DarklyBound

Central Location for all my fandoms and interests. You can find me AO3 at DarklyBound.

[darklybound]

Welcome!

Hello, you can call me Murmur or DarklyBound. I'm a (25+) old Tumblr RPer who no longer has time to RP, but still loves to write and dabble in deviancy with little time or energy. Recently, I decided to come back to Tumblr to create a 'one place for everything' blog, where I can get into fandoms once again and appease my obsessions as they come. :D I am always open to discussing raving about anything fandom, so feel free to send asks or DMs. My Discord is also available upon request. You can find me on AO3 at DarklyBound. My current obsession is Rumbelle from Once Upon a Time, and I am planning to start rewatching the show from Season 1.

Thank you to everyone who has made me feel welcomed in whatever fandom the waves of my maniacal energy takes me.

My Fanfics

The Lost Beauty and the Broken Beast - M - Ongoing: 6/10 Chapters, Murder Mystery

Rumplestiltskin wakes from the curse 10 years earlier than expected. He has memories of Mr. Gold falling in love with Isabelle French. But were those memories a product of the curse, or could they have been real? How could they have been real with Storybrooke still locked in time? Nothing was supposed to change in Storybrooke, certainly not a scorned relationship between the town’s Beauty and the town’s Beast. Yet something did change, something he never foresaw, and Isabelle French is at the heart of it. Rumplestiltskin will need to solve the mystery to discover who or what has caused fate to change. Storybrooke had better be prepared because he will discover the truth about Belle, and whether she is dead or alive, someone is going to pay for this.

A Conversation a Day - Rating varies Per Fic - Series: Ongoing 1/? fics

This series is where I will attempt to write a one-shot each day. The fics will be 1,000 words or less and center on a conversation between characters. The fics won't be connected unless stated otherwise. This is a writing exercise I'm starting so that I can practice writing shorter fics and dialogue. Started on February 14, 2026

Under The Candle - E - Completed: 4/4 Chapters, Inspired by Golden Cuffs by Kelyon - Dark Castle BDSM

Belle and Rumplestiltskin have finally come to an understanding. Belle is learning to accept her sexual desires, and Rumple is confused and awed by this little human woman who was not meant to seep into his heart. While he battles his own doubts about their relationship, Belle is ready to explore her sexual desires! What will the Dark One, the most powerful magic user in the Enchanted Forest, do when Belle is the one to instigate a Pain Game? Will the sweet noblewoman be able to handle what Rumple has in mind?

The Festival of the Dark Moon - E - Completed: 10/10 Chapters, Secret Santa Gift 2025 for threepwoodMarley

The Midwinter Festival was over. Rumplestiltskin refused to join the celebration, convinced he would not be welcome in the small village beneath the Dark Castle. Besides, he was busy! He had to prepare for the Dark Moon ritual and had no time for such frivolity. But on the night of the new moon, Belle swept into his lab with an invitation from Darkhaven to join them for the Festival of the Dark Moon. Well, that couldn’t be a coincidence.

Home is Where Your Heart is Found - T - Completed: 1/1 Chapters - Fluffapalooza 2026

When Belle realized she'd forgotten Valentine's Day on her way home, she knew she didn't have time to get Rumple anything. They'd been busy with Gideon learning to crawl, her opening the library, and Rumplestiltskin working late on a project. The romantic holiday had slipped her mind amid the chaos. Rumple never said anything about it, so maybe he'd forgotten, too? Belle didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this.

What The Fuck? - T - Completed: 1/1 Chapters (Oneshot/Ficlet) - Dark Castle

Being the most powerful sorcerer in all the realm isn't an excuse for a rundown estate! Good thing the Dark One recently acquired a maid. So why is Rumpelstiltskin so surprised when Belle starts to revitalize the Dark Castle?

Rumbelleshowdown 2025 - G & M - Completed: 3 Works (Series)

All the fics I entered into the Rumbelleshowdown 2025 under the pseudo DancingFey

Longing - M - Completed: 1/1 Chapters (Oneshot/Ficlet) - Thunderbolts Fanfic

Movie night started like all the others. No one could agree on what to watch. They bickered about it as Bucky did the dishes. They would eventually pick something, only for John and Ava to interrupt the movie with an argument. Months together as an official team, and they have yet to watch a movie all the way through. It was routine at this point, comfortable, safe. But when Bucky suddenly drops the plate in the sink with haunted eyes and abruptly leaves the floor, none of them know what to do. Bob, knowing more than he should from being inside all their heads during the Void incident, decides to go after Bucky. Once the two come back and Bucky reveals what happened, the Thunderbolts are faced with a choice: reciprocate and reveal one of their own demons, or don't and keep themselves distant. Does this ragtag team of broken souls trust each other enough to take that leap of faith?

[darklybound]

Rating: M

Setting: Storybrooke (Cursed)

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin

Summary:

Storybrooke had better be prepared because he will discover the truth about Belle, and whether she is dead or alive, someone is going to pay for this.

Read on AO3

Rumplestiltskin followed the sheriff to the jailhouse. Thankfully, his car wasn’t too far away, so they didn’t have to walk. Mr. Gold had thought the only way he’d ever ride in a police car was in handcuffs. Instead, he was riding shotgun alongside a man who was deceiving himself into believing he had a heart capable of pitying the town’s monster, even though his chest was empty.

He swore he could hear the Fates laughing at him once more.

They parked outside the station and walked inside. As he crossed the bullpen, a loud noise from one of the cells caught his attention.

In the southernmost cell, the very dwarf he wanted to interrogate was sleeping on the cot, snoring the day away. A smile curled at his lips as he stopped. “Sheriff, why is there a man napping in one of your cells?”

Graham looked at the cell Rumple gestured toward. “Ah, that’s just Leroy. He’s sleeping it off in the drunk tank.” Graham winced, his brows furrowing with concern.

Rumple tilted his head. “This is not an uncommon occurrence, I take it?”

The sheriff nodded. “Yes. No. I mean, Leroy’s known to have one too many. He’s stayed here a few times, but ever since—” His eyes widened as if he remembered who he was talking to. “Ah, I mean. He’s been in here more often than not, is all.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. Leroy could be drinking himself to an early grave from grief over losing a close friend, or he could be drinking to ease a guilty conscience.

“I’m afraid our talk will have to wait, Sheriff. There’s a matter I must discuss with your inmate.” Continue on AO3

[rumbelleshowdown]

Hi hello, please be sure to vote for our Round 2 winners 🎉🎉

Important! I am extending voting by a couple days due to work related schedules, so voting will end Friday, May 8th at 11:59 EST. Choose who continues, plus an extra lucky writer to even everything out 🍀✨

If you're having trouble with the ask box, please send your ballet to [email protected] 🙏🗳️❤️

[rumbelleshowdown]

Lord Gold

Author: WiltedRose Group G: kiss on the nose; town meeting; dead tree

A/N A sequel to Lady Rose

⭐️⭐️

Rumplestiltskin felt the connection snap into place.

“I’ve got you now.” The Dark One smirked as his magic coiled around the witch.

The hearth spat and crackled at his back, stretching his shadow across the bed where his target materialized in a cloud of maroon smoke.

His eyes darted to her chest—not to leer at her like the vultures in Avlonea’s court, but to track the rise and fall of each breath she took. She was alive. He hadn’t been too late.

Lady Rose was finally within his grasp—safe behind the Dark Castle’s wards. 

He slid down in his chair, exhausted and relieved. 

Holding back a teleportation spell as he Dream Walked into her mind, then using the connection to set her magical signature as the target of the suspended spell, had drained even the Dark One’s magic. 

Belle woke with a gasp before he could recover. He shifted instantly, crossing his legs and clasping his hands in his lap as if he’d been idly waiting for her to join him.

Her cerulean gaze met his as the gold faded from his eyes.

“Welcome back, dearie,” he tittered. 

“Where am I?” She groaned. 

“You, my dear, are in the Dark Castle.” He paused for dramatic effect. “My rather large estate. That little hunting party won’t find you here, princess. We’re miles from the nearest town, and no one enters my lands without my knowledge.” He pointed to the bed and chuckled. “It’s a wee bit better than sleeping under a dead tree, don’t you think?” 

“Thank you. You saved my life.” Her lip trembled with unshed tears. 

His chest fluttered at her sincerity, but he dismissed it with a flick of his wrist. “I couldn’t let my most promising student waste away in a cell. Talent is so hard to find these days. Besides, there’s still the matter of my—” 

“Price,” she interrupted. “It seems magic has come to collect mine. My wanted posters will be in every town across the Alliance by now.” A tear slid down her cheek. “What hurt most was seeing the hatred in my Papa’s eyes.” 

“You get used to it,” he replied honestly, his tone softening. 

She wiped away her tears and sorrow. In their place, a resolve as immovable as a mountain grew. “Name your price.” 

“You will stay here, with me, forever.” 

She didn’t hesitate. 

“I accept.” 

🥀

“Rumplestiltskin!” Belle shouted as he walked through the front door, her mop splashing as she set it back in the bucket. “When I agreed to stay with you, I expected more spells and potions, not mopping floors.” 

His new apprentice had finally snapped. For two weeks since her arrival, he had treated her like a maid, confining her indoors and instructing her to clean the castle from top to bottom. She lasted longer than he had expected. 

He was impressed. 

“Not as glamorous as you’re used to, princess?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t mind the work, but you were the one who said it would be a waste for a ‘promising student’ to rot in a cell. So, when are you going to teach me about the artifacts you have me dusting?”

He wagged a finger in front of her face. “When. I. Say so.” 

She swatted his hand. “Why am I really doing this? Do I need to attune to the castle’s magic or something?” 

He smiled and answered in his highest-pitched voice, “The place was filthy.” 

Belle slapped his arm. “Rumple! That’s not funny!” 

He laughed and dodged out of her range. “Lesson two hundred and twelve, never trust a sorcerer.” 

She huffed, but he could see her fighting back a smile. “I should have known you’d pull something like this.” She poked her finger against his chest. “Magic lessons, Rumple, tomorrow.” 

He bowed. “As my lady wishes.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Where were you today? I haven’t seen you since breakfast. I was starting to worry that one of your deals had gone wrong.”

“No deal, unfortunately, but an extremely tedious town meeting,” he replied, turning to hang his jackalope-hide cloak on the coat rack. 

“What?” Belle sputtered. 

He raised an eyebrow. “A town meeting? Dull gatherings that drag on far longer than they should because of posturing. They’re where officials discuss taxes, crop yields, changes to laws, and such. You were a princess, weren’t you?”

“I know what a town meeting is, but why were you at one? You said we were alone here!”

“Nah-ah, I said we were miles from town, not that there were none.” 

Belle scrunched her nose as she always did when she didn’t like something, but she couldn’t find an argument against it. “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

“The village is on my land. It’s the only settlement. Why wouldn’t I be there?” 

“You actually own this place?” she asked, her eyes widening.

In a puff of smoke, a scroll unfurled in his hands. Belle’s mouth opened in shock as she grabbed the deed. 

“This is really old.” 

“It has been three hundred years since I obtained it.” 

She looked up with a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “How did—”

“Ah-ah-ah!” He waved his hands, and the parchment disappeared. “Less talking and more cleaning. “ 

Before she could argue, he teleported away in a puff of smoke. 

Belle threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “You could have told me you were a noble, Rumplestiltskin! Or should I call you Lord Gold? Honestly!” She kept ranting into the empty hall, knowing he was listening. 

🥀

From his tower window, Rumplestiltskin watched the forest’s edge, his thumb tracing the chip on the teacup Belle had dropped on her first day in the castle. He hadn’t been able to tear himself away since she left hours earlier to gather ingredients for the first potion she would be brewing alone. 

It was the first time she’d left the Dark Castle since arriving over a month ago. 

The voices in his head cackled that she had left him, as everyone else in his life had. 

The sun was halfway below the horizon when he spotted her emerging from the treeline. Rumplestiltskin ran down the stairs, two steps at a time, forgetting, in his panic, that he could teleport. 

He straightened his vest and ran his sharp nails through his curls before the castle door opened on its own for its mistress. 

Belle walked in, head bowed over the cloth-covered basket, whispering to it as if sharing a secret.

“Speaking to plants, now, are we?” 

Belle squeaked, hiding the basket behind her. “Rum! You scared me.” 

He hummed, leaning left and then right to catch a glimpse behind her. Belle mirrored him step for step, pivoting sharply to keep the basket out of his reach. “Bring back a lot of herbs, did you?”

“Enough that I’d better start prepping now if I’m to finish the potion by tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She tried to step around him, but he blocked her path. 

“Ah, ah, princess. Not so fast,” Rumple chirped, pointing behind her. “What’s in the basket?” 

Belle gnawed on her lower lip. “I’ll show you if you promise not to hurt it.” 

“Did the witch capture a little beastie?” He wouldn’t be surprised if a woodland critter had followed Belle home. 

“Maybe?” She sighed, pulling the willow basket in front of her and lifting the cloth. 

Inside, a little white dove was curled up, blood dripping down its broken wing. 

“Belle—” 

“I know,” she interrupted his mounting lecture. “But look, I think he belongs to someone.” 

She gently lifted the feathers at the dove’s neck, uncovering a small silver ring nested around its throat.

“Don’t aviarists put the bands around the birds’ feet? How strange.” 

“See? I couldn’t leave him to die. He must belong to someone. Please, Rumple, can’t you save him?” 

Her pleading eyes tore at what was left of his blackened heart. “Fine, but in return, you’ll sweep every speck of dirt from the castle.” 

Belle laughed. “I think you liked it when I was your maid.” 

