So I'm doing a knitting magazine relaunch project for my publishing MA and my group needs some info on people's crafting habits! So please if you have a moment help me out here by taking this quick survey; sorry for the spam.
(Ok next chapter; honestly not quite what I expected it to be but hopefully not too terrible/awkward. Enjoy?)
The desert wind whipped angrily at the young hero’s clothes, each gust almost sending his smaller body tumbling face down into the dunes. He hadn’t remembered the desert crossing being this hard… But then again he’d had the benefit of stronger muscles and longer legs when last he’d made this trip.
He was unsure when Zelda began the incantation to send his back where exactly he would end up, and he hoped fixing the image of the ancient stone colossus where he’d last encountered the spirit sage would be enough for the magic to guide him. It seemed not to be- he’d instead been deposited somewhere in the haunted wastes that stretched between the Gerudo settlement and the temple. He didn’t know how long he’d been wandering from guidepost to guidepost, eyes nearly squeezed shut against the biting sand. He didn’t know how much longer he could last out here.
Just then he felt himself slip in the shifting sand, feet giving way at last beneath him. He cried out as he fell, mouth filling with flying sand and he choked, sinking further into the sand as he struggled. As he gasped for air he frantically scanned the wastes around him for some sign if life, willing the goddesses to grant him one last mercy and save him from a death so unbefitting of the hero of time. Just before he gave in to the darkness edging at the corners of his vision he thought he aught a glimpse of flaming red hair in the distance, and the sound of quickening footsteps on the sand.
—————-
"So… What was a Hylian kid doing in the haunted wastelands anyway? How’d he even get there?"
"Tch. Ask Sheera; she’s the one who was supposed to be guarding the gate-”
"Don’t you blame this on me! You know damn well there’s no way he could’ve gotten past without me seeing, not without getting past your watch as well."
"Hey! I’m supposed to keep outsiders out of the fortress, remember? The wastelands are your business. And where did we find him?"
"Hush you two; I think he’s waking up…"
Sure enough it was then that the hero at last cracked open his dust-caked eyes to stare blearily at the three women standing above him. The two arguing were the oldest, possibly twins as they shared the same features, demeanor and short-cropped hairstyle, while the third and younger Gerudo wore her hair long and loose down her back, and watched him with the careful eyes of a healer.
"Hey there. You wanna tell us what you were doing in our desert? You’re awfully far from home aren’t you?" The healer spoke, at the same time taking a cloth and a small bowl of thick ointment from beside her and beginning to rub clean the scrapes and cuts that littered his exposed limbs. She didn’t truly seem all that intent on an answer, more likely using the attempt at conversation as a distraction from the sting of the salve on the wounds.
"I, uh, got lost I guess." He stammered. He’d have to get used to his old voice again.
"Uh huh. So a Hylian just happens to get lost way out here. Right." One of the guards sneered.
"I seriously doubt the kid’s a spy, Lula; you don’t need to be harsh with him."
"Oh really? Sure seemed pretty well armed for just a random kid." It was then Link noticed his sword, shield and items were missing, and a quick glance around found them heaped at the feet of the guards. The skeptic Lula reached down and retrieved the hookshot from the pile and examined it. "What’s a kid like you doing with all this stuff anyway? Half of it’s too big for you anyhow."
"I found it." This was mostly true.
"Yeah? And where’re you from that stuff like this is just laying around?"
"The forest…" Link was still somewhat dazed, and this was the best answer he could come up with.
"The forest? Like… Kokiri forest? Oh, I’ve heard some crazy stories about that place! Is it true that anyone that gets lost in there becomes a monster?"
"Hmph. Seriously you three? I thought interrogating the prisoners was my job." An amused voice came from the doorway, and Link smiled as he beheld the first familiar face he’d set eyes on since reaching the desert. Nabooru was just as he’d remembered, though she wore more opulent jewelry as befitted her station as second in command of the Gerudo, so it would seem her falling out with Ganondorf had not yet occurred. Link silently wondered at how much difference a year could make.
"I wasn’t interrogating anybody!" The questioning girl defended herself. "I was just curious was all… I’ve never met anyone from the forest before."
"Well you can be curious a bit longer. Ganondorf wants to speak with him now."
"What does the king want with some kid?" The healer ventured quietly. "Wouldn’t it be better to just take him back to the border as soon as possible?"
Nabooru shrugged. “Who knows why he does anything lately. Probably wants to make sure he’s not the world’s tiniest spy, or whatever. Anyway he needs to come with me as soon as you’re done fixing him up.”
"R-right." The healer didn’t look pleased at the prospect, but quickened her pace applying salve to Link’s scrapes. As she finished she leaned in close and whispered to the boy. "Don’t worry kid, as long as you’re not a danger to us you should be fine. Just be careful what you say- the king’s not really that bad usually, but he’s been in a temper lately that’d put a demon to shame."
Link didn’t have to ask what she’d meant, though he chilled at the mention of demons in the same breath as the Gerudo king. That was an experience he hoped never to repeat.
"Alright kid, off we go." Nabooru grabbed him roughly by the arms, though she was careful not to put any pressure on his bandages. Link followed her lead in silence. Truthfully he hadn’t thought this far ahead, imagining that getting an audience with his erstwhile nemesis would take a bit longer than a day. That and the memory of their last encounter still hung over him, even though he knew the man he would be facing today was still a ways from the same powerful entity that would go on to conquer Hyrule.
He only wished they’d allowed him to keep his sword.
After what felt like an age wandering the maze of adobe bricked walls that made up the Gerudo’s fortress, the two stood before an ornately embroidered curtain flanked by torches that could only lead to a throne room. Nabooru paused for a moment and looked down at the hero as if estimating him. He didn’t look back at her, internally steeling himself for what was to come. He felt this wouldn’t be anything like solving a dungeon puzzle or defeating a wave of enemies; if he wanted to have any chance at stopping this conflict before it began, he have to rely entirely on his wits. He’d seen all the good a sword could do in this battle; he only hoped his words would be more effective.
He suddenly wished fervently that Zelda was here.
Then Nabooru pushed aside the curtain and led him inside. The chamber within was dimly lit by braziers along the walls, the firelight casting grim, dancing shadows on three figures seated at the far end of the room. The two on either side Link recognized as the two old witches who’d cursed Nabooru and invaded the Spirit Temple for their own evil purposes. Unconsciously the small hero stepped forward, putting himself between the two sorceresses and the would-be sage. This movement did not go unnoticed by the third, central figure, who cast a massive shadow from his raised throne. His face- save a mouthful of glinting teeth- was cast into deep shadow, as if the light itself did not dare approach too closely.
A deep chuckle resounded from this darkness, the sharp points of teeth contorting into a grin.
"Brave little thing, aren’t you?" He leaned forward to get a better look at the hero, and all at once Link was met with the same face he’d spied on through a castle window with Zelda on that day so long ago. The man seemed much unchanged from that day, though perhaps more casually dressed, lacking the dark armor and robed in a manner not dissimilar to the other Gerudo, though like Nabooru he wore yet more jewels that glittered off of him like a dragon’s hoard. Link made no reply to his remark, simply standing his ground as the desert king eyed him up and down.
