, before I let him deal with you instead.” Belle stood, her chin raised, now only inches from him.

“I don’t think so,” Gaston scoffed, reaching behind him, pulling out a large hunting blade.

Before Belle could speak, his large hand grabbed her shoulder, shoving her hard, her head hitting the stall door, her body crashing to the floor.

A terrifying roar echoed in her ears, as she lifted her head. Through her blurred vision she could see  Rumple’s clawed hands wrapped around Gaston’s throat, as red smoke engulfed them, leaving Belle alone in the stable.

With a pounding headache, and a stomach of worry, Belle let out a breath of relief as she maneuvered her way back to her bedroom, undetected. Closing the bedroom door, she quickly went about cleaning the cut above her left eye. It was through a closed door, that she informed the servant that she would not be coming to dinner that night, due to a headache.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, her mind raced with varied scenarios of where Rumple had taken Gaston. The terror filled scream he made before attacking Gaston, would haunt her dreams. She had spent the last month getting to know the man, that she forgot the demon side, the dark side of him was never far away. What would she tell her father? What would she tell anyone who inquired about the whereabouts of Gaston?

She was surprised that a large part of her, still wanted to protect Rumple. To lie to the others, make same excuse for Gaston’s untimely demise. But if he did kill him, could she really defend him? She could not condone murder, no matter what her heart felt for Rumple. Oh, why hadn’t he just listened to her, and not hurt him. And now? Things would never be the same between them.

Physically and emotionally exhausted, Belle laid down, as hot tears landed on her pillow. She heard a small gust of air, and knew he had returned. Not turning around, her voice shaky she asked the question dreading the answer. “Did you kill him?”

His deafening silence broke her heart. Wiping her tears, she arose on shaky feet, turning to face him.

“Did you kill him?”

“No,” he confessed in a hushed tone.

Sobbing with relief, she brought her hands up to her face, crying into her hands. It was as if a heavy weight had been released off of her heart. After a minute, she composed herself, a new concern dawning on her.

“Where is he?”

The side of his mouth twitched, as he opened and then snapped his mouth close. Worry once again crept under her skin.

“Rumple! Where is he?”

“Gone.” He replied simply.

“You said you didn’t kill him,” she moved towards him.

Now only mere inches from him, she gazed up at his face, anger and concern fueling her bravery. She saw his eyes flicker to the cut on her forehead, a moment of worry flashing behind his eyes, as they continued to stare the other down.

“You are not supposed to kill anyone, unless I desire it. I didn’t want you to hurt him.”

“And why do you care so much what happens to him, hmmm?” She could sense the jealousy in his accusatory tone.  “Need I remind you Mistress, of what almost happened in that stable? If I didn’t show up when I did…who knows that might have happened.”

“I care because you can’t go around murdering people. Yes, Gaston is stupid, and large, and obnoxious, but he’s also someone’s son, and if he does something wrong, then he needs to be punished, to be judged. You can’t just kill.  Heroes don’t kill.”

“Well, I’m not a hero, now am I?” He hissed at her.

Anger bubbled in her blood, she was tired of playing these games. She needed to know.

“Is he dead?”

“No.”

 “So he’s alive. Like walking, talking, breathing alive?”

“Yes.”

“Thank the Gods,” she sobbed. Lifting her hand up, she cupped his cheek, watching as he leaned into her touch.

“I wanted to kill him. Gods did I want to drain every ounce of life in him, but I knew you... I…” he couldn’t seem to find the words.

“So where is he?”

Swallowing hard, he looked at the floor. “I sent him to Oz. I figured he needed a brain, if he was so brazenly stupid as to lay a finger on you.”

“So he’s alive and well. You just sent him to a different land?”

Nodding, Rumple spoke. “I’m sure he will find his way back eventually.”

With a laughing sob, Belle threw her arms around Rumple, his body stiff, but soon he loosened into her embrace. She felt his arms cling to her back, as he pressed his face into her neck. She felt an immense pride in him for making the right decision. There was good in him. She could see the man behind the mask.  

Pulling back, his eyes once again went to her forehead.

“Let me take care of that sweetheart.”

He moved her towards the bed, getting on his knees before her.  She felt a pulling at her skin as he passed his hand over the cut.  Her head felt tingly for a moment, and then she felt as good as new.

“All better?” He asked concerned for her comfort.

“Yes, thank you.” Biting her lip, Belle still had so much she wanted to say to him, but in the moment she thought it best to shelve her questions for another time.  Feeling brave, she reached for his hand. It was warm, and she laced her fingers with his.

“So you can travel to different lands?” She ran her thumb, over his, that slightest touch sending her body aflame with desire.

“I can,” his voice was hoarse and low.

“I’ve always wanted to see the world. Far off places, new adventures. It must be nice.”

“It can be. It’s better, when you have someplace to come back to, though.”

“Or someone to come back to,” she countered. He looked at her then, his breathing ragged. His eyes looked at her like she was something of wonder, as she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The room felt warmer, and she glanced down at his lips. Be brave Belle, she thought to herself, slowly she moved forward.

The knock on the door jolted them both out of the moment, as Belle moved towards the door.

“Do you need anything, tea my lady?” the servant called.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Belle called through the door. Hearing the footsteps retreat down the hall, Belle turned, smiling at him.

“Well if adventure is what you want, Mistress, then adventure you shall have. Tomorrow, I will take you anyplace, anywhere your heart desires.”

Her face lit up, as she beamed at him.

“Any land?” she asked.