His face burned as he sputtered, “All magic—”

“Comes at a price, as you’ve said. Repeatedly, every day,” she teased. 

Rumplestiltskin swept his hand over the dove. Lilac magic seeped into its plumage, and after a moment, its wing twitched. The dove lifted its head, stared at him, then turned to look up at Belle and cooed. 

“You’re going to be okay, little Estel.” Belle pressed a kiss to the bird’s head. Estel seemed to settle at the sound of the name, leaning into her touch and chirping softly as she traced a finger along his feathers.

Rumplestiltskin’s veins burned with bitter jealousy, feeding the darkness until it roared for blood. “I’ve changed my mind,” he snapped, eyes locked on the creature. “I’m going to roast the flying rat. It’ll make a much better dinner than a pet.”

“Oh, hush, you don’t mean that.” Belle looked at him, still beaming with joy, and leaned up to kiss him on the nose. “Thank you.” 

The darkness hissed in protest as her touch doused the flames like ice on a burn. His body froze, breath catching in his throat as his pulse hammered against his eardrums. He searched her eyes for the slightest flicker of malice or deceit, but found only gratitude, happiness, and an emotion he refused to believe could be love.

Neither of them noticed the dove begin to glow a soft, pulsing amber.

[darklybound]

I loved that you continued this AU! 😍 Witch!Belle is such an interesting idea. But of course, being the Dark One’s student is never straightforward or easy, and Belle cannot escape her fate of being his maid 😂Their banter is spot on! I laughed at all the jokes and easter eggs. Great job! 💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

She Doesn’t Even Go Here

Author: Olivetheotherreindeer Group G: kiss on the nose, town meeting, dead tree

⭐️⭐️

“For the next order of business, the zoning crew will be coming around and putting notices on doors for any residential or business that will be affected by upcoming asphalt repairs and sewer system inspection.”

Mr. Gold was growing increasingly irritated as he sat and waited for Regina’s monthly farce of a town meeting to be over, he was close to signaling Sheriff Swan to arrest him to get them both out of their misery why he had to attend these asinine things was beyond him. 

Regina had gone onto the next point when someone barged into the auditorium making the doors creak loudly, everyone in the room turned to look at who was coming in so late except Mr. Gold, he was unaffected no matter who it was.

Until that person stopped at the aisle he was sitting in and cleared her throat, “Excuse me, could I squeeze in?”

He felt eyes on them, no one ever sat near him in these meetings, he sat in an empty aisle, with plenty of other rows of empty seats around, he liked it that way and so did the other townspeople.

He wondered if just ignoring her would get her to go away, she was either new in town, or just visiting and either way, she would learn his reputation soon enough.

A tap on his shoulder jarred him to where he whipped around to look at the offending newcomer who had the audacity to speak to him, let alone touch him.

“Can I help you with something dearie?” 

His words flew out of his mouth before he actually registered the woman, who didn’t flinch at his rudeness. She looked at him with a shy smile and big glittering blue eyes.

“I said excuse me, I didn’t want to just scoot in front of you possibly having my rear in your face without your consent.” Her words were tinged with amusement as he became flustered, a blush streaking across his face.

“Do you not see all these other empty chairs around you?!” He snapped, gesturing with his cane.

Her eyes narrowed, her friendly smile faltered for a moment, “Well I wanted to sit next to someone from town so I could ask them what I missed without being conspicuous but you’ve ruined my chances of that.” She pointedly looked at the other people in the room who had turned to watch their exchange at his loud protest.

“Perhaps you should make an effort to be on time for meetings so as not to make a spectacle of yourself when you come clattering in late.” His voice was harsh, but he was trying to gain back control of the conversation. 

“Can I sit here or not?” She asked, finally dropping the smile and crossing her arms over her chest, her eyebrows arched in a challenge.

Mr. Gold sighed in irritation, and to get her to stop drawing attention to them he rose from his seat to let her scoot in.

Her arms dropped to her sides and a smile brightened her face again, “Thank you.” 

She went to scoot in the aisle, her red heels clicking with each step, her sweet perfume wafting through the air, making his knees quiver right before he sat.

“What have I missed, can I look at your program?” The woman asked, leaning close to him and looking at the talking points in his lap.

“If you must.” He muttered, trying to rigidly ignore the way her shoulder pressed into his as she leaned closer.

He studied her as she looked at the program, some of her auburn hair was falling past her shoulders over the dark blue dress she was wearing. Her eyes searched the program to find what topic they were on, she glanced up at Regina.

“Next we’ll discuss the construction scheduled to make the beginning demolition on the big tree in Willow Park, it has been -”

To his horror the woman who had accosted him raised her hand, “Excuse me! I don’t think the old tree should be demolished.”

Mr. Gold felt his cheeks heating as everyone turned to face her and subsequently him.

He dipped closer to her and snapped, “You can’t object to an agenda topic of a town meeting where you don’t live dearie.” 

As if she heard his remarks to the woman Regina smirked on stage and pointed at the woman, “Belle go ahead and stand, now would also be a good time to introduce you.”

The woman, Belle, smirked at him as she stood, and gave a little wave to everyone as Regina spoke, “Everyone this is Belle French, she recently moved here to open the library as the new curator.”

Warbles of greetings filled the air.

“It’s nice to be here, I love StoryBrooke so far. But as I was saying, I don’t think the tree should be demolished, it’s a lovely tree, and there seems to be something living in the trunk.”

Mr. Gold eyed her, “Well it’s too bad we don’t have a forest nearby that a wild animal could relocate to.”

Belle swivelled her gaze on him and glared but before she could speak Regina took the spotlight again, “What a great suggestion Mr. Gold, Belle, it seems like you have a volunteer to help you investigate. And the tree has a bacterial disease that I don’t want infecting other vegetation nearby, that’s why demolition is scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“So if you’re wanting to relocate whatever animal is in the tree, I suggest you get to it tonight.” Regina added before moving onto the next topic as Belle sank back into her seat.

Mr. Gold could feel the disappointment radiating off of her, and he sighed deeply, before leaning towards her, “I hope you’re up to date on your rabies vaccine.”

Belle’s eyes lit up and she grinned, “Tetanus too.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, “Wonderful.”

***

“Sorry, if I um, embarrassed you earlier at the meeting.” Belle stumbled over her words a bit,  as they continued to wait on the park bench across from the topic of their stakeout. Waiting for some movement or noise from the tree trunk’s vicinity.

He looked up at her in surprise and was met with her sheepish expression.

“I didn’t think asking to sit by you would cause such a scandal with the others.” She added.

He chuckled, “In case you didn’t notice dearie, I’m not the most friendly person around, and people tend to steer clear of me.”

Belle raised an eyebrow at him, “Except for me.”

His brow furrowed, “Yes, except for you.”

A twig broke in the park and they both froze. After not hearing or seeing more movement they turned back to one another.

“I should be the one apologizing, I shouldn’t have been so rude. I was just taken by surprise that you would want to sit by me when you had your pick of the auditorium.”

Belle hummed thoughtfully, “Well, it seems like I picked right. Otherwise I’d be out here alone.”

He snorted at that, “Snow and the other do-gooders would’ve probably volunteered.”

She leaned towards him, bumping her shoulder against his, “Maybe, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Before he could agree they heard a hissing noise.

They both rose from the bench and walked over towards the tree, devising a plan as they got closer.

“Shine your phone’s flashlight into the top hollow, and it should light up the whole interior. I’ll look into the bottom one and grab whatever is in there.” Belle whispered.

Grabbing his phone and tapping the appropriate spots, the bright flashlight came on and he hovered it near the hollow towards the top of the tree after she was kneeling with her hands ready to catch anything that ran out.

“Oh hello there!” Belle exclaimed softly, speaking to whatever creature was there.

He watched as she reached inside the hollow with both hands unafraid as he held the light.

Belle carefully pulled the little creature out of the hollow, feeling it whine and cry against her touch, she wrapped it in her arms, and peeked in the hollow again, making sure it was empty, before leaning back and standing up.

“Shh shh,” she cooed, Mr. Gold looked at the now exposed animal, the moonlight and his phone’s flashlight to guide his sight.  

A little possum looked back at them, just the size to be away from its mother on its own, but something seemed to be wrong with one of its feet.

Belle reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a hat, and gently placed the little possum into the makeshift pouch.

“I wonder if it has gotten hurt and then has just been sitting in there. Poor baby.” She murmured, leaning down and kissing the little the shaking marsupial on the nose.

“Don’t kiss it, you’ll get rabies from the little beast .” He snapped at her.

“Possums don’t carry rabies, they get a bad reputation, just because people think they’re ugly.” Belle rubbed its little head with one finger gently, and Mr. Gold felt something grip his heart.

To keep busy he switched off the light of his phone and pocketed it before offering her an arm.

She snaked her arm through his as they walked towards his Cadillac, the possum closely cradled against her.

“Hmm, you need a name don’t you, how about Dearie?” she suggested.

Mr. Gold laughed as they reached the Cadillac and he opened her door for her, “How about we discuss it over dinner? My treat.” He offered.

Belle smiled brightly at him, “It’s a date.” 

[darklybound]

This was so sweet! Gold is a grouch because he’s not used to people talking to him, but Belle pushes right through his shields! I love how, despite their encounter, when she finally sits next to him, she goes back to being cheerful and asking him questions. Though I must say they probably should have called animal control! Belle, what if it had been dangerous? 😅 I guess you have Gold to protect you 💪 Naming the possum, Dearie, is such a brilliant idea! I hope they go on that date 💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

Love & Other Bedlam

Author: pizzapizza Group F: unlikely savior; tangerine; aim a little higher

⭐️⭐️

On a moonless summer's eve, high in the mountains of the Black Forest, a warm, starry wind stirred through the Dark Castle's gardens and carried its sweetness into the chamber above.

Notes of lavender and lily drifted through the lancet windows—through stained-glass chimes, rosy cream veils, and the honey-brown locks of a girl long past her bedtime.

"But Papa, my doll," she pouted. "My magic ate it. I can't get it back."

Rumplestiltskin glanced at her dwindling pile of playthings as he tucked her in. He thought of Belle's disappearing books. Of half the stores missing from his tower. He hadn't any luck retrieving what her magic "ate," either.

"It'll turn up, darling." He kissed her forehead—her small, silky cheek. His eyebrows rose as the dog jumped up, bedding down beside her. "Sultan will suffice in the meantime, hm?"

"What if he gets eaten, too?"

"Goodnight, Lettie."

At the door, as he hushed the candelabra on her mantel, she called for him again.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"What if my magic never listens to me?"

Rumplestiltskin's lips thinned. That was the question.

"We'll make it listen," he told her. "Go to sleep, now."

Lettie rolled over, snuggled into Sultan's fur, and sighed.

"Goodnight, Papa."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

- - - 

Gideon was born with magic. Lettie was not.

So, when this contented little girl started spouting smoke and sparkles six weeks ago, it was rather alarming. Belle feared a curse, but, upon closer study, Rumplestiltskin determined their daughter was merely a late bloomer.

And her magic was unruly. Chaotic.

This, coming from the Dark One—six weeks on.

In the West Wing, Rumplestiltskin found his chamber door ajar, an indulgent amber glow spilling into the corridor.

Inside, firelight breathed over polished wood and brocade, clock faces and silver. A robust fire rippled with purple wisps threading its flames—a summertide spell to temper its heat whilst preserving its radiance for long, balmy nights.

At the table near the balcony, Belle pored over a letter in a shapeless cotton shift, her hair swept up to relish the night air on her neck. On a scalloped tea plate between a goblet and vase of wilting wildflowers lay slices of the little orange fruit she favored of late. She ate another without looking up, absently sucking the juice from her fingertips.

Rumplestiltskin smiled.

To fathom all the ways the love of this headstrong princess had saved him was beyond comprehension. All the ways she still did. All the ways she still could. Her redamancy was nothing short of an anomaly.

Belle was never meant to happen to someone like him, whatever True Love deigned.

Yet here they were, in the middle of a life together.

A soft golden shimmer revived the tired bouquet out of the corner of Belle's eye.

She grinned—at the flowers, then him.

"Lettie down?" she asked.

"Finally." He glanced at the letter, already unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Is that from Gideon?"

"It is," Belle said. "My father is taking him on a hunt next week."

Rumplestiltskin snorted as he opened the wardrobe. Gideon was as much a hunter as he was a milkmaid. He looked over his shoulder at Belle, waiting for her retort, but the twist in her smile betrayed her. Rumplestiltskin, for once, took the high road.

"He's ten. A hunt will do him good."

"Because you benefited from many a hunt in your youth," Belle quipped.

Rumplestiltskin smirked. His long lace cravat came off with a swish, the hem of his burgundy shirt freed with a great, end-of-day sigh.

"The summer will pass quickly," he said. "The library will be there come autumn."

"Our library? Or my father's?"

Rumplestiltskin stilled, heart thudding. Belle's gaze fell away when he turned, her thumb worrying the rough edge of the parchment.

"She isn't improving, is she?"

A terrible ache gripped Rumplestiltskin's chest. He wanted to tell her it was safe for Gideon to come home. But he would not invite her despair with half-truths.

"She's a child, Belle."

"How did she do today?"

Rumplestiltskin hesitated. But the breeze answered for him—ruffling the wide neck of his shirt enough to bare the bright purple scorch mark over his heart.

Damn it.

"Wait—"

Belle backed him into the wardrobe. Its doors clacked, a handle jabbing his spine. He arched away with a grimace, then tensed when the cool air hit his skin from her pulling his shirt aside. Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes.

Must she gasp so loudly?