"What brings you to my kingdom, little Hylian?" He smirked. Link frantically tried to think of an answer; if he spoke honestly he would either be executed or sent off to the border- either way his journey would be all for naught unless he could give the man some reason to let him stay… A thought struck him like the flash of a light arrow; he’d play the Gerudo at his own game.
"I want to join you." He said boldly and, he hoped, earnestly.
Link would later remark that a surprised Ganondorf was one of the most amusing things he’d set eyes on. The man’s face didn’t seem to be made for astonishment, features shifting this way and that as if unsure how to comport themselves. At length the same smirk returned, and the king let out a deep, snickering laugh that would’ve been more ominous if Link wasn’t so sure that this was as close as he got to true amusement.
"Oh, really. And why should I allow a kid like you to, ah, help me?"
"Well you’re going to Hyrule soon aren’t you?" Link was nothing if not adaptive, and as soon as he’d gotten an idea into his head it wasn’t terribly difficult for him to think on the fly. "If you want to do any deals with Hylians, wouldn’t it be helpful to have one on your side? I mean, I’d definitely trust you more if you had someone like me along." Link smiled in what he hoped was an endearing way. He’d never been terribly good at lying, but bluffing- that he could do.
There was silence for a moment as the king considered this, and then the whole place echoed with booming laughter and Link fought hard not to run for his sword at the sound. The last time he’d heard that… But finally the noise subsided as the Gerudo caught his breath, but before he could speak one of the crones cut him off.
"Hmm, he does have a point now doesn’t he?" Said one.
"Oh yes, why just think of it- how could anyone in the Hylian court not trust that face?" Said the other.
"A good distraction if there ever was one…"
"Of course you’d need a proper story-"
"Of course! You’ll tell them all how you found this poor child wandering abandoned in the desert, so of course you took him in-"
"Saved the boy’s life! Why, you’d be welcomed as a hero!"
"And then-"
"And then you’ve got them eating right out of your hands, my lord!"
The two witches cackled to each other over Ganondorf’s head, and the man receded back into shadow as he contemplated this. It was obvious that there was nothing he wanted less than to take the boy up on his offer, but he couldn’t deny that the old crones had a point. He knew well it would be difficult getting anything done in Hyrule without arousing suspicion, and perhaps this little whelp would give the Hylians something to coo over while he carried out his plans. Like hell he was admitting that to the kid’s face though.
"Hmph. I’ll… consider it, I suppose." He spoke at last, grumbling in a way that would’ve been childish if the sound hadn’t been so reminiscent of an impending rockslide. "Nabooru, find somewhere to keep him until I’ve made up my mind, and until then make sure he stays out of my way."
Nabooru simply nodded curtly, glancing down at Link as if she was unsure what to make of him. Considering what he knew of her thoughts toward Ganondorf and his allies, Link wasn’t surprised.
She then turned and swept from the room, motioning for Link to follow. As he did he felt eyes heavy upon his back. He dared not turn and meet that gaze, lest a monster stand before him once more.
(Oooookay, second attempt at zeldaing here. Ocarina of Time again. Time travel for fun and profit- or just to prevent the destruction of the world. Eventual triforceshipping.)
The princess and her hero stood on the burnt and blackened field, surrounded by rubble and the last flickering embers of the demonic fire that razed the land. The monstrous form of their foe lay still at last only feet away, and Link couldn’t help but keep casting sideways glances at the carcass, searching for some sign of movement. But the beast lay still on the scorched earth, never to rise again in this lifetime.
Finally satisfied with this observation, the hero sank down to rest against a pile of rubble, head hung low and sword slipping from his grasp as he willed his heart to stop pounding. Navi fluttered anxiously around him as if checking for injuries. Princess Zelda stood nearby, gazing at the destruction with a serene sort of regret.
"So what happens now?" He asked softly, and steadfast Zelda nearly jumped backward in surprise.
"I… We rebuild the kingdom, I suppose." She spoke calmly, but he could hear the slightest hesitation in her voice, as if she hadn’t truly expected them to get this far. He couldn’t blame her; neither had he.
Both were silent for a long moment, both unsure just what to say. Zelda moved closer to Link and sank down on the ground beside him, as if the exhaustion from the battle were finally catching up to her as well.
"You know… Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but I didn’t think you could talk. Anymore, I mean. I was afraid that being sealed in the sacred realm… Being asleep for so long might’ve done more damage that we’d thought."
"You don’t know how scary it is to hear someone else’s voice come out when you talk."
Zelda fell silent at that.
"…If it’s anything like almost forgetting what your own face looks like without a mask, I think I might."
Link looked over at her and smiled sadly. They’d both lost so much of their lives, his to time and hers to shadows and disguise. Part him longed to rail and rage at the unfairness of it all, but that part was lost in the tide of exhausted relief that consumed him. He was beginning to feel he could collapse right there on the stone when Zelda’s voice roused him.
"I could send you back, I think. Back to your original time. You could forget all of this, grow up normally. Would you like that?"
Link thought about this. The thought of returning home should have thrilled him, and yet… It didn’t. The forest seemed ages away from him now, from who he was. Besides, if he went back he’d grow up eventually, and have to leave… And what then? And if he was sent back to the past, would all that had transpired in the future stay the same? He thought of all those he’d met and helped since he awoke in the temple of time. Did he truly want to lose that? At the same time, how many times on his journey had he wanted nothing more than to wake from this as if from a nightmare, safe in his bed with no further worries than how to spend his endless forest days.
Navi continued to flit around his ears, her movements ringing like soft pealing bells.
"Could you only send me back to the same instant? Or could you go further?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… Before all this started. Before Ganondorf took over and you had to leave, before castle town got destroyed. Could you send me back to then?"
"I… Possibly. But to break free from the flow of time created by the master sword… There’s no guarantee you’d be able to get back."
"That’s- that’s ok. I just need to try something."
"Try what?"
"Try and fix all this, without anybody getting hurt."
"Link…"
"I mean, look at this! Yeah, we saved Hyrule, or what’s left of it, but after seven years? Seven years and however many people dying? Just because I wasn’t old enough… It’s not fair. I think I can change it… Will you let me try?"
Zelda watched him for a long moment. The most words she’d heard from Link since she’d known him, and spoken with a vehemence she’d not known he’d possessed. It was times like this when it was so painfully easy to remember that the apparently grown man before her was little more than a child within, a child forced to face all the horrors of war and death. It was no wonder he was desperate to change that, and that he was still idealistic enough to believe he could. Seven years ago Zelda herself would’ve likely shared his faith, but now… Now she was unsure.
"Link… Forgive me for doubting you, but just how do you expect to manage that? To stop all this without bloodshed… It would take more than a miracle."
"Well we sure don’t seem to be short on those lately." He gestured at the defeated form of the demon beast. Insurmountable odds really didn’t seem so bad when one makes a living by surmounting them.
"But how, Link… To just blindly rush into this is hardly the best course of action don’t you think?"
"I… I think I’ve got an idea. There was a woman I met in the Gerudo desert. She seemed to know a lot about Ganondorf’s power. Maybe I could, I don’t know, stop him taking over? Or at least warn everyone…" Link fell silent once again, before continuing again in a whisper, "I’m sorry. Maybe you’re right; there’s not really anything I can do now…"
"I never said that." Zelda interrupted and Link looked up to meet her eyes, still bright with green fury leftover from the battle. "I just don’t want to lose you again, that’s all."