“Anywhere.” He promised, clapping his hands together.  “Tomorrow then?”

“It’s a date,” she bit her lip. He stilled, his eyes darkening. For a moment she worried that he might flee in fright, but he smiled and bowed.

“Indeed, Mistress.” And with that he vanished in a puff of magic.

She had taken her time that day in getting ready. She had spent extra time preparing her bath, picking out her finest smelling lotions, and took even longer on her hair. She decided to wear it down, but clipped the sides back with the antique combs that had been her mothers. She wore a dress of blue.

Her stomach pooled with a nervous anticipation as she waited for him to appear. She wondered if he was just as nervous as she was.

“Belle, “she smiled hearing his voice. Turning she saw him staring at the wall, his back towards her.

“Are you descent? I realized we really didn’t give a time, and I wasn’t sure if you would be ready, and..” she stopped his adorable rambling, by pressing her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m ready,” she voiced, watching as he turned around, his eyes roaming over.

“You look….beautiful,” he whispered, looking at her with such awe.

He was wearing black leather pants, with a wine colored blouse. She could see that he had taken extra time on his appearance, his hair was neatly combed, and scents of spice and leather tingled her nose. He was so handsome that it almost took her breath away.

He stood shyly his hands clasped before him, as if awaiting her approval.

“You look very handsome,” she said with a smile

“And you look…” he stopped realizing he already had complimented her, but decided to finish his thought, “radiant.”

“Thank you,” she replied a small blush gracing her cheeks.

“So where are we off to tonight my lady? Which far off land do you wish to discover?”

“I want to go to the Dark Castle?”

His body froze, his brows furrowed.

“I want to see where you go, when you’re not with me.” She took a step forward towards him. “You’ve seen where I live,” she spoke nervously. “I want to see where you live.”

He shook his head reverently. “You can go anywhere Belle, why would you want to go there?”

Taking his hand in hers, she looked into his bewildered eyes. “Rumple,” she blinked at him, his eyes fixated on hers. “Let me go home with you.”

Both of their breaths grew ragged as they stared into each other eyes. She felt a tug of desire in her lower belly.

“Very well.” He conceded.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, quicker then she could comprehend, there was a burst of light, and before she could blink she was standing in a dark foyer, still wrapped in his arms.

Stepping away from him, she took a moment to take in her surroundings. It was cold and dark, grey stone surrounded them on all sides. He grasped her hand pulling her forward as large wooden doors opened, revealing a grand hall.

It was warmer, as candlelight surrounded them. She noticed large drawn curtains covering the massive windows, and a long dining table in the middle of the room. Towards the right, she noticed on old spinning wheel. Turning on her heel, she smiled at him.

“You still spin?”

He shrugged. “It passes the time.”

Her attention turned to the variety of objects displayed on pedestals around the room.

“Where did you get these?” she asked fascinated.

“Ah! You mean my treasures. Most from people willing to make deals with the devil. Some are magical, some are not.”

She walked along the pedestals astonished at the variety of objects, when a familiar sight caught her eye. She stood frozen as her chipped teacup sat on display.

It took her a moment to remember how to breathe, as a warm sensation engulfed her heart. Slowly she walked up to it, her fingers gracing the rim of the cup. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the proof that he indeed felt something for her.  She wasn’t surprised to find him nervously playing with his fingers as she glanced back at him. He looked so unsure of himself.

Sensing how nervous he was, Belle quickly glanced over at another pedestal, which adorned a violin.

“And what is this?” she inquired.

Taking a breath, grateful for the excuse to focus on something besides the teacup, Rumple went on about the tale of the owner, who gave away his most prized possession.

“Do you play?” she asked.

With a snap of his fingers, the bow lifted, plucking the strings for an enchanting song. He cleared his throat, as she turned to look at him.

Reaching his hand out, he spoke. “May I have this dance?”

Bowing, she reached out taking his warm hand, as he pulled her near. Their eyes locked as their bodies swayed close together around the room. He lifted his hand, twirling her, as she stepped back into his arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered her eyes full of happiness. “For taking me here.”

“Not many would dare to go to a monster’s lair mistress.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“You’re not a monster,” she whispered, watching as he swallowed hard. His eyes darted to her lips, and Belle felt herself slowly moving forward, longing for a taste of him.

Just as their lips were to touch, a sudden gust of cold wind blew out the candles, leaving them in complete darkness. He jerked out of her arms, a snap of his fingers lighting the candles anew.

His eyes held a look of bewilderment, and she instantly knew something was terribly wrong.

“What is it?”

“Someone has summoned a demon.” He spoke sharp and quick.

“What, how? Who?”

“All great questions my dear. Come, we must get you home.”

He reached for her, and she took his hand without a moment of hesitation. Instantly they were back in her bedroom chambers.

“Stay here, don’t leave this room,” He commanded. Before she could respond, he had vanished.

Pacing her room, she waited for his return. There were so many answers that she longed for. Another demon? Was it here in their land? How did he know?

Her door creaked open, and she spun on her heel quickly to see who it was. Relief washed over her, as her father stood in the doorway.

“Oh father,” she ran over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “You scared me.”

She felt his body stiffen and stepped away to look at him.

“What’s wrong Papa?” She inquired, seeing small beads of sweat pool on his forehead. “Are you ill?”

“No,” he shook his head. “No child, for the first time in a long time, I’m well.”

Confused, she looked him up and down, her breath catching, as her eyes landed on the familiar book in his hand. Aghast she took a step back, pointing at it.