"Oh, all right," he relented. "Her aim… stands to improve."

"Does it hurt?"

"'Tis but a scratch."

Belle shook her head, fingers skimming where Lettie's agitated magic still thrummed under his skin—where the gold flecks she counted as she fell asleep had been burned away.

Rumplestiltskin gently covered her hand with his own. He pressed it to the mark, letting her feel his heartbeat beneath the magic's dull pulse.

"The Dark One was struck by a five-year-old's rogue energy blast," he muttered, wry but warm. "I think I'll live."

"What happened?" she demanded. "Exactly?"

"I had her adjust for a target. She aimed higher, but"—there's the rub—"her magic didn't listen."

Belle sighed. "What if it never does, Rumple?"

A small, helpless smile surfaced. He smoothed a fallen curl back into place. Admired her brilliant blue eyes as the fire cracked over the forest's evensong.

"Oh, ye of little faith." He drew her close, pliant under the warmth of her weight and the peace it put in his heart. "You sound just like your daughter."

"Be it I was blithe…"

Rumplestiltskin caught her face when she tried to look away. She pursed her lips as he cupped her jaw and reunited their gaze, stroking her cheek with his thumb until the corner of her mouth rose.

Courage, dear heart.

"Have any of your books returned?" he asked.

A dim smile. "No. Any of your ingredients?"

"No. Though I'd settle for the Jabberwocky heart."

Belle's fingers closed around his wrist, grazing his pulse. A knot cinched in her stomach as her gaze strayed to the scorch mark again.

"What does it say that the Dark One can't control his own child's magic?"

Rumplestiltskin kissed the crease between her furrowed brows.

"It breeds patience, my love."

Belle closed her eyes as their foreheads touched. She breathed him in, noses brushing, and finally settled into his embrace.

"She will be fine," he said.

"I know she will."

"I promise."

Belle tilted her mouth up just so. The hand at her cheek slipped into her hair as he obliged, capturing her sticky-sweet lips in a firm, reassuring kiss. When it broke, an uncertain breath lingered between them—stillness weighed against stirrings.

Rumplestiltskin kissed her again.

A chord opened. From it, a song.

Belle stepped in when she heard it, hands climbing his bared chest with heat and hunger, a swell of fervor too sharp to ignore. Her touch encouraged his own, and he angled her face to deepen their kiss, to savor the citrus and sweet red on her tongue.

To slowly sip her fire until they frayed beyond restraint.

A velvety growl rumbled low in his throat. Rumplestiltskin tore away.

He hooked an arm behind her knees and scooped her up—"Rumple!"—whirling toward the bed with a wicked grin. Her glittering eyes darkened in return, piercing low, stoking his appetite.

Lettie did want a little sister—

"Papa, I did it!"

Rumplestiltskin pitched forward, feet tangling. Belle clung to his neck with a squeak as he stumbled, expecting the crash, but by some miracle, he didn't drop her. They looked at one another once he regained his footing, chests heaving, then turned toward their daughter's voice.

"Lettie—?"

Rumplestiltskin froze.

In the middle of the bed, Lettie held up her doll, seated atop the sprawling mountain of things her magic had "eaten": books, blocks, bottles, brushes. Three tapestries. A suit of armor. Chicken feed and candlewicks. Behind her, Sultan sniffed and barked, tail wagging furiously as he unearthed his favorite ball.

Belle slowly brought her hand to her mouth.

Lettie stood, catching herself on Sultan's back when she wobbled. Pewter pots and loose buttons trickled and clanged underfoot, but she posed proudly, her little chin held high.

"I did it all by myself!" she said. "I yelled at my magic, and I made it listen!"

Rumplestiltskin blinked.

"…You yelled at it."

"Yes!"

Rumplestiltskin's eyes shifted.

How, precisely, did one yell at magic?

Belle snickered as he set her down. He shot her a mildly exasperated look—one that clearly said we did this.

She beamed and hid her face in his neck, shaking with silent laughter as their arms wrapped around one another. It melted his bewilderment into beguilement; gods help whoever crossed their daughter.

"She acts just like you," Rumplestiltskin said.

Belle lifted her head. "Me?"

Sultan barked at something. Lettie bent to pick it up.

The dagger's glint caught Rumplestiltskin's eye—and he lunged.

"Papa, it has your name on it—!"

"Give me that!"

[darklybound]

Oh my goodness! This was great! 😍 I love fics where they stayed in EF and had kids 💖 I bet it’s tearing poor Gideon apart that he can’t help his little sis! 😭 How Lettie thinks about magic is perfect for a child, and I loved how she fixed it by yelling at it! Oh, poor those who cross her indeed! Also, the ending with the dagger had me laughing so hard! Poor Rumple, truly wrapped around his little girl’s fingers!

[rumbelleshowdown]

The Newest Addition

Author: Strawberry Teacups Group E: dancing for no reason, gardener! Gold/Rumple, chess. 

A/N: Sequel to The Oldest Emotion

⭐️⭐️

“See, Gideon?” Rumplestiltskin held the white piece up to the toddler’s eye level. “ This is the knight. It can move like this.” He placed the piece on the board , moving it up two squares, then across forming a small L.  “Isn’t that wonderful?

“Horsey!” Within seconds, Gideon grabbed the piece and preceded to stick it in his mouth.

Rumple chuckled, wiping off the knight. “ You know, some days you don’t make things easy for your papa.” 

Belle looked up from her book, giving Rumple a rather amused smile.  “ Are you still trying to teach him how to play chess?” she asked.

Rumple ruffled Gideon’s hair, then sat on the floor next to him. “ I learned to play when I was a child and I taught Bae. Call it a tradition.” 

Belle giggled, placing Gideon on her lap. “ I assume, Mr. Gold, that you and Bae were both past the age of needing nappies when you learned chess.”  She kissed Rumple’s cheek, then stood up , holding Gideon carefully. “ As for this one, I think it’s time for his nap.” She quickly added in  a whisper. “ But if you still want to play…” 

Rumple smiled.  “ If I recall our games back in the Dark Castle, you were quite a formidable opponent. “ 

“ Is that a yes then?” 

Rumple laid the board on the coffee table.  “ Black or white, dearie?” 

___________________________________________

The lights in the Golds’ bedroom were dimmed as Belle sat up in bed, nose buried deep in her book. The clock on the bedside table read 8:15. 

Rumple leaned back, resting his head on her shoulder. “Is Gideon finally asleep?” 

Belle put a finger in her book to save her place.  “ It took me reading three books, but yes.  I’ve nearly memorized Paddington Bear.”  

Rumple gave her an impish grin, noting the book in her hand.  “ Pride and Prejudice.  Dreaming of being courted by Mr. Darcy , are we?” 

“Why would I? I have you.”  

“ I’m glad for that.” Another smirk, then a flick of the wrist as soft  music poured from the bedside clock.  “ Unless , Mr Darcy could do this.” Sliding out of bed, Rumple took  his hand in hers before pulling Belle close into  a tango dip. 

Belle gasped. “What’s gotten into you?”

He kissed her hand.  “I do not believe I need a reason, love. “  He pulled her closer as they swayed,  the music  changing to a slightly up-tempo tune. “ I have lived for a very long time, Belle.  But this past year. With you. With our son. Has made me the happiest I’ve ever been.” A final kiss as the music stopped and both of them collapsed onto the bed.  “ I love you, sweetheart. “ 

Belle couldn’t hold back her happy tears when the light went out and both husband and wife snuggled together.  

“Good night, Mrs. Gold.” 

“Good night Rumple.” 

___________________________________________

Rumple: Meet me at the diner for lunch? 

Belle read the text message twice  before typing a reply. For a Tuesday morning, the library  was nearly deserted save for herself, Gideon nestled in his pack-and-play, and Snow’s class currently browsing the shelves. 

Belle: We’ll leave as soon as possible.  Not very crowded today. </i>

Belle:  But I don’t feel well. 

Rumple: Shall I come to you then? Or perhaps come take Gideon home ? 

Belle: No. No I’m 

Belle dropped her phone,  reached under the desk for the trash can, and heaved.

___________________________________________

“And you’re sure you don’t mind watching Gideon again, Emma?” Belle sat up from her nest of blankets on the sofa, a small trash can placed  on the floor next to it. “I mean,  this is your day off. “ 

Emma hoisted Gideon’s diaper bag onto one shoulder.  “ Trust me, it’s fine.  Not a lot of need for sheriffing since Storybrooke cancelled its subscription to the Villains of the Month Club.”  

Belle nodded.  “ I know,  I’m still getting…un-used to all the chaos. Well, except for Gideon being into everything.”  

Emma scoffed, tickling Gideon.  “ Please. He’s nothing. Our living room still looks like the Crayola factory exploded from the last time Ashley brought Alexandra over. But, I’ve gotta ask.” She looked at Belle seriously.  “Are you okay?  Mom told me what happened at the library. Is anything else going on?” 

Belle shook her head , before a sudden wave of nausea engulfed her.  “I don’t know.  This has been going on for the past few—-- oh!” She reached for the trash can. “ Sorry.” 

Emma shrugged.   “So it’s just the puking then?” 

Belle stood up before falling back onto the sofa.  “ I’ve been dizzy. And a bit more tired.” 

“ Is there a possibility you might be, you know?” 

Belle’s face went white.  “ We’ve , um,  we’ve not been trying to have another baby.  “  She took a breath in.  “ Not that I wouldn’t want any more. But it’s just, with everything the past year, we’ve been…” She searched for the right word.  “Happier.  Rumple and I  and Gideon.  I’ve been trying to relax. To just enjoy all of this.” 

Emma gave Belle a knowing nod, then placed Gideon into his stroller. “ Still, it can’t hurt to  get tested.” She bent down to secure the toddler. “ Come on, Gid. Let’s go to the park.” 

___________________________________________

Sunday afternoon found the Gold family outside: a blanket spread on the grass with lunch from Granny’s , complete with ice tea for the adults and a sippy cup of milk for Gideon.  

“ Beautiful, aren’t they?” Rumple gestured towards the newly-blooming rose bushes.    “ Extraordinary things, roses.” 

Belle nodded, then sipped at her tea.  “ And you’re growing them without magic? You never seemed to have a, what is it called, a green thumb?” 

Rumple picked up a French fry.  “ Belle, you knew me when more than just my thumbs were green. And yet I can still find ways to surprise you.” 

Belle drained her tea.  “Speaking of- of surprises.  There's something I think we need to talk about. “ 

Rumple looked at her worriedly. “Is there?” 

Belle swallowed hard.  “ I took a pregnancy test, Rumple.  We’re having another baby.” She could hold the lump forming in her throat back no longer.  “ I just want to know, do you want this? You -” She hiccuped as the tears fell. “ You said this was the happiest you’ve ever been.  “  She leaned head on his shoulder.  

“Oh Belle”  He cradled her head.  “ I meant every word of that. And our new child will only add to this perfection we’ve built.”  He kissed the top of her head softly before breaking the embrace.  

Belle reached up, wiping a stray tear from her eyes.  “It’s going to be another new adventure for us.  But there is one thing.” 

“What’s that, love?” 

“ How to tell Gideon he’s going to be a big brother.” 

[darklybound]

Aw! So much Gideon and Rumple! I loved this all the way through 💖 Rumple and Belle’s happiness and Emma’s friendship. Of course, Rumple would try to teach his toddler chess 😂 I love that he’s so happy he can dance with Belle spontaneously. Talk about relationship goals! And their family’s growing! I’d love to see a baby shower in the near future 👀Great fic!  

[rumbelleshowdown]

The Rook and The Rose

Author: bluebelles Group E: dancing for no reason, gardener Gold/Rumple, chess

A/N: A sequel to The Maze and the Blade

⭐️⭐️

Belle loved playing chess even though she had never once won against Rumple. After Wonderland, he humored her whims more often, since she seemed upset about the hedge maze incident. She had been quieter than usual after that. But now she was focused intently on her next move, because she was currently winning.

Rumple flicked his wrist under the table. Belle turned in her seat, swearing she had heard a knock at the front doors. He poofed the pieces around on the board. She hadn’t noticed that he’d already taken several pawns, and one rook. Which was slightly unsettling considering that Belle was usually quite observant. This time, he took her knight. She couldn’t be trusted with them anyway. She turned back to their game.

“Did you….” She trailed off, looking at the board quizzically.

Rumple sighed, playing at impatience, “Are you going to take your turn or not? I don’t have all day.” 

“You’re cheating.”

He gasped, raising his hands in feigned shock. “Me? No! Never!” 

And there it was again, that smile of hers. Beautiful, radiant, and utterly sickening the way it made his pulse race.

She reached her hand out, “Give them back.”

Rumple scowled, reluctantly handing the pieces over to her.

“You realize this will just take even longer each time we have to reset the board?” she scolded.

“No need. Here.” He waved his hand and all the pieces were back in place.

“And why would I trust you with that? You were just cheating!” Belle exclaimed, voice incredulous but eyes bright with suppressed laughter.

Rumple grinned and let out an odd little titter, “Not like you have a choice, dearie!”

She giggled, the sound setting off that fluttery feeling in his stomach. He was about to take her pawn again, but then she stood up, abandoning their game entirely.

“We’ll settle this later,” she offered, as way of explanation. He frowned, watching her leave as if they hadn’t just been in the middle of something. He was only doing this to humor her, and now she didn’t care to finish? He thought about making her do his bloody laundry for the next week. “And where might you be going?” He asked, unable to keep the sourness from his voice.

She gave him a warm smile anyway.

“To plant my flowers! The sun’s behind the trees and the ground is soft since it’s been raining.” Not what he had expected.