"Zelda…" They were both incredibly conscious of the fact that this was the first time the hero had spoken her name. "If I can do this, then neither of us will ever have to lose anyone."
"When you say it like that I feel like you can do anything." Zelda smiled. "Alright. If you’re sure about this, then it’s worth a try."
Link simply nodded, his former reticence slipping back into place with his newfound purpose. He stood, shakily at first, and Navi took this moment to interject.
"Link! Do you really want to do this? Like Zelda said, there might not be a way for you to get back…"
Link turned to look around him at the charred rubble that was so long ago a verdant field, at the twisted monstrosity that not so long ago had been a man. He closed his eyes and nodded again, his will painfully clear. If this was the only future he had… He wasn’t sure he wanted to return to it.
"Alright- Link! We’d better do this now; there’s still enough residual magic in the air here that I should be able to break free of the time stream. Just how far back will you need to go?"
"How far can you take me?"
"Very well. Let me see…" Zelda raised her hands, eyes fluttering shut as she felt for the limits of her power. "…I can’t do much more than what the master sword could, I’m afraid. Perhaps eight years instead of seven."
"Eight years should be enough." Link replied, sheathing his sword. It would have to be.
"Alright. Come stand before me then, and I’ll send you back." Link did as she asked, but he paused when he came within arms length of the princess.
"Wait-" the hero dug into his pockets for a moment before coming up with something wrapped in tattered cloth. "You should take this back first, I think. If I can do this right I shouldn’t need it anyway."
Zelda took the parcel and carefully unwrapped it, somehow unsurprised to find the ocarina of time pressed into her hands. She almost protested, as taking this back from her hero seemed somehow to be blasphemous, but when she thought of his intended destination… She dreaded the thought of the ocarina falling into the wrong hands should Link not succeed. She silently tucked the item away and readied her stance to cast the spell. Here it was Zelda’s turn to pause, staring intently at Link.
"I still don’t understand… After all the fighting you’ve done, why would you want to continue? You could be through with all this, you could go back and live in peace…" She fell silent as she was met with Link’s sad smile.
Wow ok this took a long time. Trying to get back to updating more frequently though. If it’s any consolation this chapter is very long.
As always, also here on ao3.
When Dracula exited the portal he stopped short; were it not for lack of breath he would have gasped in surprise. He stood in what could only be a spacious hallway of his old castle, unchanged by time or man. It was as if he had passed into his slumber only yesterday; the stones still untouched. He walked cautiously down the hall, noting that the apparition of his son had vanished. He could not see any signs of a trap, nor indeed any sign of life save for himself. The very air was stilled, save for a light breeze from a nearby doorway. He walked through it and found himself on a vast balcony, and he paused once more at the sight before him.
The entire castle lay spread out below, unmarred and whole. He tried to understand, how could this possibly be? Had he been somehow transported back through the centuries, or was this simply an illusion of some sort, or a dream within his own fractured mind? Whatever the case, the city that had overwhelmed his domain was gone, and he was alone in his lifeless kingdom once more.
Was this what the apparition had meant? It offered to help him recover his sword, but he hardly thought it meant to retrieve the weapon from the past! Unless this was not truly happening as he saw it, merely a trick of his perception. In any case that possibility didn’t trouble him overmuch; at least here he could see his son again, if only as a passing spirit. If he could find where the boy had gone, that is…
He left the balcony for another long corridor, this one as still and empty as the first. This was beginning to seem a bit odd, as the castle had always been teeming with creatures of all sorts, all monstrous beings groveling for the protection of the castle’s master. In another life he would have slain them all, but as it was he at worst felt nothing but contempt for them, and at times he even pitied them; he was not so proud he could not recognize that their tragedy was not so dissimilar to his own. At any rate they were good for thinning out the incessant tide of knights and warriors foolhardy enough to try their hand at defeating him. Were the castle always as vacant as it now seemed to be he’d have had no respite from them.
Now the silence began to unnerve him, seeming not so much an absence as a fragile thing under great pressure and in imminent danger of snapping apart. As soon as this thought came upon him he felt a tremor run through the marble beneath his feet, rumbling up through the floor until it began to crack and cave in around him. He ran, feet struggling for resistance against the collapsing stones. A great expanse gave way before him and he jumped, claws scrabbling out a handhold and regaining his footing on the other side. He kept jumping and climbing forward, now aware of a cacophony of voices echoing through the tumult of falling stone. He clung to a descending pillar and jumped, landing hard on his side on the last patch of solid floor at the end of the hall. The cracking and crumbling below and behind faded away, and the voices with it, and he could barely make out what seemed to be a desperate pleading before silence rushed in again.
He dragged himself to his feet, perturbed by the return to absolute silence. He looked back over the gap that had once been the corridor. If anything the sharp but quickly ebbing pain from his ungraceful landing seemed to be proof that this was no fantasy. He would have to be careful; there were denizens of the castle he’d rather not face in his current state.
If the building itself didn’t do him in first.
The hallway led into an expansive and deteriorated ballroom, its lofty ceiling hung with chandeliers. Here and there parts of the walls and balconies had collapsed into rubble on the lower floor, rather spoiling the grandeur of what had once been an opulent space. Not that he’d ever made much use of it; if there were any creatures waltzing about the space he was mercifully unaware of it. He was thankful at least that this room was exempt from the tense silence that hung over the rest of the castle- here the sound of water echoed from the edges of the room. He smirked to himself; he knew now where the vision of his boy had led him. The chill of void magic was almost as strong as the rumble of the waterfalls; his sword couldn’t be far.
As he strode into the center of the room, though, the creeping unease he had felt earlier in the castle came upon him again, as the feeling of invisible eyes watching, intangible hands grasping at him. He paused. Then the thunderous rumble from before began again, and he braced himself for the collapse, only to find the shifting was above his feet- the piles of rubble around him rising up of their own accord, no, borne upward by a surging torrent of blood. These pieces of stone knit themselves together with bloody mortar into a colossus with a one-winged cherub for a head. From the demonically angelic face glowed a cold blue light- his void magic trapped within the creature.
He stared up at the monster and grimaced, annoyed but undaunted. If his very castle was to defy him now, so be it; he had conquered these spirits before, and it would be little trouble to do so again. He summoned his blood whip and squared his stance as the massive stone feet took their first steps.
It wailed as it approached, swinging a monolithic fist towards him. The vampire dodged just in time, caught off guard by the return of the tumult of voices. Now there was no falling stone to muffle them, and he heard clearly a thousand pleading voices calling for his surrender, his return to this empty castle as ruler. He answered their cries with the whistling arc of his whip, cutting through the stolen blood binding the stones.
The colossus roared as it was attacked, pounding the ground and casting out waves of noxious blood that almost overwhelmed its former master. He leapt up to strike the creature’s cherubic face, knocking more blood from between the stones but failing to dislodge the glowing gem. All the while the voices shrieked in chorus not from the stone, but from the blood itself, coiling into his very being. He snarled and launched himself at the beast in a desperate bid for silence, tearing into the stones themselves.