“Where did you get that? I thought you…” her words were interrupted by a dark unfamiliar voice.

“Burned it?” the beastly voice purred behind her. Frightened, she spun around, a hooded figure in a long black robe stood before her.  

“You should know better than that. That book doesn’t burn, isn’t that how you got your pretty little hands on it?” The figure lifted the hood, revealing, the one eyed demon she saw in Rumple’s memory.

“Zorso,” she whispered, as he gave her a wicked smile.  

“Father, we have to get out of here.” She reached her hand out towards him. Her father’s cold eyes stared at her open hand, as terror shivered down her spine.

“And why would we do that?” He asked heartlessly. “I’m about to get everything I have ever wanted.”

“No,” Belle shook her head. “Father, you don’t know what you are doing. This…this demon has polluted your mind, your heart.”

“You know better than anyone my sweet, that we only feed on the darkness that is already there,” the demon slithered in her ear.

“Get away from us,” Belle swatted blindly behind her, swinging at the empty air. “You don’t know him.”

“Oh, I know him better than you think my sweet,” the demon taunted his voice surrounding her.

Swiftly Belle lunged for the book in her father’s hand, but a strong force pushed her back against her bedroom wall. She watched in horror, as Zorso glided towards her father’s side.

“All she has ever done is caused you problems. Look at her last suitor, Gaston, he couldn’t get far enough away from her.” The demon purred into his ear.

“She doesn’t understand the importance of ruling, of needing power to control the peace. “ Her father conversed with the demon. “She’s too much like her mother.”

It was torment as she stayed pinned to the wall, hearing her father’s cruel words.

“I had hoped once I got her mother out of the way, she would be more open to reason, but the damage had already been done.”

It felt like her heart had been pulled from her chest, her father’s words a vice squeezing the breath out of her. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t have.

“You…you killed her? You killed mother?” she wailed.

“I did, what needed to be done.”

“You’re a monster,” she cried, tears falling down her cheek. For a moment her body felt weightless, as a streak of color flew past her. Whatever force that had pinned her, released, and her body hit the cold ground with a thud. Looking up, she saw Rumple before her, his black nails digging into Zorso’s neck.

“Zorso!” he screeched.

Easily flicking away his clawed hand, Zorso lifted his arm, pushing Rumple back a few feet away from him.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” Zorso barked laughing.

Getting to her feet, Belle bolted towards Rumple, but an invisible barrier stopped her in place.

“Stay away from her!” he ordered his chest heaving as he glared at Zorso.

“Or what?” Zorso smiled, lifting his fist landing a blow to Rumple’s face. “Even as a demon you are a coward.”

Tears rolled down Belle’s face, as she watched Zorso continue to land blow after blow to a bruised and beaten Rumple. She struggled but could not break free of the invisible barrier surrounding her. She turned her blood shot eyes towards her father.  

“Papa, please? Stop this!”

Hope swelled in her chest for a moment, as she saw a flash of anguish in her father’s eyes, as he looked at her. Sensing the weakness, Zorso turned to face him.

“I can give you a son. As many as you want. You will never have to worry about anything again.” Zorso swore. “You just have to let her go.”

Her mouth hung open, as her father nodded at Zorso, and then turned to her. “Goodbye, daughter.”

Numb, Belle watched as Zorso turned to Rumple.

“Say goodbye to your little friend.”

A wave of magic lifted Belle, as her body shattered through the window, falling into darkness.

“Belle!” Rumple howled, as his beloved flew out the window. Bloodied and bruised he willed every ounce of power he had left, transporting himself out into the open air. Reaching for her, Rumple grasped his love towards him, forcing their bodies to turn midair, his body hitting the cold hard ground, with Belle on top of him.

Her body screamed in agony as she forced her eyes open.  Dazed she could barely lift her head from his chest.

“Rumple?” She whispered. His eyelids fluttered open, as he casted his eyes downward towards her on his chest.

“Belle,” he croaked.

Her body roared in pain as she slowly wiggled a few inches up, her face now directly above his.

“I love you. Love you Belle.” He whispered his eyes closing.

“I…” she fought to speak through her pain. “I love you, Rumple.” With little grace, her lips found his.

A warm tingling sensation danced on her lips, as sparks of life ignited in her bones. The excruciating pain tapered away as she laid there, her mouth on his. Pulling her lips away, she opened her eyes, to see the pale human face of her love.  

“What’s happening?”

He smiled at her. “Love. True Love. The most powerful magic of all.”

A half sob, half laugh erupted from her throat, as she stared at his changing form in wonder. Scrambling off of him, she knelt at his side, running her hand along his cheek.

His smile faltered, as his focus went past her, and up to the broken tower window. Glancing back at her, he lifted his hand to her face. “I have to end this.”

Nodding she got up, helping him to his feet. Taking her hand, light magic surrounded them, as he transported them back up to her bedroom.

“Now let’s go about getting you a wife,” Zorso spoke his arm wrapped around Maurice, leading him out of the room.

“Not so fast, Zorso we are not done here.”

Turning Maurice gasped, bringing his hand up to his mouth, as his daughter stood before him alive and well.

“How is this possible?” Zorso spat. “I killed you,” he pointed towards Belle, “and you should be hiding in a hole somewhere coward!”

Lifting his hand, a powerful light magic crackled at Rumple’s fingertips, the shock causing Zorso to stumble backwards.