“Why?”

Belle rolled her eyes, “Surely you like flowers? Everyone does!”

He looked at her as if she was stupid. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m busy anyway!" He replied, disappearing in a plume of smoke. A few hours later, Belle was still outside. Whatever could be so fascinating about digging around in the dirt was beyond him, but she seemed quite serious about the whole thing. He watched from his tower as she carefully pulled weeds, tilled up the earth, and plotted out her seeds. Once the sun started setting entirely, he decided to go remind her that dinner still needed to be made. “So? How are your weeds?” He asked, appearing behind her suddenly. Belle jolted, “You know I hate when you do that, and they’re not weeds, they’re wildflowers. And one rose bush.”

He wrinkled his nose, “Roses?” That was Maleficent’s thing. And dreadfully tacky at that. “Yes! Remember when that peddler woman came here? You bought one. So I thought you must like them, right?” She beamed at him and he almost felt guilty about the true origins of that rose. He changed the subject.

“Have we always been interested in gardening? Or is this a new interest?” “Well.. I wasn’t really allowed to do this sort of thing before. We had gardeners and… It wasn’t proper to be seen with your hands dirty,” She smiled as she wiggled her muddy fingers at him, “But I’ve always loved flowers, and the study of plants is fascinating! I’ve always really admired those who have been able to do it. It enables advancements in everything else, you know? Food, medicine, textiles..” Rumple watched fondly as she rambled. She seemed like herself again. But then she stopped abruptly, a thought occurring to her.   “I’m sure you use them in magic as well?” “Obviously, but I get others to bring them to me. I have a large collection of dried plants stocked so I don’t have to…” he motioned to where she was kneeling on the ground, “Do this.” “Oh but it’s so nice! Come here, I’ll show you!”  “I can see what you’re doing from here just fine,” Rumple argued. But then Belle pulled out that laugh of hers that made him utterly defenseless and took his hand to pull him down to her level, “Now. All you have to do is reach your hands into the dirt and—“ He pulled his hand from her grasp and gave her an indignant look “No, no, no. I won’t be doing that, dearie. I’ll watch.”  

Belle rolled her eyes at him as she began to dig into the earth with her hands, “See? All you have to do is dig a hole deep enough for the plant. You know, for a man that spends most of his time torturing people, you are SO picky about what you get on your hands. Just give it a try!” And before Rumple could object, she grabbed his hand and thrust it into the cold, soft earth guiding him to dig. Rumple looked at this woman who was brave enough to grab the Dark One himself and force him to do… gardening with her. A woman whose hand was so very warm on his. After she let go he begrudgingly continued to dig. “No one’s ever grabbed me like that without losing their appendages,” he warned, giving what he hoped was a serious look, “and I don’t like being dirty.” “Oh I’m so scared,” she laughed back. 

After Belle had finished teaching Rumple about the ‘joys of gardening’, she left to make dinner. She smiled thinking about Rumple recoiling at the mere mention of dirt, but couldn’t understand why he was behaving so strangely about such a mundane activity. Though, these days he perplexed her more often than not.

In a farther, more mysterious part of the castle, Rumple was tinkering with potions that had no real purpose other than to keep his mind busy. Failing miserably, of course. He couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of Belle’s warm, gentle hands over his cold, inhuman skin. Perhaps she deserved something nice. His mind flickered back to the dress he saw at the Wonderland ball. Before he could talk himself out of it, he closed his eyes, picturing it clearly in his mind. A striking ballgown with rosettes but this time, blue. He walked into the kitchen, gown in hand, and announced, “I had to kill a princess and I thought it was a waste of a nice dress, do you want this?” Belle, startled again, turned from the boiling pot on the range, “You had to kill a…?” She looked at the dress in his arms, “A princess? Why?” She pouted, her brow furrowed with that slight wrinkle it got in the middle sometimes. He resisted the urge to smooth it away with his thumb.

He avoided her gaze as she waited for his explanation, pacing about the kitchen in circles instead, “She backed out of a deal. I did what I had to.”

Belle sighed, “Was she wearing that dress when you killed her?”

Rumple stopped abruptly, “What? No! I may be a monster but I’m not a creep, Belle.”

She eyed him, thinking this through, “So you…. killed a princess, on this big important deal of yours. And then you raided her closet?”  A smile played at the edges of her lips. She didn’t believe him at all.

“Look, do you want it or not?” he huffed.

“Where would I wear that to, Rumple?” She had a point.

“You could wear it here. I need to practice dancing sometimes.” he lied. He was already a very practiced dancer.

“Rumple! What’s gotten–” she was cut off by being poofed. Disorienting as ever but when she regained her bearings, the lights were dim, and she was wearing the dress. It fit her perfectly. He stood there in front of her. Wearing an opulent ensemble that matched hers. His grin didn’t reflect any hint of the trickery it so often held.

He extended his hand, “Care for a dance?”

“I was in the middle of making dinner.” She scolded, but took it anyway. He pulled her in close, hand on her waist.

“You’ve already wasted so much of my time today,” he explained, twirling her about with ease, “It’s my turn to waste yours.”

She searched his face for what she wanted to find, but was afraid of its absence,  “Why do you want to dance with me?” she asked, her hand moving from his shoulder to his chest.

He just smirked and casually replied, “Do I need a reason?”

How silly of her to think she would get a straight answer, but she smiled and decided to humor him this time, “I guess not.”

[darklybound]

Aw, this was so cute! I love how hard Rumple is trying to be the big bad Dark One, and how badly he is failing at it 😂 Belle gets past all his defenses. I like how Belle is indulging in hobbies she never got to do before! And of course, the image of her sticking his hand in the dirt is priceless 😂 Belle got her dress! ✨ Maybe dancing will be another hobby they can do together. 💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

Ghosts in Light

Author:  softest-sofa Group D: game night; sleeping in; leave porch light on

⭐️⭐️

It had become a family tradition, even if the only one actually related to Rumple or Belle was Henry. Emma was so used to it she usually just let herself into the Gold’s home without thought, setting up a game of Scrabble or Monopoly or Pictionary. It felt oddly domestic and normal, something quite alien to her.

It had been routine by the time it had happened. By now, no one could really remember the exact words. It was a flurry of slammed doors, yelling, and tears. But it had come down to the same answer: Gold wasn’t here, and no one believed he would be coming back.

Except Belle. She was in the middle of moving a plastic piece across the board, staring down at it almost unblinkingly. It had been days, and everyone was too worried for her to really ask what happened this time.

“Uh…” Henry started. “You need to draw a card first.”

“Oh.” Belle blinked, and gave an empty smile. “Sorry.” She flipped one of the cards with a stiff hand.

Emma had enjoyed the normal family feeling of it all, but she was now privy to one of the other ‘normal family things’ – the elephant in the room no one would address. But honestly? She was way too freaked out by Belle’s reaction to break that rule just yet, so she silently returned Belle’s piece to the correct place on the board and waited.

---

Belle stood close to the sunlight streaming in the window, hoping to pretend it was like Rumple was actually with her. His face smiled tiredly at her through the ghostly projection, distracting her from the sound she thought she heard further in the house.

“I am trying. She is a conniving witch, as always. I shouldn’t be so surprised to hear what she got her hands on…” Rumple sighed.

“I’m sure you can do it.” Belle said firmly, her conviction radiating out like body heat.

“You always do. It should be soon if I can pull it off. I-” Rumple’s head whipped around, looking at something beyond her reach. “I have to go.”

“Oh.” Belle’s face fell. “Really? Not one more minute?”

Rumple shook his head, and gave her one more long, tender look before his image faded away. She was warm through just seeing him, and smiled dreamily. She believed in Rumple, and had a vice grip on that belief to keep her going.

“...Belle?” Belle started, turning to look at Emma, who was standing uncertainly in the doorway, holding a casserole. “Who were you talking to?”

Belle bit her lip, debating for a long moment. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but Emma was smart, and it would be sorted soon. “Rumple.”

“Belle… Gold isn’t…” Belle slowly realized Emma looked pale, off-kilter and... frightened?

“You don’t understand. I – you know, don’t worry about it. I’ll explain later. What did you want?”

Belle played as vivaciously as she used to that evening, beating all of them in Scrabble, a light and sureness about her. Emma, conversely, was scared as all hell.

---

Belle’s cheeriness had faded over days and by their next game night, she was in more tatters than Emma had seen her since the day Gold left.

Her hands shook over pieces, her breathing would randomly hitch as she looked out the window, she would pace back to the kitchen to get drinks for already full glasses.

Emma had run back to the car for one of the games, and when she stepped back in, she automatically flicked off lights as she went, including the porch light.

“No!” Belle’s chair toppled right over as she stood up. “No, no, leave that on!”

Startled, Emma instinctively grabbed Henry’s arm and drew him beside her as Belle rushed to turn the light back on, clearly weak at the knees. She stood there for a long moment, staring out onto the porch, her lips quivering.

“...Belle? You okay?” Emma asked, as carefully as she could.

Belle didn’t answer, biting on the inside of her cheek, eyes glassy and wet.

“...Did you still want to play the game?”

"Oh, I'm sorry." Belle gasped out, roughly scrubbing her face of tears. "Um, right, the game. I... I…"

“It’s okay if you’re not up for it.” Henry volunteered.

“Do you… do you need someone to stay with you, Belle?” Emma took a step closer finally, putting a hand on Belle’s shoulder.

“N… no. No. I… I’m sorry. I need to go to bed.” Belle turned, barely avoiding tripping on her own skirts, and practically ran up the stairs.

---

Belle looked out the window, watching the shadows play against the light pouring from the porch like clouds dulling the sun. As she had, night after night, she waited.

Where was he? Damn it all, where was he? Rumple should be done by now. He should be home. An awful well of dread had started in her stomach, that each night dug deeper into the soft flesh of her belly, until it felt like she was made up of it.

The porch light was steady tonight.

And then it turned off. Her heart barely knew to start pounding as she pushed off the bed and scrambled towards the door, nearly barreling into her husband already rushing up to meet her.

"Rumple!" she had him in her arms quicker than she thought she could move, breathing him in like she had been drowning.

Rumple's face buried against her shoulder, shuddering. "Belle." he rasped, quaking. His voice was shot – strained and grated.

"Oh stars..." she took in a shaking breath in turn, resisting the urge to crush him to her body until her arms gave out. She pulled back enough to look up into his face. His eyes in the low light reflected the meek glow of the night sky, like a predator.

He drew back minutely, but she saw it and cupped his cheek with no hesitation. "Did you do it?"

Rumple nodded, his lips twitching into a snarl and back, gritting his teeth with effort to keep himself in check. "She's beyond hurting us again, sweetheart."

"Thank the gods. And thank you." Belle pet his cheek for a moment, lavishing in the feeling of stubble prickling her fingertips. "...It was killing me. Everyone thinking that I had thrown you out, being without you, night after night, I… was afraid you'd..."

"But I didn't. I succeeded. You did what needed to be done, if they had followed me, it would’ve jeopardized…" Rumple wilted suddenly, exhausted.

She swallowed, and pulled him towards her.

"Belle, I'm-"

"My husband." she took one of his hands, clasping it to her chest. She caressed the back of his knuckles until she watched those familiar talons shrink towards more regular fingertips.

“Magic always has a price.” he whispered.

“This was yours this time?” She stroked a thumb under his eye, studying the shape of his pupils.

“I… I don’t know how long it will last. I’m like a beast again, it comes and goes, but controlling it…”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.”

"Belle." It only took one look, and he gave in, leaning against her, his body warm and seeking her.

Beast, her fluffy hat. She embraced him as his shaking eased down.

---

Belle was wrapped around her husband when daylight found them, finally content and at home. She had woken only for a minute earlier but, seeing Rumple, felt no need to hurry him awake either.

Until she was woken by the front door opening, and footsteps downstairs.

Rumple surged upward, almost to his feet. "Who's that?" he hissed, words just barely altered from growing fangs.

Belle sat up, blinking blearily before she remembered. She grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Oh damn... family barbecue. I was supposed to host." she groaned.

Rumple blinked at her, his eyes losing their brassy predatory gleam in the sunlight. "...You offered our home to the rabble while I was gone saving our, and likely their own, pitiful futures?"

Belle laughed and scooted closer to him, leaning her face against his warm shoulder. "Sorry. I was taught to be a good host."

“Cheeky maid.” Rumple glowered for a minute but then he huffed a laugh, all the defensive tension bleeding from him, and her heart swelled.

"Hey, Belle. Did you sleep past your alarm?" Emma grinned as she saw Belle pad downstairs in just a bathrobe as Henry put another tray on the counter.

"I forgot. Sorry." She smiled indulgently as Henry laughed. Belle felt more than heard Rumple's presence drawing up behind her.

"Gold! Hey!" Emma straightened up, looking between them. "I... You're back."

"Indeed I am." Rumple's sleek presentation was somewhat undercut by his messy hair, fluffy robe, and nearly being knocked off balance by Henry rushing to hug him. "Hello, Henry. Have you been staying out of trouble?"

"And that's... good?" Emma cast a questioning glance at Belle as Rumple caught up with Henry.

Belle beamed, not faltering. "Very good."

"O...kay, then. Good I brought extra." Emma conceded, looking them over. "Will you guys ever actually explain anything to me?"

Belle felt a hand on her hip and turned into Rumple. "I think we will."

"Perhaps it is time. I can offer to be a bit forthcoming to family. Even free of charge." Rumple's voice still rasped, grated and strained, but there was an ease to his face Belle had deeply missed.

Belle pulled him over and down, kissing him firmly, ignoring the put-on disgusted sounds from the others. She felt a laugh against her lips.