This was too much for the colossus. With a final wrenching wail the stones began to crumble away, the blood dissolving back into the castle. He approached the fallen cherub’s head, and with a quick movement snapped the gem from its eye socket. He felt a rushing, biting cold wash over him as the void power returned to its master, the orb dissolving into nothingness. With another gesture he willed his blade into existence, smirking at the familiar weight in his palm. Though he was still nowhere near his former strength, this was certainly a fine start.
Suddenly a flash of movement from one of the upper balconies caught his eye. There stood the vision of his son once more, staring down at him for a moment with an unreadable expression before turning and running off through a doorway. Dracula watched him go, frozen for a moment, before making to follow. The stairs to the upper floor had long fallen away, but the waterfalls still flowed from the ceiling. With a wave of his sword these were frozen, giving the vampire something to dig his claws into and clamber up to where his boy had disappeared.
He hurried through the doorway but stopped still when he noticed his son was not alone. Before him stood a tall, pale demon that had in previous years been one of his soldiers. Now he saw only the monster menacing his son; he surged toward the pair, hastily putting himself between Baelfire and the demon.
"Stop." He growled, all the cold fury of the void in his voice.
"My- my lord!" The demon started back, quickly and gracelessly kneeling before him. He sneered down at it with hatred.
"This boy is under my protection. You. Will. Not. Harm. Him."
The demon looked up at this, seemingly surprised. It looked from the vampire to the boy sheltered behind him and back again, auxiliary mandibles flapping with the movement. Then it rose again to its full height, returning its master’s look of disdain.
"You are not our lord anymore." It growled with disgust. Dracula barely had time to raise his sword before it rushed at him.
He parried the attack easily enough, concentrating on keeping his son shielded from the sweeping blows. The creature was not particularly strong, but it was fast enough and skilled enough at blocking to keep him from instantly dispatching it. He kept himself close to the demon as he dared, searching for an opening to shove his blade into his opponent.
"Father!" Baelfire’s voice from behind made him jerk slightly, enough of an opportunity for the demon to carve a deep gash into his shoulder, knocking him off his feet. As he recovered he swung himself around to see another demon had appeared, far too close to his son. He threw himself at the newcomer with a cry, casting the beast away with such force it hit the ground, giving him a chance to fall upon it, fangs in its neck and mouth drenched in foul blood.
This creature so dealt with, he turned back to the first demon, eyes wide with fear as he saw it hurtling toward Baelfire. He leapt forward sword first, pushing his boy aside and driving the blade into the demon. The creature shuddered as ice crept from the wound in its chest, stilling into a frozen corpse. He pulled the blade from the body and turned back to his son.
The boy stood in the center of the room, his clothes and hair disheveled from the fight and slightly splattered with demon blood, but otherwise unharmed. The vampire banished his sword and walked carefully over to him.
"Bae-" he began, but his son cut him off with a gesture.
"No time for that now- I wanted to give you this." He pulled a large medallion from his tunic and handed it to his father. "If you ever need me, just use this and I will find you."
The vampire stood frozen; he could only nod at the boy. He was once more struck by the impossibility of the situation, not only that he had apparently traveled backward in time, but that his son should be here and in this form, while he still recalled vividly their last meeting. No, as much as he would have liked to believe this was real, he knew it could be little more than some thirst or weakness induced hallucination. Or perhaps he was simply going mad again.
A surprisingly strong tug on his hand shook him from his contemplation. He looked down to see Baelfire- or the illusion of him- staring just as fixedly at him.
"Well come on; we need to get you back." He released his grip and ran on ahead, disappearing through another shadowed doorway before the other could see where he’d gone. "Follow me." The boy’s voice echoed strangely in the room.
The vampire made to run after him, but found the alcove into which Baelfire had run little more than a dark recess in the stone leading to a solid wall. Well. Definitely a hallucination then. But then how was he meant to follow? A sudden thought struck him, and he examined the medallion that his son had given him. A white wolf’s head gazed back at him from the metal disk. How exactly was he meant to use this?
His question was answered as he wandered back over to the center of the room, the floor of which he now noted was emblazoned with the same insignia as the medallion. As he watched transfixed the floor began to glow in the presence of the artifact, and as the last of the shimmering light died away he heard a haunting howl from the upper floor of the room. He turned to see a great white wolf standing on one of the platforms. The beast eyed him curiously for a moment before turning and gesturing with its furry head to a large archway behind it.
The vampire wasted no time in following the creature’s lead, clambering up the stones to meet it. He cautiously reached out a hand to the wolf, and the beast gently nudged it with its head, obligingly allowing the vampire to scratch its ear. Then the wolf pulled away and made for the archway again, silently beckoning Dracula to follow.
—————-
Night seemed to fall too quickly, or perhaps it was that the dawn had never truly come to the city. Thick, almost noxious clouds hung low enough to scrape themselves open on the tallest buildings, and through this gloom the sun could not penetrate. Below the clouds the air hung heavy and still, the tense calm before a great storm. Belle shuddered. Something was happening, some great evil was stirring in the city, and she was unsure they would rise to meet it.
She shook the trepidation from her mind. What would happen would, and all she could do was fight, as she always had. She only hoped she would not have to do so alone.
"About time we headed out, don’t you think?" Gaston’s voice startled and at the same time reassuring her. "The sun’s just about to set, I think."
"Hm. It’s hard to tell through the clouds. Do you think that means anything?"
"Nothing I’d want to think too much about." Gaston made a face. "Well, I’m sure it’s nothing your vampire friend can’t handle."
"If we find him." Belle reminded him. She didn’t want to think too much about what should happen if they couldn’t find him, or worse if he was not longer in any state to be found.
"Hey. If there’s anyone in the Brotherhood I’d think could track down the Prince of Darkness it’s you. I mean, you dragged him out in the first place after what- a thousand years?"
"Gaston, whoever took him had to have been stronger than he was, if they still have him, well-"
"It’s going to be one hell of a fight?"
"Literally, probably."
The two continued to banter back and forth as they left the apartment and made their way to the business district. The streets were almost unnaturally empty, as if the populace had hidden themselves away from the sinister air. Every now and again the pair started at some movement or noise down an alley, though they found no demons there. Belle shifted uneasily. She couldn’t shake the sensation of something stronger than human eyes on her back.
At last they reached the building where Belle had seen the shadow of Dracula’s captor disappear. The building seemed even taller and more bleak now, with dark clouds shrouding its peak. Before they reached the building proper, however, Belle froze as a chill sensation washed over her. She felt a great rushing all about her, like a great wind flowing through the streets. After a moment she recognized the feeling: there was strong magic here, magic not dissimilar from what she had seen the elders of the Brotherhood make use of, though much darker and more powerful.
She felt it flow from the great building like energy waves, coiling around her and off into the night. This meant something, she could feel it. Gaston, meanwhile, had only taken a few steps before he notice his colleague frozen behind him.
"Belle? Something wrong?"
"I can feel something. Something or someone in that building is sending out a signal- a powerful one."
"And that means…?"
"It means whoever is doing this might have something to do with what’s going on in the city. This is dark magic… Whatever it’s going to do isn’t good. We have to stop it."
"Uh, Belle? We don’t even know what this is. This might be way too much for us to handle; we can’t just go rushing in-"
"If we don’t who will? Something’s going to happen tonight and I know this is connected to it somehow. If we head it off now we might be able to stop it, or at least delay it for a while…"
"What about Dracula? Shouldn’t we try and get some backup before we go crusading against the forces of darkness?"