“How do you have that magic? You can’t have light magic? You can’t love. No one could ever love you!” Zorso hollered. “No one can love a demon. She can’t love you!”

“And yet she does,” Rumple smirked, strutting up to Zorso his face mere inches from his. “And I love. I’m full of love.”

With a simple wave of his hand, Rumple sent Zorso flying back against the wall.

Struggling to break free from the invisible restraints that pinned him against the wall, Zorso wailed in frustration, his power no match for love’s light magic.

“Nooooo!” Zorso bellowed as Rumple brought both hands up, as light shot from his fingertips. With a bright flash of light, Zorso evaporated into a pile of ash on the ground.

Turning to her, Belle leapt into his arms, kissing him passionately. A clatter had them both turning, her eyes narrowing upon her father who was scooting his way out of the room.

“Not so fast dearie,” Rumple chided, using his magic to forcefully close the door.

Maurice stood frozen, a look of dread on his face.

“What do you want to do about him, my love? “ Rumple turned to Belle.

“Daughter, please you have to forgive me. I didn’t know what I was doing, that demon, he took control of my mind I…”

His excuse fell upon deaf ears.

“No father. You were in control the entire time. The demon may prey upon your desires but they are still your own desires. You killed my mother. You tried to kill me.”

“Daughter, please.”

“I am no longer your daughter.” Belle said firmly. Turning to Rumple, she looked deeply into his eyes. She knew he would kill him if she only just asked. But he had come so far, she did want him to fall back into darkness. She smiled at him, and without a word she knew he understood.  

“We could lock him up. I think a lifetime in a cell would allow him to reflect on his poor choices.” Rumple suggested.  

With a radiant smile, Belle nodded her head in agreement.

With a snap of his fingers, Maurice disappeared from the room.  Walking towards were her father once stood, Belle picked up the book. Running her hands over the cover she closed her eyes, silently thanking her mother for the book which brought her soulmate, her one true love.

Turning she extended the book out towards him, a smile on her face.  He shook his head no, holding up his hand.

“I don’t need it.”

“Oh, but I thought you wanted to go back.” She teased.  

“Where I belong is with you,” he whispered, tears pooling in his eyes.

“I love you Rumple.”

He pulled her into her arms, kissing her passionately.

With a forlorn sigh Rumple closed the barn and wrapped his cloak around him tighter against a particularly strong gust, the breeze cutting through him like icy knives. Shivering he shuffled back to his hovel as fast as he could manage.  His cottage was better off than his barn, but it was just as small; although he liked to think that it was cozy.  Cozy enough for a small family.  Another stab of longing struck his heart as he sat before the small fireplace, warming his hands.  If only the flames could warm his heart as easily they warmed his body.

“Desperation is a dangerous thing.”  A soft voice said from the shadows.

Rumplestiltskin jumped up and knocked his stool over as he pressed himself against the wall.  Trembling he looked around, searching for the source of the melodious words that had seemingly come out of nowhere.  The room seemed as empty as it had when he had come out of the cold.  There was no one there, or so he thought until he saw two striking blue eyes staring at him from the gloom, the low light of the fire making it look as if they were glowing.

“Who’s there?” He called, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice.  The figure stepped forward into the light, revealing a stunningly beautiful woman. She was shorter than him, her skin as pale as marble, her hair dark curls of rich chestnut that framed her face, with lips plump and painted a deep shade of red; but he wasn’t fooled by her short stature or overwhelming beauty, he knew her for who she was.  “The Dark One.”  Rumple gasped, pressing back against the wall even further.

“So you know who I am.”  She replied as her lips quirked up; her smile more disquieting then reassuring.

“Everyone knows of the Dark One.”  He responded, his eyes never leaving hers.  Despite her beauty there was something grotesque about her, something wrong about how she appeared.  She was too pale, her eyes too blue, and in the light of the fire she almost seemed to shimmer, not unlike a ghostly spectre.  “W-what is it you want with me?”  Rumple dared to ask, scraping together the paltry amount of bravery he had.

She looked away, her gaze no longer pinning him in place allowing him to breathe easier. Humming she began to run her long, sharp, nails along his roughhewn table not answering him right away.  He licked his lips nervously as he watched her take in his home, a contemplative look on her face.  Magic and power radiated from her, from her posture to her fine clothes; she was completely out of place in his small hovel, her grandness shaming his meagre belongings.

“I’ve come to make a deal.”  She finally said, still not looking at him.  Without her scrutinizing him he was no longer trembling, but he was still weary of her. Everyone had heard of the Dark One’s evil deeds and immoral deals.

“A deal?” Rumple whimpered, his heart racing.

Looking up she pinned him in place with her gaze once more.  “I know there’s something you want, something you’re desperate for.”

“Why would you help me?”  He asked, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together nervously.

“Your desperate soul called to me, you’re ready to make a deal, and so here I am.”  The Dark One said simply, going back to perusing his things.  “Tell me, what is it you want?  Power? Wealth?  Your own kingdom to rule?”

“Love.” Rumple whispered, his heart aching as he looked down, his long hair hiding his face.

The creek of his wheel beginning to spin had him looking back up, seeing her turn it contemplatively.  “So its love you want?”  She replied softly, continuing to rotate his spinning wheel.

“Yes.”  He admitted hoarsely.  “More than anything.”

“I can’t make someone fall in love with you.”  She said looking at him.

“I wouldn’t want that.”  Rumple responded.  The idea of some poor woman shackled to him, forced to love him against her will made him feel sick, and it was comforting to know that magic had its limits.