[darklybound]

I loved the mystery in this! 🔎 I kept guessing as to what was really going on until the end. I am curious as to who Rumple stopped 👀 My first guess would be Zelena, but maybe it’s someone else? And for Belle to be okay with whatever he did! I am hooked. But, also, I am in LOVE with the idea that a price he has to pay is aspects of his cursed self coming out! Imagining Gold with claws and fangs is just so 🔥yes please 🥺 And Emma and Henry over for game night is so sweet! 💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

Our Guests

Author: meowmaid  Group D: Sleeping in. Leave the porch light on. Game night.

⭐️⭐️

Rumpelstiltskin eyed the setup in the main hall (his main hall, in his castle) with a mixture of surprise and disgruntlement. 

The quartet of chairs wasn't as rebellious as to snigger at him, but neither did they seem chastised at having disobeyed his command. 

"Stop glaring at the furniture," said Belle without looking up from the silverware she was polishing. 

Rumpelstiltskin scoffed.

It was their own fault!

Apparently there were more than two chairs of that set. Something he'd just discovered when he had tried to banish the superfluous duo - just to have the stubborn things trot back into place at his table. 

Perhaps, he thought with a self-satisfied smile, a fireball would remind them of the proper order of things...

A hand at his elbow stopped the spell before it flared up.

"Please, Rumple." Belle squeezed his arm in entreaty. "If you scare them, our guests won't have anywhere to sit."

Rumpelstiltskin blinked, startled into silence. 

(Because there were so many mistakes in that sentence, or course.)

Making a quick recovery, he motioned between himself and his maid. "We don't have guests," he told her firmly, "because I am the master of this castle." Simple statements should get through the headstrong girl, right? "In fact," he added, crossing his arms over his chest and straightening to the full advantage of his inches over her, "I don't have guests. Ever."

"That can't be right," Belle countered. "You've lived here for ages!"

"Do you take me for some innkeeper, leaving the porch light on to attract customers?"

"Well, no. However-"

"People who come to my door are fools," he cut her off. "Desperate souls begging for a bargain. And, I guess, the occasional fodder for the dungeons." He gave a nasty smirk. "Those are more fun."

Belle, who eventually served tea and offered pastries to all who crossed the Dark Castle gates, raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

Rumpelstiltskin magnanimously decided to ignore the skepticism in her voice. "I do."

"And yet," the girl added with a confident grin, "here I am."

Really. The girl had nerve.

"You," he leaned into her personal space, raised a hand to tap a fingernail against her forehead, "are the help."

Belle didn't flinch. Instead, her eyes nearly crossed trying to see the point of contact. Her smile didn't deign to dim, not even to appease him. "I suppose," she relented.

Then, she grabbed his hand.

"However," she insisted, "I already sent the invitation." Her rosy lips moved into a hopeful pout. "Surely we can make an exception tonight?"

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes wandered between her face and the pink soft fingers wrapped around his own. 

She may have said more.

Mind blank, he may have nodded.

Then he was wrapped in a tight armful of grateful woman. 

To hell with it, Rumpelstiltskin decided. The Dark Castle was big enough to hold whichever strays his maid had decided to entertain for one evening.

---

Hours later, he reconsidered his decision.

"Belle," he asked across the room, having rushed from his tower into the main hall, "just who did you invite?" 

The spells that guarded the castle were flaring in alarm. Spells he had set up shortly after his maid was abducted. Spells that were keyed in particular to three witches.

He could almost smell a whiff of dragonfire.

Without a hint of preoccupation, Belle gave a last check to the array of biscuits and treats on the table and smiled. "They are right on time."

She went on to open the door.

Rumpelstiltskin magicked himself right in the middle of her path. "No," he said, "that's Maleficent."

"Yes," Belle said with a little shrug. "I guessed she would come along."

Rumpelstiltskin, who had been gearing up to swat away an annoying witch, felt his mouth open and close in disbelief.

"Maleficent," he said at last. "Mistress of all Evil. Scourge of the Mountain. Devourer of children and pets."

Belle tilted her head. "I think they call you the latter, too."

"Belle!"

"She comes in peace. That was part of the agreement." She put a hand on his chest, have a soft pat as if to calm his suddenly rapid heartbeat. "I think," she leaned in as if to share a whisper, "that she only wants to check that Diaval is treated well when he visits."

The evening could not get more confusing.

"Why," Rumpelstiltskin asked as calmly as he managed, "is Maleficent's familiar visiting here at all?"

"Because," Belle replied as she straightened his collar, "unlike you or his mistress, we must meet in person if we want to trade books."

Rumpelstiltskin batted her hand away. "Books."

She nodded.

"Books?"

"Well, it did start with Diaval sneaking through a window to steal a tome; but eventually we talked it out."

"Of course you did," Rumpelstiltskin muttered.

He also made mental note to ward the castle windows against birds. Dove could come through the door the next time he was needed.

"Now he must bring me a new novel every time he wants to borrow something," Belle informed him, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Quite the dealer, you've become."

She preened.

Then she looked at him more closely and her expression sobered. "You don't look happy."

Rumpelstiltskin scoffed. "I've just discovered that my library caters to my enemies, and my maid hangs out with their underlings," he sneered. "Why wouldn't I be happy?"

Belle's little pout would not sway him this time.

"Maleficent is hardly an enemy," she reasoned. "If anything, she would be mine. She did kidnap me, didn't she?"

Her sincerity shone through.

If Belle held any ill will, he would throw the spinning wheel to the lake.

Disbelief threatened to turn into amusement. Because... well. It made a twisted sort of sense, didn't it? He had also taken this girl from her home, and now she gave every sign of being fond of him. Why would Maleficent escape the insanity?

"So you invited her," he said, past annoyance and closely verging on acceptance.

"Well, I invited Diaval. But he did point out that card games were best played in pairs, and we couldn't think of anyone else."

"I am not playing cards with Mal," he warned.

"Good." Belle smiled. Her hand wandered to his shoulder and squeezed. "I want you as my partner. Diaval can take her."

He had meant that he wasn't planning to spend a moment with her guests. He had only come from his tower to deal with a threat that, apparently, did not exist.

However, all plans escaped him as his brain got stuck in three words: 'I'. 'Want'. 'You'.

Belle took his silence as permission to walk past him. "I better hurry," she told him over her shoulder. "I hear she's something of a stickler about invites. I don't want her to think we've rescinded ours."

We don't have guests.

The words crossed his mind. He could have repeated then.

But, really. Why bother?

He was the Dark One. If he wanted to spend an hour with a fellow magic user, that was his choice. 

---

There were cards. There were biscuits. There was tea served by a bossy ceramic teapot and a gaggle of pushy little teacups.

(Not his own, of course. It might be chipped, but it knew proper behavior.)

Rumpelstiltskin even caught a smile on Maleficent's face, as she savored a strawberry-topped cupcake.

"These are my favorites," she explained when she noticed him. Then she raised an eyebrow at her shapeshifter companion. "I think someone has been sharing information about their mistress with strangers."

Diaval shuddered.

Belle, of course, came to her friend's rescue. 

"Last month he was so insistent on taking a basketful of freshly picked strawberries," she said cheerfully, ignoring the tension with ease. "I've never known him to like them in particular, so I guessed they must be for you."

Maleficent raised an eyebrow. "Smart," she drawled. Then, with a smile, "In that case, I'm sure you wouldn't mind sharing more of your harvest, little one."

Belle glanced at him.

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged.

It was ridiculous to ask for permission about such details at this stage of the evening. There was a witch at his table. What were a few berries in comparison?

With a smile, Belle rose from the table.

A few seconds later, Maleficent shooed Diaval off, entreating him to secure the best batch.

"Alright, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin said, leaning back against his chair. "Care to tell me why you got rid of the help so efficiently?"

Maleficent laughed. "The help?" She shook her head. "My dear crow is an adequate servant. He would never dare to take liberties under my roof. But your girl?" She crossed her fingers under her chin, and her smile sharpened. "My, my, Rumple. We were so wrong to ask for a measly glove as her ramson. Why, we could have taken each our pick from your vault, couldn't we?"

Rumpelstiltskin scowled. "You are dreaming, Mal."

Maleficent shrugged, easily dropping the subject now that she had ruffled him. "I am fond of a good sleep in. Quite infamous for it, actually."

Both shared a chuckle at the implication. A powerful curse was something to be cautiously admired among those in their trade.

"However," she said, picking the teacup that had been insistently brushing against her hand before it grew cold, "do take a care, darling. There are things that are beyond the likes of us."

Rumpelstiltskin kept the smile fixed on his face. 

What was there to say to that, after all?

[darklybound]

I loved Belle and Rumple’s back and forth in this! Poor Rumple is so confused 😂 I also enjoyed how the guests were people I don’t see often in these fics! Especially Diaval! Now I want to see Diaval and Dove interacting 👀 Maybe all servants/familiars of magic users should create a Union or at least a club! This was such a fun story, and I’d love to see more of these characters interacting. Wonderful fic 💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

Happy Beginnings

Author: paperclip parade Group C: "I want to understand"; morning routines; missing item of clothing

⭐️⭐️

“What do we think for this morning, Gideon? Pancakes or cereal?”

Tucked carefully in Rumple’s arm, his son gazed upward with eyes that seemed to be taking in the entirety of the world. The sweetness of the boy’s new baby smell filled Rumple’s senses, making him sigh. There was nothing that compared to spending a morning holding a child, even after a long night of fussing.

“Perhaps cereal, since I’m holding you, hm?” He reached into the cupboard and pulled down some bowls, then moved them to the table. “Normally I would cook something for your mum in the mornings, but since today is your first day with us, I think she might forgive me this one time.”

Rumple got out glasses and juice, utensils, then thought that maybe some toast and jam would be a welcome addition to the fresh fruit in the bowl that was the day’s centerpiece. “We need plates and knives,” he told Gideon, just to include him in the decision making.

The two moved around the kitchen as a single entity; father carefully shifting items from shelves and counters, pulling liquids from the fridge, and pouring water for the coffee machine to brew. Preparing meals with a child in hand was nothing new to Rumple, he had done all of this before, back when he’d had Bae, and even though the setting was more modern and the items were different, the movements felt much the same.

“Oh, I have missed this,” he whispered to Gideon as he put bread in the toaster. “Even when your brother kept me up through the night. Having him with me right at the start of the day made all the difference in the world. And it makes a difference having you, too. More than you will ever know.”

Gideon was perfect. Swaddled in his blanket, his tiny hands curled into fists, as though already prepared to fight the wrongs of the world. The boy seemed unwilling to give up, even while thrusting his hands to his eyes against the morning's bright light when his father passed through patches of morning sun. Having him was a pure joy that Rumple refused to let go of. He whispered his way through the morning, taking his eyes off of his tasks every time his son made any sort of sound or movement. He wanted to soak it in forever, but the calm of their morning was interrupted first by the sudden hiss of water on hot metal, then by Belle rushing past the kitchen.

Swearing quietly at himself, Rumple snatched the empty coffee pot and put it in the stand to catch what was falling from the brewer, then looked up at Belle as she began to pull the cushions of the sofa to the floor. “Everything all right, sweetheart?”

“Do you have any idea where we left my underwear last night?” She sighed, looking up from her work for only the briefest of moments. “David called to ask when they could come see Gideon and I don’t want anyone coming for a visit and discovering our clothes in all the various places we left them.”

“Mine, if I recall, ended up on the staircase railing,” Rumple pointed out.

“Yes, I remembered. I don’t have any idea where you tossed mine.” Belle paused in her work to look up at him and made an expression that Rumple couldn’t quite work out.

He chuckled down at Gideon. “We should think about that, hm?”

His son’s answer was to thrust one of his small fists vaguely in the direction of Rumple’s nose. This he chose to interpret as an agreement and paused in his work to think.

“Did they end up on the bookshelf? Or perhaps behind the television?” Rumple threw out some ideas, then went back to the business of making breakfast, getting butter for the toast.

Belle let out a groan. “No. I’ve already looked in both places, and all through the sofa, since that’s where I know you took them from me.”

“Maybe the lamp?” Rumple put away the knife, then walked both the milk and cereal back to their places after serving them.

This brought a positive result and triumphant shout from Belle, who soon joined her family in the kitchen. “Yes. Thank you.” She stood for a moment, blinking at Rumple, then studied the space around him.

“Is something wrong?” He looked up from Gideon to study her utter confusion.

“I want to understand how a man who is always telling me he doesn’t need sleep can be this sleep deprived on the first morning with his newborn son.”

Rumple blinked, he certainly didn’t feel sleep deprived. “I beg your pardon?” He had perhaps been a bit distracted by Gideon, but felt no lingering drowsiness or the brain fog that came from long nights pacing the hallway with an infant in his arms.

Belle gestured at the table and Rumple blinked in wonder at what he saw.

The cereal bowls were set in the right places, but were filled with juice and had nothing else inside them. Beside the bowls, in their proper places, coffee mugs filled with dry cereal stood. A knife was stuck inside one of them, the other had a spoon somewhere near where it might belong, but placed upside down, handle toward the bowl of fruit rather than the table’s edge. There were plates with toast, but the butter was spread on the napkins and the jar of jam was nowhere in sight. Meanwhile, the milk carton stood prominently beside the fruit bowl, in a puddle of its own spillage.

Rumple blinked, staring at the absolute mess he’d made. “I’m sorry, Belle… I have no idea how this happened. Truly.”

“I do,” Belle chuckled. She moved to the cupboard to grab the cereal box and then released a long, joyous laugh, leaning against the counter to help her stay upright “Rumple. Open the refrigerator.”