Belle considered this. But even as she did she felt the magic surge and coil like a serpent in the air, and it seemed to grow darker still, the clouds creeping lower. Time was running out far too fast.
"I’m not sure we have time. Besides, it’s possible he’s already wherever this magic is flowing to, if that’s going to be the epicenter of all this."
"If he’s the one doing this, you mean."
Belle fell silent. She hadn’t considered that. It seemed unlikely that the vampire could, as the bracelet curbed even the thought of violence against humans. But how did she know he hadn’t found a way around that? In any case it seemed waiting around or searching for him was a luxury they couldn’t afford, not with the darkness in the city growing stronger by the minute.
"Either way, we can’t just let this go. I’m going to follow this signal and see where it goes."
"And when we get there?"
"We shut it down."
"…we’re probably going to die, aren’t we?"
———-
Following the wolf through the archway, Dracula found himself in a great and oppressive darkness. Flashes of red seemed to pulse through it, accompanied by yet more pleading echoes. He tried his best to ignore these, keeping his eyes on his bestial guide. Soon after entering the portal the bloodshot blackness dissolved around him and he found himself back on the walkway where he’d first seen the vision of Baelfire. The wolf was nowhere to be found.
The vampire was almost ready to write the whole incident off as a temporary madness, but for the chill of the void power still coursing through him. With an experimental flick of his wrist he summoned his blade once more before banishing it back whence it came. Well, it seemed regaining his powers wouldn’t be such an impossible task after all.
Past the room of grates and walkways lay a maze of corridors with more guards scattered throughout. He was forced to traverse much of this as a rat, all too often having to switch vessels when he inadvertently scurried into some form of death trap. He swore violently, though this came out only as an irate series of squeaks. If he never saw another electrical wire or ventilation fan again, it would be too soon.
At length he reached the apex of the building, and after gnawing through a few wires- to the loss of another rat- he found his way into the center of the facility, now in possession of a small, white-clad thing which had once been human and still retained that appearance, but for all intents and purposes had given itself entirely over to the demonic. From inside the possessed being Dracula felt a pang of disgust; he’d always felt some disdain for the willingly turned, even as he made use of their groveling forces in his campaigns. Even as he counted himself as one of them.
The vampire shuffled his borrowed feet into a large, circular room, filled mostly by a mass of tanks and tubes about which stirred more humanized demons, the most notable of which was a tall, redheaded woman who seemed to be their leader. Through stolen eyes Dracula regarded her; surely this must be his quarry- Satan’s acolyte.
The demon woman said something to the workers closest to her, and suddenly the massive machine seemed to stir; thick, putrid gas spewed forth from vents in the machinery, engulfing the entire room and spilling out into the night from the open ceiling.
The effects of the gas were immediately apparent. The workers- not human, but still close enough to be affected- began to keel over and retch, and the smell of bile and vomit joined the noxious fumes in the air. Then they began to change, forms shifting and wrenching painfully into grotesque monstrosities, rat-like and ape-like things that shambled forth mindlessly. Dracula’s vessel was spared this torment; the being deteriorated into a mass of blood an viscera the moment the gas rolled over it, leaving the vampire standing exposed before the demons.
Though the gas wrought no effect upon him, it certainly had upon his adversary. Where the beautiful woman had stood, now loomed a wretched creature, all teeth and tentacles, pale green flesh marred by blackened, corrupted sores. Only her voice was the same.
"My, and what have I done to deserve this… Honor?" She smirked, the expression stretching her fanged maw. "The Prince of Darkness himself… I was told you were dead. I must say, you make an exquisite corpse, my dear."
"Do not mock me." The vampire growled, stalking towards the demon. "Now, are you going to come with me quietly, or do we have to do this the hard way?"
"Oh, and here I’d thought a cultured man like you would have some tact…" She grinned, impossible mouth gaping wider. "And I always prefer hard, lovely."
He snarled at the demon, fangs bared and bloody, but far from discouraging the demon’s advances only seemed to entice her further. She actually laughed, a bizarre tinkling noise that seemed uncanny coming from her maw.
"Oh, you are cute." Then without warning she launched herself at him, grabbing the vampire by the neck and tossing him aside with such force that he smashed through the wall. He landed hard on the grating beyond, all manner of broken glass, metal, and shredded wires still bristling with electricity surrounding him. From her perch in the gaping hole behind, the demon laughed again.
"Oh my, you really aren’t putting up much of a fight, are you?"
"The battle hasn’t started yet, hellbitch." Dracula couldn’t help but snarl back, rising up and drawing his sword forth from the void.
"That’s a nice trick." She smiled in a way that would have been sweet on any other face. "Let me show you mine."
She rushed him again, and he barely dodged her grasping claws. She continued to shoot around the room almost too fast to see, and he saw now that it was not so much strength she possessed and unholy speed. Almost in time with his thoughts Zoso’s ethereal voice echoed in his head.
"She’s too fast for you. Find a way to slow her down."
Dracula took half a moment to consider in between dodging the demon’s assault. He looked from her racing form to his freezing sword, then back, and formed a plan. He smirked. He’d have to time this just right…
Just as the demon retreated to make another pass at him, the vampire fired off an icy blast from his sword, hitting the creature square in the chest. She shrieked in rage, vaulting up to cling to the wall. She looked down on him with surprise.
"Oh, that was cold, dear. Still… I do like a man who takes control." She dropped down to the floor again, grabbing up a handful of sparking cables in each claw and thrashing their whipping coils toward him. "Now come on; let’s make this more exciting!"
Again Dracula found himself retreating; for all that the ice had slowed her down the cables had increased her reach. Now, however, the playing field was more even. It was a simple matter to exchange the void sword for his bloody whip and return each arcing electrical pass in kind.
Eventually he the demon slowed once more, not from cold but exhaustion. The vampire saw his chance and struck a final blow with his sword, knocking her unconscious. He would’ve gladly killed her then and there for her insolence, were it not for Zoso’s voice ringing in his ears to retrieve her relatively unharmed. So he grudgingly hefted the demonic woman over his shoulder, and in a flash of green light both vampire and captive vanished.
————-
The almost magnetic pull of the magic drove Belle onward through the streets, though her legs ached from running and her lungs strained for breath. Gaston had fallen somewhat behind her, his presence little more that distant footfalls on the concrete. She was unsure whence came the urgency that rushed through her, only that it bid her ever onward through the streets. Eventually she realized the force was guiding her uphill, to a lofty part of the city just below the hanging clouds.
She paused for a moment at a tall gate that barred her way. Beyond lay a shadowed parking lot, lit only by scattered street lamps whose sickly light filtered down through the gloom. The signal was incredibly strong here; the air seemed to crackle with energy and Belle felt it roving over her skin like static. She had just begun to examine the gate for weaknesses when Gaston finally caught up to her.
"Please tell me this is it." He panted. "I don’t think I’ll be in any shape for fighting demons if you keep me running marathons all night."
"It’s flowing into here; I can feel it." Distantly, she thought she could sense something else as well, an echo of the same calm she’d felt nights ago in Dracula’s church. She shook the thought from her mind; it wouldn’t do to get her hopes up now. "Now we just need to get inside and find out what were dealing with."