She tilted her head to the side as she smiled at him, not the smirk from before, but a proper smile.  It changed everything about her, taking her from foreboding and monstrous to almost… gentle and sweet looking.  “I don’t hear that very often.”  She said, her eyes sparkling.  “You’re not what I was expecting, spinner.”

“Rumplestiltskin,” He replied, her words making him feel oddly proud, suddenly it was important to him that she knew his name. “My name, it’s Rumplestiltskin.”

“Lady Belle.” She said in return, curtsying.  “But please, just call me Belle.”  He felt his cheeks heat as he bowed, her musical giggle warming him further.  “I can’t make someone love you, Rumplestiltskin, but there are other ways to find love, things that are close to it, like companionship and touch.”

Nodding he took a hesitant step forward.  In the few minutes he had known the Dark One – Belle – he had begun to relax in her presence.  It was nice to talk to someone that didn’t sneer at him for his father’s sins or look down on him for his choice or trade.  Strange that it was the darkest person in the land that he would find easy to talk to. Perhaps that spoke to the kind of person he was, an outcast and a coward, unloved by either of his parents and now someone that could make the Dark One laugh.  He felt a sort of kinship with the woman before him, they were both outsiders, and there was even a hint of sorrow in her arresting blue eyes. It was easy to miss, but he could see it, he saw the same look in his eyes every time he looked at his reflection in the water of his washing bowl: loneliness.

“What did you have in mind?”  Rumple asked as she too took a step forward.  “For the deal, that is.”  He clarified.

“I had planned on offering to find you a wife in exchange for your spinning wheel, but now… now I want to make another kind of deal with you.”  Belle said, her eyes half lidded as she looked him over.

“Oh, aye?”  He breathed as she stepped forward again, running her hands across his chest.

“Tell me, Rumplestiltskin, do you think I’m pretty?”  She asked biting her lower lip and idly playing with the tie of his shirt; not undoing the knot, not yet, but the promise was there.

“More than, m’lady, surly you know how stunning you are?”  Rumple swallowed thickly, her closeness distracting him.  He was caught off guard by her change of subject, but a moment later her intensions clicked into place.  He was trembling again, but certainly not from fear this time.

“It’s always nice to hear it.”  Belle replied, tugging on the string keeping his shirt closed.  She let out an appreciative hum as more of his chest was exposed to her gaze.  “You’re rather handsome yourself, my pet.”

“You are too kind to an old man.”  He replied, ducking his head shyly to hide his blush.

Rumple knew he wasn’t much to look at, too gaunt from simple meals and skinny from spinning as well as shorter than most men made it so he could never be considered attractive.  That had been made perfectly clear to him over the years.  No one wanted a scrawny spinner and sheep herder for a husband or lover when they could have a dashing soldier or a brawny blacksmith.  Still, Belle’s compliment had made him feel good, if only for a moment.

“I don’t say what I don’t mean.”  She tsked. He raised his head to look at her once more, his uncertainty clear, her eyes softened as she met his gaze.  “Let me assure you, I think you’re very attractive, Rumplestiltskin.  The Dark One is many things, but a liar is not one of them.”

He swallowed nervously but nodded, a shudder running through him as she ran her nails along his exposed skin.  Everything about this felt surreal.  A beautiful, powerful, woman was touching him and enjoying herself while doing so.  She didn’t even seem to mind his diminutive stature.  Never in his life would he have thought this would be happening to him, what could the Dark One find interesting about a lowly spinner?  Certainly no one else had ever looked at him the way Belle was at the moment.  She was gazing at him as if she wished to devour him; and instead of being frightened by the prospect he was intrigued, more than, if the tightness in his breeches was anything to go by.

“What would t-this deal involve?”  Rumple stuttered.

“Well,”  Belle purred.  “As I said, my magic can't give you love, but touch and comfort is something within my power.”  She let her hand trail down his chest to cup him between his legs.

“Belle…” Rumplestiltskin let out a whimper as his hips thrust forward of their own accord.

“Not a love, but a lover instead, does that sound like a deal you would want to make with me?” Belle asked him in a sultry whisper while biting her lower lip and looking up flirtatiously.

“And what would you want in return?”  He asked. With all the blood rushing away from his head he was having trouble thinking straight, but he wanted to know the terms of the deal.

“Smart.” Belle praised, her words making him feel warmer.  She leaned up, her lips almost touching his.  “My body for yours.”  Belle whispered.  “Does that suffice?”

“Yes!”  He gasped. Almost before the word had left his mouth Belle was kissing him, her hands moving to tangle in his hair as his hands hesitantly moving to hold her hips.

They traded deep drugging kisses for a long moment, both of them breathing hard and panting when they pulled apart.  Shameful as it would be for him to admit out loud, Rumple had never been kissed before, and now he knew he’d been missing out.  The sensual slide of Belle’s lips against his set his blood aflame, leaving him trembling with want.  He was gratified a moment later when he realized that Belle was in the same state he was, her eyes darkened with lust as she moved to kiss him again.  Her moan of pleasure trigged his as their hands began to move.  In a matter of moments his shirt was on the floor and the fasteners of her dress were coming undone.

“Take me to bed, pet.”  Belle sighed, nipping at his lower lip.