He did as he was told and discovered the box of cereal placed in the center of the uppermost shelf. “How did you…”

Belle pulled the juice from the cupboard. “Because this was in here.” She put the container down on the table and moved to take Rumple by the shoulders. Gently, his wife guided him into a chair, then stepped back to admire him with a loving smile. “Why don’t you sit this morning and let me go through the breakfast making instead? I think there’s a more reasonable chance we would end up with something edible that way.”

[darklybound]

OMG I loved this! 💖Rumple being a loving father is always so heartwarming to see. You can really feel his love and pure joy for his son. I love how references to them fooling around are just normal. And Gold tries his best to help her find her undies 😂And he’s not immune either, as he made breakfast wrong because he was on autopilot and didn’t realize the cereal and juice were mixed up! Brilliant! This is an amazingly well-written slice of life where you can feel the love between everyone involved. I’d love to see a sequel when they have the Charmings over for dinner! 👀 Maybe they find something spicier than undies 🌶️

[rumbelleshowdown]

Like Clockwork

Author: Thread of Gold Group C: "I want to understand"; morning routines; missing item of clothing

⭐️⭐️

If she did not think about it, her hands did the work by themselves. Pick a flower, check the petals, cut the stem, put it back into the water. Next. The trick was not to concentrate on what you were doing or the spell would be broken and she would have to think about directing her hands again: to hold the knife just so to get the right angle, where to grip a rose so as not to prick herself. The routine had worn into her bones over long shapeless mornings of opening the shop, a warm haze she moved through, as the world outside the shop window slowly woke up. Reliable, the shape of her world condensed to 400 square feet of counter and displays and the almost cloying smell of flowers she only noticed anymore when she concentrated on it. Some days she concentrated on it just to have something to notice.

A look at the scratched display of her wristwatch. 10 AM on the dot. Izzy placed the last rose in its vase and went to flip the shop sign to open. Her father had already hauled the display buckets outside before leaving for his deliveries, and the thin autumn light stripped the roses and carnations to pale silhouettes. Beyond them, people hurried past on Main Street: Archie on his way to his office, Sheriff Graham on his morning round. If she waited another moment, Ruby would round the corner, hurrying to work five minutes too late. She always did. 

Izzy turned back towards the shop and her cup of tea cooling on the counter.

When she had been small, she’d wanted to be a pirate queen. Or an aviatrix. Or a librarian. Dreams influenced by nights reading adventure stories by torchlight instead of sleeping. Getting older had meant giving the first two options up as unrealistic. Growing up had meant giving up the careful plan for the latter – scholarships and working through college and desperate hope – in favor of helping her father keep “Game of Thorns” afloat. Izzy mostly didn’t think about it anymore, the way she didn’t think about directing her hands.

Izzy was lucky, really. She liked the shop: the display of sunflowers by the door, the low hum of the old cooler that always seemed on the brink of breaking down and somehow still made it another month, and the chance to help people choose the right bouquet for a loved one. And on slow days – which was most days – she could read stories about other people’s adventures behind the counter.

Another look at the watch, 10:04 AM. Dropped petals on the tiles under the display buckets, swept up just like every morning and most likely back before noon. Yesterday’s half-finished flower arrangement still in the cooler – an anniversary gift for Mrs. Tillmann – put back on the worktable. Izzy slid the diamond ring off her finger and dropped it in the key dish under the counter – she’d learned early on not to wear it with the garden gloves unless she wanted to loosen the stone – reached for the blue apron and –

She blinked at the sturdy cotton in her hand. Dark green, the shop’s logo stitched on the front, just the same as always. Exactly what she threw on every day. And definitely not blue. Izzy shook her head. Of course it was green. It had always been green. Izzy put on the apron and patted down the pockets. Scissors, twine, pen, hair clip – check.

The flowers were arranged before her – white camellias, forget-me-nots and eucalyptus to frame them – and she went to work. Most people did not care for flower meanings beyond red roses as an all-purpose sign for love. That was fine, but Izzy enjoyed deliberating about silent messages, just as she chose each flower carefully, checking the petals, looking for just the right spot to place each and every one. Even if most customers would not notice either effort – she would.   

The bell over the door rang. 

A startled look at her watch – 11:47 AM, still more than ten minutes until noon.

Izzy looked up. It was not her father, back early from his deliveries, and it was not a customer. It was Mr. Gold.

The morning light caught the silver of his cane, the careful line of his suit and the polished shoes that did not belong on the scratched tiles of their shop. For a moment he was a dark figure silhouetted in the doorframe, and she could not make out his expression in the shadow. 

He did not belong there.

Mr. Gold did not visit “Game of Thorns” except to collect rent, on the second Wednesday of every month, in the afternoon, when her father would wait for him at the counter with the envelope. It was the second Wednesday, but it was not afternoon, and her father was still away. The wrongness of it sat heavier than it should have. Izzy pushed it down and smiled.

“Mr. Gold. Good morning.”

“Miss French.”

His tone was mild, and his cane was steady on the tiles as he came to the counter, but his free hand had gone tight at his side. “Your father is out, I take it.”

“He’s on deliveries. Is there something I can help you with?”

“The rent.” A pause that was a beat too long as his gaze wandered from the flowers on the worktable to the counter and finally fixed on her. Heavy. “I find myself making an early round this month. There was a – disturbance at the diner last night. A stranger arriving in town. The Mayor is rather put out.” 

“A stranger? In Storybrooke?” She did not know why she said it like that. As if the possibility had never crossed her mind before. A raised eyebrow. “I didn’t think people came to Storybrooke on purpose.”

He looked at her. Properly looked, with a stillness that had nothing of his usual amused detachment. Izzy had seen Mr. Gold perhaps a dozen times in the years she had been working at the shop, always with the same faint air of disinterest. He had never looked at her like this. Unblinking. As if he were waiting for her to do something she was not quite sure she was capable of. 

“No,” he said, after a moment. “They don’t.”

A shiver ran down her spine. She found that she did not want him to look away. 

“I’ll just get the rent. Would you like to sit down.” It was not a question. She heard it leaving her mouth as a statement and could not call it back.

“That’s very kind of you, Miss French.” His voice was lower than she had ever heard it. “But no.”

“It’s no trouble.” Too quick.

“Miss French.” He picked up the envelope from the counter – she did not remember pulling it from the drawer underneath, but it was there, so she must have, and he was picking it up. “It is.”

She nodded and the silence that followed stretched between them. The people passing by outside the window seemed very far away. He did not look away. She did not either. There was a question rising in her chest that would not form.

“It’s a small place, Storybrooke,” she finally heard herself say. “Strangers don’t tend to last. I hope they’ll be fine.” 

A long moment. “I hope so too.” He paused, brown eyes still on her. “Miss French.” There was something in his voice she could not name. Her heart was beating too fast. “May I ask –”

The bell over the door rang. 12:00 PM, just like every day. 

Gareth filled the doorway, a paper bag in one hand, and Izzy’s body responded before her mind did. Her hand was already in the key dish under the counter, gloves pulled off. The diamond ring slid back onto her finger. She tilted her head to look up at him as he crossed over to her, passing Mr. Gold by. For one dizzy second she thought he is so tall, as if she had not always had to tilt her head back – but he had always been that tall, of course he had, and she was smiling at her fiancé, and the haze was warm again.

“Thank you for bringing lunch.”

“Of course, Izz. Mr. Gold, everything alright with the rent?”

“Everything is in order, Mr. Lecroix.” Mr. Gold tucked the envelope inside his coat, face blank. His eyes had moved to Izzy’s hand and stayed there for the smallest moment. “Miss French – good day.”

“Good day, Mr. Gold.” A polite smile formed on her lips.

He left. The bell rang. Gareth was already unpacking the sandwiches and somewhere in the back of her mind there was a thought she could not quite catch, something about an unblinking gaze, about a stranger – but the sandwiches smelled good, and Gareth was telling her she should eat before it got cold.

Izzy was lucky, really. She told him so.

[darklybound]

Oh, I love a cursed!Belle 😍 You conveyed that Izzy was both going about her routine and hinting at the curse beneath the surface, guiding her movements and thoughts. It was perfectly done! And poor Rumple! It seems he woke up and realized Belle’s still alive 😭And with Gareth, who I assume is Gaston? Gold, you've got some work to do! This was a wonderful fic 💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

Disaster Prep

Author: raisinet rockette Group B: the castle's tallest tower; intuition; "What's wrong with you?"

⭐️⭐️

There were only two reasons a hospital would call him—medical results, or someone he loved was dying. Gold had no recent tests, no blood work, no appointments. Someone was dying.

He had received this phone call once before. There was only one person left, and she didn’t even know he loved her.

Staring at his caller ID, Gold took a deep breath. As much as he didn’t want to hear about Belle, he couldn’t let it go to voicemail.

“What?” he snapped.

—

Three months ago, Gold had taken zero notice of The Castle, a climbing gym opening the next town over. He wouldn’t have been caught dead in a gym no matter the theme. 

But then the mayor cut the library’s funding and Belle French’s pay. Within a day, she was in his shop. 

They chatted sometimes. He’d helped furnish her apartment, sometimes found rare books for her that she couldn’t afford but liked to look at, and every once in awhile, he checked out a library book, but this was different. Even before he saw her red eyes, he’d known it would be.

“Mr. Gold, I want to make a deal.”

For a moment, he did nothing but wipe his glass counter. He’d always known the day would come when she would find out who he really was, turn her back on him.

“You’ve come to the right place.” He set his cloth down. “But it’ll cost you.”

“I know.” She wrung her hands. “I’m sorry to make such a silly deal, but I barely had an extra hundred dollars a month, and now I really don’t.” 

He frowned while she dug around in her purse. A hundred a month? Her pay had been cut far more than that. But he waited, pretending as if he’d known all along what she wanted, even when she slapped a mailer for The Castle down.

“You’re not serious?” He’d been prepared to shell out ten thousand dollars in exchange for something stupid, like weekly car washes. She wanted a gym membership?

“I need an adventure,” she said. “Please, Mr. Gold. I know we’re friends, but I’m desperate.”

Friends. If she was buttering him up, she didn’t need to. He’d already committed the faux pas of overestimating what she’d want. The ball was in her court now.

“Well,” he said anyway, holding the illusion of control. “That’s what I like to hear.”

—

All Gold heard on the phone was accident. There had been an accident. The hospital called him. Why not her father? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. 

Accident. 

He limped around the room searching for his shoes. No matter how much he’d dreaded this, he still felt woefully unprepared. How could he not be? Grief did not make grieving easier, just less shocking. 

—

It was too cold for Gold to insist Belle wash his car, though she’d agreed fast enough when he floated the idea. In the end, she dusted his shop once a week.

“Mr. Gold,” she asked one day, wiping a ceramic ballerina. “How did you become a pawnbroker?” 

He looked up from the music box he was failing to fix. “What?”

“I mean.” She picked up a glass mouse, studying it. “Did you inherit it? You have too much money to have started out as one, I would think. But did you always want this?” 

When she turned to him, he had one eyebrow raised. Let her stew over whether or not he’d found her question rude. She didn’t need to know that her bravery in asking made his heart pang.

“Oh come on,” she said, cheeks pink. “What’s the harm in telling me?”

“Why climbing?” he asked instead. “And a town over? Couldn’t you just lift weights in the comfort of your own home?”

“I’m—well, this funding thing just—I can’t put all my eggs in one basket, you know?” She twisted the rag. “So this is practice, I guess. For an adventure somewhere.”

“A climbing adventure?” Of course Belle wanted to hang off a rock. “What is so wrong with you that you want to die of exposure?”

Belle laughed, a tinkling sound that traveled up his chest in a pleasant spark. “At least it’s not cave diving?”

Shudder to think.

—

He’d expected her to die falling off some cliffside, but he wasn’t surprised. She’d probably climbed that damn princess tower. The hobby had always seemed to him a thinly veiled suicide attempt, and his intuition never led him astray. He knew who hated him, who was desperate, who just wanted to watch the world burn.

Not even Belle would have willingly put herself in his shop once a week unless she didn’t care anymore.

—

“I’ll show you,” she’d promised about two months in to their arrangement. “It’s not scary. Come with me. I’ll buy you dinner.”

Obviously, she couldn’t afford to buy him dinner. She could barely afford rent anymore. But he’d agreed and gone to The Castle so that he, in his suit, could stand there unnerving everyone like an old lecher.

The gym’s cursory attempt at theme was decorating all the climbing walls as towers. A Rapunzel wig hung from the top of the tallest.

Belle clung to a shorter tower like a spider. It didn’t make him feel any better.

“See?” she called, giving him a thumbs up. He did not react, but she grinned anyway, and his hollow chest hummed.

She slid in bursts down the cord, and then as she reached the bottom, her foot slipped and she couldn’t grip anything fast enough. Gold watched her scrabble against the wall and arc backward as if in slow motion, then he dropped his cane and leapt for her, catching her in his arms.

Once she got her bearings, he dropped her like a hot potato. He brushed himself off, occupying his hands so he wouldn’t blush like she was, and when he chanced a glance at her, she was smiling.

“Thank you,” she said. “Ready for dinner?”

“After you nearly killed me?” he said, desperate for even footing. “Dinner is the least you can do.”

As she rushed off to get changed, laughing, Gold considered the best way to slip the waiter his credit card.

—

The last time a hospital had called him, he’d rushed over. If he’d been a minute later, it would have been too late to say goodbye. 

He sat in his car now, gripping the wheel. Would it be easier to say goodbye, or to just go on as if she’d never existed?