"Easier said than done." He stepped back and eyed the gate, assessing its height. "Think you can handle dropping down from the top of there?"
"Yes, why-" Belle cut herself off with a squeak as Gaston hoisted her into the air, bracing her legs on his shoulders until she could pulls herself to the top of the gate. "You could warn me next time."
"And you could’ve run slower." He grinned through the bars.
"Ok, but how are you getting in?"
"Uh…"
Belle sighed heavily.
"Right. Just hold on a minute; I’ll try to find something you can use to climb up."
With that she turned to the empty lot behind her and began searching- both for something to climb or open the gate, and for some means of entry into the building. She’d stopped to examine a loosely rattling metal screen when she heard a pained scream from behind her.
She ran back toward the gate but stopped short. Just beyond the bars, a thick green fog coiled down from the street, engulfing all in its path. She couldn’t see Gaston through the haze, though she could heard the sound of retching and a large body violently pounding the ground.
She crept as near as she dared, carefully avoiding inhaling the toxic smoke as she peered through the bars.
She had no time to draw her weapon before a festering clawed hand shot through the gate, wrenching the bars apart. She jolted backward, slipping on the slick pavement and landing at the feet of the creature that had once been Gaston, now corrupted and deformed by the miasma. It crouched over her, slavering jaws dripping. She frantically searched the black eyes for some sign of recognition. There was none.
With a rattling cry, the demon struck. Belle didn’t have time to scream.
Second “episode” of the Dark One!Belle AU rewrite. Also here on ao3.
The cave and the dank cell within were unusually quiet, the air stilled between bursts of mad laughter. Even the guards had abandoned their posts for the moment, obviously needed elsewhere to prepare for the imminent curse. Or perhaps they’d simply deigned her too unimportant to watch over now that she was of no further use to them, a corrupted tool best left forgotten in the dark.
But she sensed she was not entirely alone; amidst the scurrying beasts that plagued the dungeon she could feel a familiar presence. She quirked a smile before darkening in irritation. Her disguised visitor would surely only come here for two reasons: either to gloat about her victory- as if the devious little witch wasn’t playing right into her hands- or because something had gone wrong.
"It’s just us, dear~" she trilled to no one in particular. "You might as well show yourself."
As if waiting for her cue, one of the mice gnawing on a browning apple disappeared in a growing plume of smoke, only to emerge a tall woman in a dark and opulent dress, an unpleasant look on her face as she eyed the cell’s sole occupant.
"It didn’t work. Why."
"Well hello to you too dear. And what may I ask has gone wrong in your life this time?" The sorceress asked idly.
"You know perfectly well what."
"Hm, well everyone’s got problems dear," the sorceress smiled, pacing back and forth in the shadows. In the dim light she looked almost innocent, a slight and eccentric girl making conversation to pass time in the dark. "Why, just the other day I offered my counsel to Snow White herself…"
"What about?" Gods, she honestly seemed concerned…
"You know perfectly well what." The smaller woman mocked. "Your threat of course."
"And what did you tell her?"
"Only the truth, dear. That there’s nothing can stop this curse. Nothing, except of course her unborn child." She paused then, and the silent fury of the queen seemed to fill the dungeon like acrid smoke.
“Oh now don’t act like you didn’t know this. All curses can be broken after all, and their child is the key.”
Well that hardly matters since your curse isn’t working.”
"Ah yes, the curse you threw away?"
"Traded away, for something I thought much more practical-"
"Yes, and how did that turn out for you?"
"About as well as your curse is working for me now." The queen glared into the other’s impassive face. "I followed your instructions to the letter, and yet here we are. I demand to know what went wrong."
"Ah you see demanding anything of me will get you nowhere. I’ll tell you what you need, but there’s a price."
"There always is with you." She snarled. "Fine. Name your price."
"It’s just a simple thing, really… In this new land, whatever hell you turn it into for the rest of us," she turned her unsettlingly large blue eyes fully on the queen as if contemplating, "I want a good life, a comfortable one."
"Fine. You’ll have all the wealth and prestige you could want. Second only to me."
"I’m not finished, dear." She grinned. "What good is all of that if you may choose to destroy me in other ways? I want to be sure you’ll not turn on me. So, if I’ve ever any reason to come to you, and so that you don’t do something that… displeases me, you must do whatever I tell you to, so long as I say please."
"You do realize that once that curse washes over us you won’t remember any of this?"
"What’s the harm then?" She laughed.
"Alright, deal. Now tell me what went wrong with your curse."
"I assure you your failings are no fault of mine, dear." The Dark One smirked as a thought crossed her mind. "Though I’m curious, just whose heart did you use?"
"The heart of the only thing I had left." She continued to stare determinedly, though her eyes flicked now and then to the ground as if unsure or ashamed. It was a strange look on the woman’s face, one that likely hadn’t graced it in years. "My beloved childhood steed-”
"I’m sorry, did I hear that right?" The smaller woman cut her off with a strangled laugh and began edging toward the front of the cell; her features had gone unnaturally still save for the unsettling smile still glittering in the torchlight. Regina fought the urge to recoil; she knew the sorceress was meant to have no power here, but she was hardly aching to find out for certain. "A horse… You used a horse?"
Suddenly she lunged forth, golden and bristling with barely withheld power. Her eyes burned with blue fury as she gripped hold of the queen’s wrist before she could pull away. She clenched the joint in her hand, twisting with more strength than should have been possible and stopping just short of causing pain.
"I give you access to the darkest, most powerful magic I possess, and you think a horse is going to be enough?" She snarled. "Power requires sacrifice, Regina. A true sacrifice. You know what the curse demands."
"Yes, the heart of the thing I love most. That horse-”
"Obviously wasn’t it." The sorceress hissed, but released her death grip on the queen’s wrist, though she remained pressed against the bars of her cell. "Now don’t make this difficult, dear; there must be something else? Or someone…"
"The person I loved most died because of Snow White!" Regina yelled back, and it was all she could do to keep from rolling her eyes. Yes, yes, desperate revenge quest on a child; while Regina certainly had her assets her rantings were oftentimes more than anyone sane was willing to deal with. Especially now, when the time of the curse was so close at hand. She’d not endure any more incompetence.
"Are you sure there’s no one else?" She asked airily. "No one you truly love?"
At this a look of dawning comprehension seemed to wash over the queen’s face, quickly followed by a look of bitter resignation and almost, if the woman was capable of it, regret. But the understanding was there at least; she just needed, as always, a little push…
"Revenge is never easy, dear. And everything has it’s price. Would’ve thought you’d have learned that by now. You know what you love-" She smiled sickeningly through the bars, her face mere inches from the other woman as she blinked sweetly up at her, her face a mixture of angelic and demonic beauty. "Now go and kill it."
The queen swept from the cell without another word, and it was only after she’d disappeared in a plume of smoke down the corridor that the Dark One let herself collapse against the bars, sliding down into a kneeling position and shaking with something between bitten-back laughter and sobs. She knew just what the price for this curse was to be, had seen it coming even without her gift of foresight. She supposed it was fitting. It was the same she herself had paid so long ago.