He nodded and kissed her again, moving until the back of his legs hit his bed and they fell down onto the furs and woollen blankets that kept him warm during the colder months. Rumple let out a grunt as she landed on top of him, but he was too distracted by the warm and supple body pressed to his to care about the short fall.  Rolling them so they were more comfortable, Rumple began to kiss along Belle’s jaw and neck.  He kept moving down to kiss along her décolletage, only to be stopped by the neck of her dress; he growled in frustration and tried to pull the fabric down. His irritation was met with a fond giggle from Belle followed by a snap of her fingers, leaving both of them completely bare.

“T-that’s convenient.”  Rumple whimpered after a long moment of silent staring.

Since he was so overwhelmed by her beauty he didn’t even spare a thought to his own nakedness. Despite the fact that if he wasn’t out of his mind with lust he’d be horrified to find himself laid bare to her searching gaze.  Any fears that he could have felt were assuaged immediately by the appreciative look Belle was giving him as she trailed her eyes along his body.  He let out a whine as her fingers followed the same path her eyes had taken.  His cheeks began to heat as his shyness got the better of him; he ducked his head, trying to hide behind his long hair.  Belle sat up, angling her face so that she could look into his eyes as one of her hands moved to tangle in his hair.

“Don’t hide from me.”  She whispered with a smile, brushing her nose against his and then stealing a kiss.

Relaxing, he smiled against her lips and surrendered to her kiss, letting out a contented sigh. He knew this was only a deal, but Belle’s touches and kisses seemed to fill that hole in his heart; she banished his loneliness and he hoped he could banish hers as well.  Rumple knew his touches were clumsy at best but Belle didn’t seem to mind, her soft moans and words of praise urging him on.  Every time she sighed or gasped he felt emboldened; the sound of her voice telling him he was doing well did things to him he hadn’t expected.  The tips of his fingers ran down her back and he felt her shiver in appreciation, another sign that she was enjoying this as much as he was.

“You really want this.”  Rumple murmured in wonderment.  Kissing his way down her neck he stopped to nip gently at her shoulder.  “I can't believe it.”  He whispered into her skin.  “I can’t believe that someone as beautiful as you would let a pathetic spinner like me touch you.  That you want do to this with me.  If I’ve fallen asleep and I’m dreaming, please don't let me wake up.”

Belle tangled her hand in his hair and pulled him away, Rumple letting out a whimper as she did so.  All kinds of horrible thoughts raced through his mind as she held him away from her. Had she changed her mind?  Was she going to laugh in his face?  How could he have ever believed that someone could possible want him?  He steeled himself for her scorn, every muscle in his body tensing.  Even if he was naked as the day he was born he was ready to bolt out the door and run into the snow to avoid her disdain.  However, the harsh words he was expecting never came.

“Enough of that, my pet.”  Belle soothed softly, running her fingers through his hair.  “I want to be here, I want to be with you.  Don’t doubt yourself or your appeal.”  As she continued to stroke his hair her other hand began to run along his chest, teasing his sensitive nipples with her nails. “Touch me?”  She encouraged.

“Gladly.”  He breathed, his hands moving to cup her breasts, a pleased smile making his eyes shine at the wonderful sound she made.

“Yes, just like that.”  Belle sighed, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips moved to join his hands.  She let out a breathy moan as he wrapped his lips around one pebbled nipple, teasing it before moving to the other side to give its twin the same treatment.  “You’re doing so well.”  Belle panted, shifting to give him better access.

Whimpering he redoubled his efforts, letting his hands wander down her body, as he moved back up to claim her lips again.  His hands stroked along her stomach, softer and warmer then he’d been expecting, gratified to hear her sigh again, enjoying the feel of her hand tightening in his hair as the other gripped the taunt muscle of his behind.  Rumple had assumed she’d be cold and hard like the marble she appeared to be made of, but he was wrong.  Belle was soft and warm and wonderfully inviting.  The way her leg moved to curl around his hip, opening herself for him, made the low ache in the pit of his stomach grow more insistent as his cock hardened fully.

As he realized that his body was ready worry curled the pit of his stomach; he’d never done this before.  And if his knowledge about himself when he took himself in hand on occasion was anything to go by, he’d be spent in a matter of moments, leaving Belle unsatisfied. He kissed her more insistently, letting one of his hands trail down to flirt with the dark curls between her legs. Perhaps if he was able to make this good for her before he joined with her, she would be more forgiving when he failed her later.  He hoped so; all he wanted was for her to feel as good as he was, to hear her tell him he was doing well.

“Am I doing okay?” Rumple asked as his hand dipped down to run a finger through her slick folds.

Belle whimpered as her hips bucked into his hand, her straight and perfect teeth biting into her plump lower lip.  He was seized by an urge to replace her teeth with his, to kiss her bottom lip and nip it himself.  But he held back, waiting for her to respond in case she wasn’t enjoying herself as much as he thought she was.

“So good, keep doing that.”  She moaned as his fingers began to explore between her thighs.  Belle let out a sharp cry as Rumple pressed against a particularly sensitive nub, her hips jerking against his hand.  “Yes!  Just there, Rumple!”  She sobbed.

He did as she said, rubbing her in time with the rolling of her hips, dragging more sweet sounds of pleasure from her lips as he kissed her chest and neck, desperate for her praise.  Every time she called out for him using the shortened form of his name his cock twitched; he’d never had a nickname before, no one had ever cared enough to gift him one, but Belle had.  She pulled him up to kiss her; he was all too happy to comply, moaning into her mouth as she brushed her tongue along his bottom lip.  He opened for her immediately feeling nothing but pure bliss to be plundered as she kissed him.  He continued to touch her as their lips met and came together over and over again, his other hand now cradling her jaw.