—

“Did you inherit this from your pawnshop predecessor?” Belle held up a hideous screaming doll. Gold almost laughed.

“I bought the shop because people wanted to pawn things instead of making deals. It was easier. And—” He swallowed, debating how much he could say without being too vulnerable, giving too much of himself. She already had his heart. 

“And?” she prompted.

“And I like it.” There. That didn’t kill him. “I find history of craftsmanship fascinating.”

He couldn’t quite decipher the look on Belle’s face, but it constricted his lungs and made him want to fling himself out the window.

“Me too,” she said softly.

—

Gold stood before the hospital, stone-faced, hands crossed over his cane. He wanted to say goodbye. He could go in there and do it. Maybe she would have jewelry no one would miss he could take as a memento.

He entered, ignoring reception to head to her room. Would she be hooked up still? Would she recognize him? Or would she be alive only technically?

Best to get it over with. Best to let the grief fill him so that later, at home, he could crush it into another hard knot to dig its claws into his heart.

Then he walked in, and she was sitting up in bed eating a pudding cup. He staggered back, gripping his cane. Was he hallucinating already? Where was the doctor?

“Mr. Gold!” Belle licked her spoon. “You did come.”

He couldn’t speak. Was she really alive? She hadn’t died in a tragic climbing accident, leaving him with only suing-the-gym for comfort? Without thinking, he limped over and touched her shoulder. She frowned. 

“Mr. Gold?”

“Did you fall?” he wheezed. 

“No.” She grimaced. “A car knocked me over in the parking lot. Broke my leg.” 

“A car?” It hadn’t even been climbing? 

She nodded. “I’m just waiting for a doctor to clear me. Will you drive me home?” 

“Yes.” He forgot to even joke about asking for payment. “Don’t you have stairs?” 

“Oh.” She frowned. “I didn’t think about that.”

As if commandeered by a stranger, his mouth said, “You’ll stay with me.” 

But when she turned to him with a shy smile like the sun peeking out behind clouds, he found himself forgiving his traitorous mouth.

“How will I ever repay you?”

Perhaps she could repay him by never doing anything dangerous again. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Belle beckoned him toward her. Still unsure that everything happening was real, Gold bent closer.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold. For everything.” She pecked him on the cheek, and then, when he turned to look incredulously at her, the mouth as well.

“It’s nothing,” he wheezed again, and with the ghost of her lips on his, he couldn’t even remember what she was thanking him for.

[darklybound]

I really liked how this fic goes back with flashbacks all throughout, and you learn a bit more about their relationship. I’ve never seen climber Belle before! But she would seek out adventure, especially when life tried to get her down 😤 Not our Belle! 💪 And Gold catching her as he did in the Dark Castle was great! The hint that the person Gold had to say goodbye to was Bae was so sad 😭, but also resonated so well. This line hit me hard: “Grief did not make grieving easier, just less shocking.” Go, Belle, making a move! Maybe they’ll be doing more kissing as she stays over 👀 What a lovely fic 💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

Above All

Author: Undyne Determination  Group B: the castle's tallest tower; intuition; "What's wrong with you?"

⭐️⭐️

“What’s wrong with you, Papa?”

With a start, Rumplestiltskin fell out of a nebulous haze and into a very real one; wet and cold, the sort that marked the start of a Storybrooke winter. Gideon stared around the bulky hood of his coat, waiting for an unfiltered answer to the unfiltered question. 

Of course, there had been no malice in the asking. Gideon wanted to know why his toes were dangling above damp gravel instead of flying through the air. Why his father had breached the most sacred of playground contracts.

Why, indeed. It was a day as normal as any other; overcast, with the bite of ice suspended in the air, mud puddles dotting the playground. It wasn’t an anniversary of any kind. There was no excuse. 

“Sorry, Gid,” Rumplestiltskin grunted, resolutely readying another push.

“You can do it yourself, too, Gideon!” 

Belle was quick, but had she not been on the bench a second ago, and by all appearances, engrossed in her novel? 

Now she was in front of the swing set, all sparkling eyes and encouraging smiles. “See, you just hold on tight and lean back,” she said, miming the motion. “Then forward, then back again. See?”

Gideon glanced between them, perplexed. But before Rumplestiltskin could protest that a push was no burden, that of course he didn’t mind indulging his son a bit longer, Gideon hopped down from the swing.

“Mama,” he said, treading over to Belle as quickly as his little legs and the slippery gravel underfoot would allow, tugging at her hands as a formality. “Come with me up the tallest tower?”

“Be there in a second,” Belle pledged, walking toward Rumplestiltskin instead of following Gideon to the wooden play structure. “Hey,” she said, slipping her mittened hand into his. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Rumplestiltskin said, quickly. Gideon scrambled up the first platform with ease, and then the next. It still gave him heart palpitations to see Gideon at the top. “Nothing. Go ahead.” He squeezed her hand, pleadingly. One of them had to, and not only had she been invited, but between them, she was the one properly attired for it. Practical as ever, Belle; and still every bit the superior half of their power couple in flats, jeans, and a windswept bun.

“Mama!” Gideon called impatiently, hanging from the ladder to the fourth platform, and, finally, Belle slipped her hand from his. “Five minutes, and we’ll go?” 

Rumplestiltskin nodded. Gods, she was so beautiful. So happy. “Good idea. Looks like snow.”

—

The house had once had more rooms than he knew what to do with, but one by one, they’d been put to use. The third floor, in particular, had held a special fascination for Gideon ever since he’d mastered stairs, and the room crowning the tower-like bays had long since been claimed as his playroom.

Play food, die-cast cars, building blocks of all shapes and sizes, anything that the Charmings’ Neal had shown the barest hint of outgrowing; it was all here, an ever-changing riot of primary hues, scattered over honey oak floors. While Gideon was adept at navigating his own mess, Rumplestiltskin was not always so fortunate. Some days—he tried not to make it often—aggrieved feet and knees won out, and he would resign himself to watching Gideon from the sidelines, hunkered in one of many mismatched stools.

Days like this one, when the gloom never relented.

Rain verging on sleet had just begun to pelt the windows. Rumplestiltskin sighed as he rose from his too-low perch. By some miracle, he made it to the light switch without toppling anything or even distracting Gideon from rummaging through the depths of his toy chest.

“Ah.” Belle appeared in the doorway, just as the room filled with light, cradling a bowl piled full of grapes. “So much cheerier in here!”

And how right she was. “Impeccable timing,” he said. She’d brought an exceptional looking bunch, plump and crisp, and his mouth watered even though hunger had been the furthest thing from his mind.

“I’ve, uh,” Belle said, pushing a stray curl behind her ear, “really come into my own as a caretaker.”

That surprised a chuckle out of him. “At long last,” he teased, plucking a small cluster from the bunch. Maybe he did have an appetite, after all. “Gideon, would you like a—”

Gideon peered at him, frozen in mid-motion, a little bundle of cloth held aloft in his fist.

There hadn’t been much to offer, back then. Certainly not finery; he’d barely been able to scrape together the necessities. Rumplestiltskin hadn’t been able to provide a happy home, nor the respect of the community, but…

Working with his hands, that he could do.

“Papa?”

“I—” Rumplestiltskin could remember spinning the flax, weaving the linen. Remember crafting the little rag doll in Gideon’s hand. How had it found its way to the bottom of the toy box? “That,” he tried, voice thick in his throat. “That belonged to your brother.”

Gideon studied the doll for a moment, then with a solemn nod, set it to the side in favor of a multicolored train engine.

“Are you—” Belle began to ask, but letting her even finish the question was too much to bear.

“I’ll get started on dinner,” he said, lightly, returning his grapes to the bowl.

—

“Hey.” Belle threaded her arms beneath his, from behind.

“Hey,” Rumplestiltskin replied, snatching up the wooden spoon from its rest. Everything was under control; the stock was at a low simmer, nothing was cooking to the bottom of the pot, and as long as he could keep staring into the stew, he would be fine, too.

“Are you in a place where you could watch Gideon for a bit? I have to pop out.”

“Pop out?” He poked aimlessly at a hunk of carrot. There was no arguing that he was, but they had everything they needed, as far as he knew. “For what?”

“Dessert.”

“Do we not have a freezer full of ice cream?”

“It’s too cold for ice cream. “

He glanced at the window. The rain had indeed turned to snow, finally.

“So it is,” he conceded, and Belle pressed a quick kiss to his ear.

“Be back before you know it.”

—

Dinnertime wound down and things were darker than ever. Rumplestiltskin felt all the more foul for feeling so, especially when there was no call for it; not when the food had been nourishing and plentiful, not in a house that would be warm despite the storm, and not when he had a loving little family to cherish and be cherished by. 

He cleared the dishes and resolved to do better, resolved that the rest of the night not be a lost cause. Logic over emotion—it was bound to prevail, one of these days.

“So,” he said, settling back at the table. “Shall we do dessert?” If it had been important enough to Belle to brave the weather, it would be monstrous to not partake, wouldn’t it?

Belle and Gideon exchanged a look, and then the same grin bloomed on both their faces.

“What?” he asked, even less certain of what was happening as she rose to stand behind her chair,

“Rumplestiltskin,” she said, curtsying, “we hereby request your presence in the castle’s tallest tower.”

—

Toys cleared away and lit by a truly impressive number of LED candles, the playroom was barely recognizable, though the tiny tea set was almost as old as Gideon. Belle must have bribed Granny for the cake. It dwarfed the little table, even after three slices had gone to their plates and a fourth to the rag doll, propped up in a place of honor.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin said, chest tight as Gideon helped the doll to a mock sip of tea, “how did you know?”

“Intuition. Or, well…” A slow smile bloomed on her face. “The Dark One may not wear his heart on his sleeve, but Rumplestiltskin does.”

He huffed gently and reached for her knee. It would have been nice to hold hands across the table but, between the tea accoutrements and a smattering of candles, space was at a premium.

“You know,” Belle murmured, running her thumb along said sleeve until she found his cuff buttons. “I feel that he’s here, sometimes. For Gideon, and you.” 

Rumplestiltskin nodded slowly— deliberately—as he cast about for somewhere to look while he debated whether to blink back tears or simply let them fall. As he settled on the electronic flicker of a candle, he felt Belle fiddle with a button. “Maybe it’s silly.”

Before he could open his mouth, the faux flame flashed, hot and bright and blue. It lasted for a heartbeat, for the blink of an eye, but it might as well have been a lifetime.

Rumplestiltskin gaped at Belle, and she gaped back. They stared at each other in stunned silence until something inside him burst.

“It isn’t,” he breathed, through a spark of joy as bright as the flame. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks. “No it isn’t.”

[darklybound]

This pulled at my heartstrings 😭 You really set the atmosphere with the winter chill and Rumple’s distant mind. Both Gideon and Belle are trying so hard to cheer him up, and support him in his grief 🥹 The doll tho! My heart 😭But the ending! Hope! Bae is looking out for his family and little brother 😭😭😭 Now I wonder if Bae set the doll in the toy chest for Gideon to find, if maybe he handed it down? Such a great story 💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

A Riddle in Red and White

Author: Shiro Group A: carousel; “I couldn’t find you”; strawberry shortcake

⭐️⭐️

Rumplestiltskin woke with a groan, golden eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. 

Where was he?

He remembered Belle. Being… preposterous, in the way she always was. Arguing with him. Wanting to know about the music box he had brought. Nosy, curious, mouse. Pestering him. And then what? She had… she—

Wait… where was Belle??? 

“Belle!”

He stood, eyes scanning the surroundings for some familiarity. Nothing. Except a mirror set against… Was he in a tent? He took note of his attire. Red tail coat, gold accents… top hat. Not his usual clothes. Someone changed them?

He snapped his fingers, intending to change back, expecting the familiar feel of his magic. Nothing. 

What the…? 

Why didn’t it work?

His magic was there. He could feel it. So, why couldn’t he access it? He was still the Dark One. His skin still scaled. But he was without magic. And Belle was missing, the thought trickled in the back of his mind, like dread. Belle was missing and he didn’t have his magic and for once, he hadn’t the slightest clue where he was.

“Whoever you are, dearie, pray I don’t find you.” he muttered, for once keeping his pitch low. 

He had a maid to find. And his magic to access.

————🎠————

Belle blinked to… bright lights. Lights like she had never seen before. Not in scones, not lanterns or fire. But in… glass. Small round and numerous little glass that reminded her of fireflies. Magic of sorts perhaps. 

She was in a tent. Red and white. How did she get here? She had been in the Dark Castle, talking to Rumplestiltskin, while he was being insufferably vague about a… about something. 

And now here she was. Standing on a platform. Wearing a green frilly dress reaching her knees, reminding her of jesters, bright colored stockings, and flats. Practical shoes at least. Ones she could run in. 

She… didn’t know where she was. The lights trained on her unnerved her. Furthermore, there was no one. She just heard music. Low in volume but present, in the background. She didn’t know where it was coming from. It should have sounded cheerful but in this place, without a soul in sight, it felt off. 

She stepped off the platform. No point staying in one place.

This was weird. And… she couldn’t find Rumplestiltskin. Did he do this? No, she thought firmly. He was strange… but he wouldn’t hurt or scare her. She knew that much.

She just wished she knew, was he even here?

————🎠————

Belle had been walking for some time. This place was filled with oddities she couldn’t name, but reminded her of the carnivals of Aghrabah that she had heard of. It was during this walk, she came across a table.

Lined with cakes. With one particular cake under a spotlight.

A graciously labelled Strawberry Shortcake, and with it, a note:

To seek the one you desire,

Look to reflections of dire

And if you feel yourself lost,

Just find yourself… a small horse!