————-
Nightfall in Storybrooke found the infamous Ms. Gold wandering the streets, an act that would have perhaps seemed a bit unusual if anyone paid any attention at all to her comings and goings other than on rent day. As it was the residents of the sleepy town were all too keen to avoid her, which she had to admit had its advantages. For example, the freedom to walk the streets unquestioned and unharassed, something that she was most grateful for tonight of all nights.
She’d spent the evening after her run-in with Emma Swan- the Savior, the Princess, the product of True Love, the Chosen One, all titles her brain had been swarmed with at the sound of the name- alternately pacing the expansive rooms of her mansion and curled up tightly upon whatever surface she found herself when the clashing memories overwhelmed her. Nearly thirty years of what she now saw as maddeningly repetitive life not so much washed away in a flood of truth as chipped away in bits and pieces as waves beating against lines in the sand. She found that she recalled the most recent happenings of her life at once, while the earlier years took some grasping at to remember fully. She was still in the process of remembering it all; all throughout the day portions of her life would come back to her vividly: a face, a moment, a deal, as she went about her business. Eventually though she thought she’d recalled every last detail.
She’d still burst into tears at the sight of the overgrown roses covering her home.
Now that it’d all welled up from whatever inner recesses banished memories went to, she mostly felt the need to let it settle into place. She’d need a clear head in the coming days if she were to see her plan to fruition. It was so close now- years and years of waiting and searching and hoping and now all she needed was to ensure the breaking of the curse.
She paused a moment when she noticed that her mindless wanderings had brought her to the edge of the mayor’s estate, and she could hear mutterings of frustration from just over the wall of hedges. She smirked at that; already the Savior was doing her job and making Her Majesty’s life a living hell. Oh, she’d enjoy watching this play out.
She waltzed over to the small gate and looked into the yard, pleasantly surprised at the scene of destruction that greeted her. She’d heard that there had already been clashes between the mayor and the newcomer, but she hadn’t realized these would result in the partial decimation of the former’s prized apple tree. Well well well, it seemed Miss Swan certainly took after her parents in one way at least. She strode into the yard with a benign expression barely masking her smile.
"Whatever happened to your lovely tree?" Regina’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice, perpetual glare going full blast.
"Nothing permanent." She seemed oddly cheerful for a woman whose tenuous grip on power was slowly but surely slipping away. "And what can I do for you Ms. Gold?"
"Oh nothing dear, I was just out for a stroll ‘round the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in. It’s good to see you in such high spirits despite your tree."
"Well I’ve just rid the town of an unfortunate nuisance."
"Emma Swan, you mean?"
"Hm. I’d imagine she’s halfway back to Boston by now."
"Funny you should mention that actually… I passed her just now on my walk, heading down Main Street with your son. They do seem to get along so nicely; you must be so happy for Henry."
The mayor’s face darkened with the swiftness of a falling curtain, though she clearly was attempting to hide her disappointment. The pawnbroker knew she could wait until morning for Regina to realize just how impossible it was to rid the town of its Savior, but she just couldn’t resist stirring up the coming storm a bit. If anything it would spur the conflict further on toward its inevitable conclusion, and they’d have their freedom all the sooner.
"You know perhaps next time you have a problem, you might consider asking for my assistance. Just a thought."
"Oh no, I am done making deals with you."
"And to which deal are you referring, Madam Mayor?" The small woman asked innocently.
"You know which one."
"Oh yes of course, the one that earned you your beloved Henry…" She smiled as if in remembrance of something in another life, something neither of them could acknowledge here. "You know I’ve always thought that was such a lovely name. How ever did you decide on it?"
"Did you do this?" Regina asked bluntly, quick as always to change the subject away from uncomfortable matters.
"With your tree, or…?" She asked lightly. "I’ve no grudge against your gardening."
"You know what I mean. Did you have anything to do with this? With her coming here. Henry’s… Emma Swan. Did you do this?"
"I haven’t the slightest clue what you mean."
"You did, didn’t you! You brought me to Henry for a reason-"
"Now hold on dear, I didn’t come her to have accusations thrust upon me." To be completely honest she hadn’t the faintest clue how her cursed self had managed such clever subterfuge. She chalked it up to the more mysterious workings of the curse, though she’d have to look into the matter more fully later. "So if you’ll be so kind as to excuse me, I’ll be on my way."
"Not until I get some answers, Gold-"
"Please." The small woman’s voice was a polite counterpoint to Regina’s harsh near scream, but the word may as well have been a thunderclap for how fast the irate mayor recoiled, as if restrained by some unseen force. Ms. Gold took the opportunity to pluck an apple from the stricken mayor’s injured tree and take a bite. "Your apples seem a bit sour, Regina… Might want to look into that."
Without another word she dropped the bitten apple to the ground between them, then turned on her heel and sauntered from the yard. Oh yes, this was certainly going to be entertaining. She turned her gaze up toward the now quietly ticking clock tower as she passed. Soon, she thought, I’ll see you both very soon.
More Castlevania!AU. Again, sorry for the delay between updates. Also here on ao3.
He was unsure of how long he’d been unconscious when he woke. The last he remembered, he’d been cornered by the demon in the alley- the beast was far stronger than he’d anticipated and, he was slowly realizing, more than a match for him in his weakened state. He’d dropped into a blocking stance when the thing charged, sending him flying across the pavement. He hit the ground head first, a sickening crack resounding from his skull. He lifted his swimming gaze to the demon with barely enough strength to remain conscious, just in time to see the creature still suddenly and then split clean in two at its stomach, as though cut by a blade too fast to see. He heard the sound of quickening footsteps just before the darkness claimed him.
He’d no idea what had happened after, but he was certain of one thing: demon, alley, and Belle were all gone, replaced with a hard sculptured couch and a darkened room, a pair of shadowed figures watching him silently. He shifted until he was sitting upright and blinked blearily, thankful that they’d at least left him in his borrowed clothes- the sleeve of which still concealed the bracelet. He’d no desire to reveal his less obvious weaknesses just yet.
"Welcome back, my friend." The familiar voice was like knives in his brain, hateful and scorned. Zoso. The necromancer stepped into the dull lamplight that bathed the room, grinning and infuriatingly the same as the day he’d been cast into oblivion, barring his strange modern clothing. "Not still tired are you? I would think you’d have slept long enough."
"I should have known you couldn’t leave well enough alone. What makes you think abducting me will change my mind about any of this? Did you think if you asked nicely I’d be ready to march to your drum like a puppet?"
"It wouldn’t be the first time, Rum-"
"For the last time, that is not my name! The man with that name died long ago. If you come seeking selfless heroes, look elsewhere."
"This is hardly a matter of selflessness! If Satan returns-"
"Yes, yes, you’ve said this before- world in ruin, mankind devastated, you and I enslaved in hell. Remind me again why I should care? I’d simply be trading out one puppeteer for another, and if it means I get to sate myself on the sight of you as Satan’s lapdog for all eternity, then I’ll consider that a fair price." As he spoke, Dracula grew more and more agitated, jolting from his seat to glare daggers at Zoso as he spat out his last words. Before he could advance any further, the third and armored figure in the room stepped forward, sword drawn and crackling with energy.
“Halt. That will not be necessary, Lieutenant.” Zoso nodded and his minion stepped aside, resheathing his weapon. “
"I told you I was done with this." The vampire snarled.