Rumple was surprised when Belle suddenly stiffened beneath him letting out a sharp gasping breathe, her nails biting into his skin as she found her pleasure.  Pride swelled in his chest as he gentled her through her release, aching for his own as she babbled words of approval in his ear.  He kissed her neck, as he felt her begin to relax beneath him, holding her closer.  Even if this was the end, even if he had to find his own release later when he was alone, he would forever be warmed knowing he’d been able to bring such pleasure to a beautiful and vibrant woman.

“Oh Belle.” He sighed holding her against him, pressing gentle kisses to wherever he could reach.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you.”  Belle purred, licking her lips as she moved her hand to grip his hard hot length. She smiled as he let out an eager whimper.  He loomed over her as she stroked him, her legs spreading so he could more easily lay between them; Belle pressed a chaste kiss to his slack mouth as he tried to keep himself under control.  “You feel so good in my hand.”  She hummed, nipping his jaw.  “I think you’d feel even better somewhere else.”  Belle whispered in his ear, giggling musically when he groaned as a shudder ran through his body.

Belle guided him between her legs, both of them hissing in pleasure as the head of his cock pressed against her wet and welcoming entrance.  He continued to press into her, his eyes rolling back as he was enveloped in her tight heat.  Gritting his teeth he let out a pathetic whine, Belle’s breathy little moans along with the sensation of her wrapped around him making him fear he’d disgrace himself.  Leaning down he brushed his nose against hers, panting heavily, feeling her smile as she pressed a kiss to his jaw once more.

“I won’t last.” Rumple admitted, his voice breaking as he put his shame into words.

“Then don’t.” Belle whispered, cupping his face in her hands and gently kissing his lips, her legs snuggly wrapped around his hips. “Don’t hold back, darling.  You made me feel so good; now I want you to feel that bliss too.  Make yourself feel good, Rumple, make us both feel good.”  She cooed, her firm tone making his heart beat even faster than it already was.

Whimpering again he slowly began to move his hips, letting out a low groan as he painstakingly slide almost all the way out before just as slowly pushing back in.  Rumple watched as Belle’s eyes flutter closed, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

“So beautiful.” He sighs, watching her.

“So are you.” She whispered back, leaning up to kiss him as he turned scarlet.  He doesn’t get a chance to argue the point before Belle’s speaking again.  “You feel so good; you’re so gentle and sweet.” She said, the admiration clear in her tone.  “Keep moving, Rumple.”  She moaned, her head falling back as she squeezed her eyes shut and rolled her hips in encouragement.

Cursing softly he did as she said, easily falling into a gentle rhythm with the beauty beneath him.  Rumple was still flabbergasted that the woman in his bed was letting him touch her, let alone make love to her; but he didn’t have much time think about that before his mind went blank with pleasure.  As he predicted he only lasted a handful of thrusts; the feeling of her around him and her breathy words of enjoyment in his ear pushing him over the edge at an embarrassingly quick rate.  He sobbed in mindless pleasure against her neck his whole body shaking as he came, filling her with hot ropes of his seed.  Belle cooed in his ear, soothing him; whispering words of encouragement and approval as she ran her hands through his hair.

Over the next few months Belle kept visiting him.  At first she only came to share his bed.  One moment he would be alone, and the next she would be laying among his blankets, beckoning him to join her with a suggestive smile and lust darkened eyes. Rumple was all too happy to leave his spinning behind to kiss her softly and find their shared pleasure again and again. He had improved from the first time they were together, Belle’s gentle guidance teaching him what she liked and even let him discover things he enjoyed but had never even considered.

One night when they were still catching their breath, quiet in each other’s arms he had panted out the question, “Where did you learn how to do this?” Belle had blushed and admitted that she’d read about it in a book.  They’d shared a laugh and Rumple had asked her to tell him more about the things she’d read.

After that it was as if a floodgate had opened, they talked about anything and everything. They discussed books and Belle’s travels, she detailed all the things she’d seen and all the things she still wished to see, and Rumple hung on every word.  When Belle was excited about something her eyes shone.  Not the way they had when he first met her, icy blue and almost inhumane, but instead vibrant and hopeful and filled with verve. He could, and had, spend hours listening to her talk about the things she loved; her passion for the world more beautiful than anything he’d seen before.

They didn’t just talk about the things Belle enjoyed though.  She wanted to know everything about his simple life; asking him question after question about how he handled his sheep and what kind of magic he had to make his thread come out so perfectly.  When he chuckled – something he did much more frequently now that Belle was in his life – and told her it wasn’t any kind of magic she’d asked him to teach her.

Rumple would admit to enjoying sitting behind Belle and guiding her hands more than he had any right to; finally the one to whisper soft words of encouragement and praise in her ear as he breathed in her delicious scent.  If she hadn’t been so focused on getting it right he might have left a few more lingering kisses on her neck and bayed her to come to bed; the bed she spent almost every night in at this point.  But he could see how dedicated Belle was to getting it right, so he controlled his lust and held her until her thread was almost as perfect as his. The look of joy she gave him when she held up the short length of string was well worth it.  As was the kiss they shared after.

He wasn’t sure when he fell in love.  Loving Belle was as easy as breathing.  Perhaps he’d fallen when they’d started talking about books, or when he taught her to spin or maybe he’d always been in love with her.  All Rumple knew was that his heart belonged to her, totally and completely.  And sometimes when they were laying together in the dark sharing a soft smile, their hands twined together, he thought she loved him back.