A rhyme. A puzzle. She remembered the stories she had read. There was always a puzzle for the hero to solve. This had to be something similar. But who…? And why? She read it once more, feeling far more confused. 

The one she desired, huh?

Belle took a deep breath. She was going to look for reflective surfaces. Urgent… reflective surfaces? While keeping a lookout for any small horses. Would the horse lead her home? Was it a real horse? She had no idea. She just knew she felt lost and she hoped Rumplestiltskin was here.

She took a look at the cake, grabbed it. It turned into a small card. That… was important, right?

————🎠————

Up and down and where to go

Where are you, where's the flow

Answers in mirrors, answers I endorse,

Answers perhaps, belong to a horse

This was the note in a bottle. On a dresser in a different tent. 

And he wanted to crumple this note and burn it. A game. A ridiculous, infuriating game. That’s what this was. Someone was playing with him. 

And had somehow found a way to block his magic. 

He snapped his fingers, once, twice. Too many times. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

Frustrated, he tossed the bottle at the mirror, hearing it shatter. That was satisfying, watching the mirror crack and break. He stared at himself on the broken surface. Were those words? Rumple squinted his eyes, catching something glowing. He removed the shards quickly.

A plaque was underneath it. 

PICK ONE.

Two spheres, one with purple smoke, one with blue. 

Mirrors… answers. Just like in the note.

He shouldn’t. This could be an elaborate trap. But, he was… clueless. He needed to find Belle. She could be in danger. And he hated that he was worried. 

“Obviously I’m worried. It’ll be so hard to train a new girl,” he muttered

He ignored whatever he was feeling in his chest when he thought of Belle being hurt. But he decided. If these spheres were a trap, then he was a fool. 

He picked the blue one. Text appeared in its place. 

Congratulations, you have unlocked flight!

————🎠————

Belle took in gasping breaths, not looking behind her as the great beast chased after her. 

She had found a fountain, called Dire Fountain. It had a statue of two weeping angels. She had assumed the fountain was the clue. And yet, when she glanced into it, the water rose, twisted, formed a dragon. And its eyes had trained on her. 

And she had been running. 

And it was drawing closer. 

She was going to die. She didn’t want to die.  

Didn’t the poem say Rumplestiltskin would be there? Why wasn’t he? Was he even here? She jumped. Ducked, slid into another corner, as the dragon chased after her. Her foot caught on rope, she tripped. It was close. Too close. Feeling the coldness of the water on her back, she shut her eyes. 

And felt the ground leave her. 

She waited. She heard the roar. It sounded far away? Why was it…?

“Hmph. I thought I saved a maid, not a quivering mute. Shouldn’t I get at least a thank you?”

Her eyes snapped open, seeing familiar gold and green. 

Rumplestiltskin! 

He was here. Belle felt her eyes sting and she hugged him. Was she crying? Oh… she was crying. 

“I—I couldn’t find you. I didn’t know…”

“Yes… well, I'm here now.”

He patted her back awkwardly, and the normalcy of his flustered self drew a laugh from her. 

Their moment was interrupted as the dragon roared once more, forming wings and taking to the sky.

“Hold on!”

Rumple adjusted his grip. And they were flying. It finally registered. They were in the air. How were they flying? She hadn’t seen him ever fly before. He teleported. He—

“Look out!”

The warning came too late as the jet of water slammed into them, sending them hurtling to the ground. Rumple covered her with his body, taking the brunt of the fall. They crashed to the ground harshly. As Belle lay half on him, disoriented, a small sphere of orange-red smoke rolled past her. 

“Grab that.” He muttered, getting up, holding his shoulder. Was he hurt?? “Give me your riddle.”

She handed the piece of paper and the sphere to him. He read it with concentration, comparing it to his own.

“Get to the carousel.” He nodded towards a… line of horses, set in between circular discs. “Turn it on. That’s our way out.”

Belle nodded, saving questions for later. She ran to the… carousel?, Rumple flew towards the dragon. 

————🎠————

Rumplestiltskin finally remembered. This was no trap, just his carelessness.

The box. They were inside the accursed music box. He had heard of the stories of people going missing because of the box, so he had brought it. To study it. He assumed it had to be open to work. He was wrong. It activated on touch.

And Belle had touched it, while he had held the damned thing. They had been transported, because the box worked for pairs, and they were the newest prey.

Rumple steadied himself in the air, unused to flying. And sent a fireball hurtling at the dragon, ignoring the protesting shoulder. Drawing its attention away from Belle. 

How convenient, wasn’t it? The sphere orbs had spells. Had magic. And he had managed to collect three. Flight. Locator. And Fire. 

And he believed the carousel was the way out. It was the endpoint of both poems, it had to be the endpoint of this blasted game. And he believed Belle would figure it out.

————🎠————

Belle arrived at the carousel, searching, , hearing the fight, trying to find something that would run this contraption. She finally located a small platform that had small horses drawn all over it and a small thin slot. A plaque read, 

Feed the horses! Get your ride!

An idea struck her. And since she didn’t have time to think otherwise. She fished the cake card out of her pocket and inserted it into the slot, thanking everything that she had grabbed it. 

As soon as it slipped in, the carousel whirled to life, glowing bright, and spinning. Slow, then faster, faster, music growing louder. Belle stepped back, afraid. Before she could react, Rumple grabbed her without warning and jumped into it. 

Belle shut her eyes. 

When she opened them… they were back in the Dark Castle.

They were home. 

She turned to him. He was soaking wet. “What… was that?”

Rumple lay on his back, “Give me a few seconds, Belle. I just fought a dragon.”

[darklybound]

What a fun ride!  Reminds me of a fun house! 🪞Belle would touch something she wasn’t supposed to. I imagine she had many adventures this way! 😉The story has some striking visuals, especially Rumple fighting a water dragon and flying! 🐲 And that last line had me in stitches 😂 I wonder what the music box did to its other victims? Did it absorb their magic or life force? 🤔 Or could the entire box be a prison for the dragon? You have me curious! 🤩Also, it's not easy to come up with riddles and puzzles, especially rhyming ones,  and I think this did a great job!💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

Talking to Strangers

Pseud: Olive Tree Group A: carousel; "I couldn't find you"; strawberry shortcake

⭐️⭐️

Surrounded by happy, chattering people on all sides, Maxwell Gold wondered not for the first time why he continued coming to these events. The Storybrooke Spring Festival was a place for families. Couples. Friends. Not an old miser who people actively changed directions to avoid when they saw him approaching. He knew he wasn’t welcome. He knew it would be easier for everyone if he just stayed at home.

But still he came. Every year. Because Bae had loved it and anything that reminded Gold of the good times they’d had together when his son had been happy was something precious to be savored. 

Lost as he was in the memories of a small boy tugging on his hand, eager to ride every ride at least twice before eating his own body weight in donuts and ice cream, Gold didn’t notice another small boy coming his way until the child collided with his legs.

Gold stumbled back, managing to get his cane under himself in time to avoid completely falling over. The boy righted himself as well, looking up at Gold with large round eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mister! I didn’t see you there.”

“Evidently,” Gold muttered. He looked around for anyone who might be nearby to claim the child. There were plenty of people milling about all over the place, but none of them seemed at all concerned with the boy. “Are you here by yourself? Where are your parents?”

“I don’t know. My mom told me to wait for her by the carousel while she bought ice cream but I saw a dog and wanted to say hi and now I don’t know where the carousel is any more.”

The boy turned in a complete circle as if to demonstrate his attempts to search and Gold couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’ve wandered quite a bit, but don’t worry. I can show you where it is.”

“Okay!” The boy agreed readily, grabbing Gold’s hand. Gold barely had time to register his surprise at the level of trust before the boy pulled it away again. “Oh, wait. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. My mom said so.”

“Well, your mother is quite right.” Gold felt his brow furrowing as he tried to work out the best course of action going forwards. He couldn’t exactly leave the child to continue getting lost, but he didn’t want to undermine the important message either.

The boy solved his mental deliberations by speaking up again, his voice transformed into one far more formal than Gold would have expected from one so young. 

“Good afternoon, my name’s Gideon. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The child, Gideon apparently, thrust his hand out. 

“Maxwell,” Gold replied, shaking the boy’s hand bemusedly. “The pleasure is all mine.” 

“There, now you’re not a stranger any more so it’s okay for me to talk to you.” Gideon smiled up at Gold, grabbing his hand again. 

“Can’t fault that logic,” Gold laughed under his breath, charmed by the child, before wondering how long it had been since he had felt such genuine amusement. When was the last time he had laughed and it hadn’t been snide? 

It didn’t take long for them to find the carousel. When they reached it Gold looked around, searching for anyone who seemed frantic and worried. “Do you see your mother?”

Gideon craned his head around then looked back at Gold and shook it. “No.”

“Well, if she said to meet her here she’ll probably come back. The best thing to do is wait for her to find us.”

Spying a bench nearby, Gold led them over to it to sit down. They didn’t have long to wait before his prediction proved accurate.

“Gideon!”

Both Gold and Gideon looked up at the shout, then stood up as the most beautiful woman Gold had ever seen in his life came running over, her long brown hair flying behind her. She scooped Gideon up into a tight hug before crouching down to push him back to arms length and look directly into his eyes.

“You scared the life out of me! Do you have any idea how worried I was when I turned around and I couldn’t find you?”

Gold blinked in surprise at her accent. So different from her son’s. He could relate to that. Bae had sounded American through and through and, while there was nothing he didn’t love about his son, there had always been a part of Gold that wished his boy spoke with the same Scottish brogue as he did. He wondered if Gideon’s mother ever felt the same. 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Gideon replied. “I just wanted to see the dog. But then I got lost and I couldn’t find the carousel again and I bumped into Mr. Maxwell and he brought me here.”

Gideon looked up at him and his mother followed his gaze. For the first time she looked directly at Gold and he found himself drowning in the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. 

“Right, well, that was very kind of him.” She smiled weakly before turning her attention back to her son and lowering her voice. “But Gideon, what have I said about talking to strangers?”

“No, Mom, I just told you, he’s not a stranger. He’s Mr. Maxwell.” Gideon shook his head as though he thought his mother was being particularly slow to understand. 

The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath and Gold was reminded of many similar conversations with Bae. He knew that the two of them would be having a longer talk about this when they got home.

“I see.” She opened her eyes again and stood, turning to face Gold directly. “Well, thank you so much, Mr. Maxwell.”

“Please, call me Max.” Gold made the offer before he could think better of it.

“I’m Belle. Belle French.” She held out her hand and he shook it, much like he had her son’s earlier. “Can I buy you something to say thank you? Ice cream, perhaps? Ruby said we simply have to try the strawberry shortcake flavor. It’s their specialty apparently”

“Wait, where’s my ice cream?” Gideon looked at his mother’s empty hands in confusion, having apparently just remembered the reason for her leaving in the first place.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Well if you’d stayed where you were supposed to you’d have some by now. As it is I left my place in the line when I looked around and you were gone.” 

“I can get us some,” Gold offered. 

“Oh, no.” Belle shook her head. “You’ve already done so much. Please, let me.”

She turned to the stall then paused, reaching back to tug Gideon along with her this time. 

It wasn’t long before she returned, handing him a cone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask what you wanted so I got us all the same.”

“It’s fine.” The three of them sat on the bench. “So how do you know Miss Lucas?”

“I don’t, really. Gideon and I only moved to Storybrooke a few days ago and we had dinner at Granny’s our first night here. I’ve only met Ruby and Granny so far. I haven’t even seen my landlord in person yet. All I know is his name’s Mr. Gold and Ruby tells me he’s a bit of an ogre.”

“Oh?” Gold paused, turning his head to look at her.

Belle’s eyes widened and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth briefly. “Sorry! Me and my big mouth! Don’t tell me he’s a close personal friend of yours and I’ve just completely put my foot in it!” 

“No, no, not at all.” Gold turned back to his cone. “In fact I’m not sure he has any friends.”

“Well, that’s sad.” Belle frowned and Gold was surprised to see that she did look genuinely upset by the news. “It must be awful not to have any friends. No wonder he’s grumpy.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. I bet if people were nicer to him he would be nicer to them as well.” 

“Maybe.” Gold shrugged. “Or maybe he’s just a horrible person with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.” 

“I don’t believe that!” Belle shook her head. “There’s goodness in everyone. You just have to look for it.” 

Gold smiled wryly. “Well, when you do meet him don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Belle hummed as if dismissing his concerns before turning to him with a curious look. 

“By the way, can I ask you something? If it’s not too personal?” She paused, waiting for his nod. “Why do you go by your last name? Is your first name something embarrassing like Rumplestiltskin or Barbara? Or is your name actually Max Maxwell?” 

“Ah, no.” Well, this was it. He supposed it couldn’t have lasted forever, but having a beautiful woman talking to him without disgust had been nice while it lasted. “Maxwell is actually my first name. My last name is Gold.”

He watched as a whole spectrum of emotions played out on her face while he braced himself for her inevitable anger. He was surprised when she ended on a smile. 

“See, I was right!” She crowed triumphantly, gesturing towards him with her ice cream cone. 

Well that certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. “About what?”

Her smile widened even further. “You aren’t an ogre at all.” 

[darklybound]

This was so cute! ☺️ Gideon was adorable 💗 Gold would visit the festival to relive his memories of going with his son 🥹 And what a fun meet-cute! Belle instantly chatting him up and being friendly must be such a nice change. I love how when she finds out who he is, she just rolls with it! 😂 I think you just got a friend, Mr. Gold! 💖

[lacetulle]

Almée Couture | Spirit of the Forgotten