It had seemed like a normal kind of day for the most part as he stood in the field.  Belle was on a deal so she hadn’t joined him, instead saying good bye with a sweet kiss that morning before disappearing in a puff of smoke.  Now he was left to tend to the sheep alone on a warm fall day.  Before that would have bothered him, the solitude making the hole in his heart ache with want, but with Belle in his life he didn’t mind the quiet.  Watching the sheep as they did their own thing was relaxing, they wandered to and fro without a care in the world beyond the kinds of things sheep needed to worry about.

What a difference a year makes. Rumple thought to himself with a fond smile.  Last year at this time it had been freezing cold and he’d been alone except for his sheep. Now it was warm with only the slightest hint of a chill, winter would be mild no doubt, and most importantly of all was Belle.  He’d be the first to admit the smile on his face was the love sick kind as was the sigh that followed.  It didn’t bother him, the way he felt made him feel like he was more than he ever had been before.  When Belle smiled at him everything in the world was right, when he was able to make her laugh he felt a hundred feet tall, when she let out a throaty moan and told him to keep touching her he felt as if he’d been blessed by the gods themselves.

He had told her, one night, when she was asleep in his arms – Belle had confessed to him that the only time she felt remotely sleepy was when she was in his arms after making love and he’d thought of it as a point of pride that he could do that for her ever since. – it was a start at least.  Rumple knew he needed to tell her, he wanted to tell her but every time he got close to saying it his tongue froze.  So he’d made a plan, he would tell her that night, on the anniversary of their meeting.

Admittedly he was terrified.  Right now everything was perfect.  Belle was his friend and his lover, she filled the hole in his heart, but if he told her and she didn’t feel the same he would surely turn to dust.  He didn’t expect anything from Belle; her presence in his life was more than anything he thought he’d have.  Clearly he was greedy, hoping and wishing Belle loved him the way he loved her.  Sighing, his shoulders sagged; he’d gone over this in his mind a hundred times or more. Rumple didn’t want to ruin what they had, or make Belle feel uncomfortable, but at the same time he wanted her to know she was loved.

There hadn’t been enough love in Belle’s life when she was an ordinary human, losing her mother, father and fiancé to the ogres in one swift blow had devastated her.  Since then she’d had no one; especially after she’d taken the curse.  When she told him what had happened, his heart had broken for her.  A young woman suddenly without her parents or the man she was meant to marry, even if there had been no love between them, it would have been too much to bear.  She hadn’t even realized she was crying until he brushed her tears away.  That night he held her and told her he’d always be there for her.

That memory steeled his nerve.  Belle deserved to know that she was loved.  If she didn’t love him back he could deal with that when it came.  Rumple was so involved in his pep talk that he didn’t feel the subtle shift in the air that meant Belle had appeared or smell the sweet tang of her magic.  So he was caught totally off guard when stepped in front of him.  She smiled and laughed gently as he stuttered and blushed, her giggle drew out his own chuckle.  It wasn’t often that she could sneak up on him anymore.

Belle was still smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  “Hey.”  She said, brushing her nose against his.

“Hey.”  He replied, his hands automatically settling on her hips.  “How was your deal?”

“A good one.” Belle smiled, he smiled back.  The reputation of the Dark One’s deals was nothing but lies, as Rumple had learned.  Belle used her magic – dark as it was – for as much good as she could, but a price needed to be extracted or it wouldn’t work.  Good deals where when the person got what they wanted and the price was minor.  If it had been up to Belle those would be the only kinds of deals she made, but desperate souls would do anything, and sometimes a bad deal was the lesser of two evils.  “In fact,” She continued.  “It was so good I think I deserve a reward.”

“Oh?”  Rumple smirked playfully.  “And what might that be?”

“How about a kiss?” She whispered with a smile, leaning up to capture his lips with hers.

Rumple hummed happily, thinking about how right it felt to have Belle in his arms, how much he loved everything about her.  From her quick mind to her musical laugh, she was such a beautiful soul, even with the curse of the Dark One bound to her.  As he kissed her he realized something odd was happening, a warm tingling sensation was spreading through him, it felt like warmth and joy and love.  Those weren’t odd things to feel when kissing Belle, but he’d certainly never felt it in such an overpowering force before, he almost felt dazed from the power of it.

Pulling back he looked at Belle, wanting to ask her if she’d felt it too, but when he saw her his eyes widened in shock.

“B-Belle.”  He breathed.  “You’re changing!”

“W-what?”  She asked, her eyes fluttering open.

She looked almost dazed as the unnatural white of her skin melted away to reveal a more pink hued shade of flesh and when he was able to see her eyes he realized they were a different shade of blue.  Just as striking but somehow more human, they suited her, they were filled with Belle’s spark.  He was confused and scared, was Belle sick?  Could the Dark One get sick?  Was it some kind of magic illness?  Then she smiled and he relaxed a little, if this was dire she wouldn’t be smiling.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”  Rumple asked worriedly.

“More than,” Belle said, her eyes shining.  “True loves kiss.”  She breathed, her eyes searching his.  “This means it’s True Love!”

He felt his jaw go slack before a wide grin pulled at his face.  “True Love?  You love me?” Rumple whispered, barely able to hold back his joy.

“Of course I love you!”  Belle replied, her eyes shining.  She began to laugh.  “And you love me!”

“I do!  Oh Belle, I’ve loved you for so long!” Picking her up he spun her around the both of them laughing and trading I love you’s over and over again between sweet kisses.