"I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer, my friend. In any case, I may have something that will persuade you."
"Your head on a pike, perhaps?"
"Hardly. We’ve been through that already, haven’t we? It didn’t take." He chuckled, walking casually over to a small pedestal in the center of the room. "No, what I have to offer you is something much more… Permanent."
"And what are you babbling on about now? I’ve had enough of your riddles, Zoso." Dracula growled.
"I can offer you an end. An end to your eternity of torment, a final peace for what’s left of your soul. I know you seek that above all else, why otherwise would you let countless generations of hunters come to slay you in vain?"
"If you know all that then you should know that none of those deaths "took" either. What makes you think you can offer me this?"
"Because, my friend, I can grant you access to something that none of your would-be executioners had: your old weapon."
He waved his hand above the pedestal and a shimmering image formed in blue light shone upward from its surface, coalescing into a floating replica of his own combat cross, long lost to the depths. Dracula laughed dryly at this.
"You can offer me a picture. We both know the real thing is lost forever in the pits of hell, shattered into pieces. How do you intend to retrieve it?"
"That is for me to know, but I assure you, when Satan’s forces reopen the gates of hell to summon their master, it will be possible to obtain it. Once you’ve used it to defeat the demon once and for all, I shall be more than happy to drive it into your heart."
"As if I’d give you the satisfaction. I’ll reserve that pleasure for myself."
"Is that an agreement, old friend?"
"As much of one as you’ll get." The vampire continued to stare fixedly at the glowing image of the combat cross, his Vampire Killer, his last hope at oblivion. He dared not hope for salvation now. Heaving a sigh, he turned back toward the necromancer. "Where do we start?"
"I’m glad you asked." He waved a hand over the strange pedestal once more and the cross dissolved into digitalized mist, replaced by a much larger image that engulfed the entire plinth. It was a miniaturization of a large and ornate structure not dissimilar, Dracula noted, from a part of his own castle. It seemed that not all of the appropriated city was so separate from its roots.
"What you are looking at is the headquarters of a large pharmaceutical company- I realize that likely means little to you, but all you really need to know is that it is currently run by one of Satan’s acolytes. Your task is simple: find and subdue her so that I may obtain some clearer information about Satan’s return."
"If we can’t stop the demon we’ll at least be prepared for him." Dracula finished.
"Exactly. I trust you will be up to the task, given your… condition?" The vampire tensed, forcing himself not to grab at the concealed bracelet before he realized that Zoso was likely referring to the loss of many of his abilities and relics.
"You needn’t worry, friend," he hissed. "Need I remind you I was still human when I cast your sorry hide back into the depths."
"If she were weaker than I do you think I’d not deal with her myself?" Zoso looked truly grave for the first time in their encounter. "Do be careful. I’d hate to have to track your carcass down again. There is a transporter at the end of this hallway; it will take you where you need to go. I will assist you as best I can, though I warn you my magic has limited power in that place."
"I’ll keep that in mind." He turned at the dismissal, striding down the marble hall toward the ominously glowing pillar at the end. "Don’t worry; I’ll be quick."
———————
Back in her apartment, Belle was studiously if unsuccessfully attempting not to panic. She’d run back to the car after her fruitless chase to thankfully find Gaston still conscious, if dazed and bleeding all over her car interior. At least she’d not had to physically carry him into the apartment- the man was over a foot taller than she, and weighed considerably more than a dried-out vampire. He seemed truly more shaken than anything, the bleeding stemming more from a series of scrapes from landing hard on the concrete than any deeper wounds. She was grateful for that, as her erstwhile houseguest had finished off the blood packets and she didn’t like her chances of retrieving more so soon without attracting suspicion.
Once Gaston was seen to- currently laying across her couch with most of his arms and torso wrapped in gauze- she allowed herself a moment of internal panic for her vampire- not that she considered him “hers”, by any means… but that was a thought better saved for a time when her mind wasn’t currently overloading itself thinking of just who could have spirited him away so easily. She’d barely managed it with him in his most weakened state- whoever the strange armored figure was had been able to take out a powerful demon on top of an enraged Prince of Darkness. To be honest she didn’t like her chances against whatever new force was that powerful.
From the couch, Gaston groaned, and she shook herself from her thoughts to tend to her injured colleague.
"Belle- what happened to the demon? How’d we get back here?"
"The demon’s dead. You passed out in my car and I took you back here. You were kind of delirious for most of it- I think you must’ve hit your head-"
"What happened to your friend? You never did tell me who he really was. Or what."
Damn. So much for passing Dracula’s vampiric powers off as a hallucination.
"He’s not a what… He’s helping me, and he did save your life back there."
"So you knew he wasn’t human then?"
"Of course. Don’t worry though; he can’t hurt anything human. I made sure of that."
"I’m not gonna ask how you managed that one. But since he hasn’t eaten you yet I’m inclined to believe you. So what is he? Not one of those demons in human form, right?"
"No, I thought he might be at first, but…"
"But what?"
"…you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. I’ve got a plan, and he could be a powerful ally if I can get the information I need from him, but the Brotherhood can’t find out. They’d kill him on sight and he’s no good to me dead."
"Not anything to do with you getting attached to him, then?" Belle glared at him. "Hey, sorry; just joking. But seriously, you know I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to."
"Alright… Well, a couple nights ago- during that bad storm, remember?- I was patrolling near that church…”
She told him the details of her meeting with the vampire, of how she’d not even sensed anything evil in the place until he’d attacked. She told how she’d thought of the bracelet, and of their agreement and his strange acquiescence to it. By the end of her tale Gaston seemed equal parts impressed and horrified.
"So you’re telling me I met Dracula. That the fucking Prince of Darkness and Pain and All Things Evil is living in your apartment?!"
"Was. He’s not here anymore, obviously."
"So what, now he’s off terrorizing the populace? What, you couldn’t keep him around while I was bleeding out or it’d be too tempting?"
"No, nothing like that. After I took you back to the car I ran back into the alley and he was gone; the demon was dead. I saw someone on the roof, carrying a body, and I followed. I wasn’t fast enough to catch them…"
"So now what? Dracula’s been abducted by some mystery shadow force?" He stared blankly at her in disbelief. Belle could only nod. "And now I’m guessing it’s up to us to rescue him."
Another nod.
"Great. Just great. You know, I’d like to go one day without your crazy ideas almost getting me killed in some horrible way."
"Could be worse; you did almost marry me."
"Almost. Thank god." He scrunched himself into as comfortable a position as he could on the tiny couch. "Whose crazy idea was that anyway?"
"My father’s, mostly. Not get some sleep; the sun’s coming up soon, and as soon as night falls, we’re going vampire hunting."
Throwing a bandaged arm across his face as Belle clicked off the light, Gaston groaned.
—————
The glowing portal deposited him in some lofty part of the city, a fenced-in lot overlooking the streets and buildings below. The night air glistened with rain, and the clouds showed only the barest trace of lightening along the eastern horizon, though sunrise was surely imminent. Distantly he wondered if the sky would ever lighten fully again, with Satan’s forces so close at hand. Already the atmosphere seemed heavy with power and anticipation. Or perhaps it was simply the noxious smoke pouring from the towers far above.
At any rate the vampire decided he might as well prepare himself. With a roll of his shoulders he rematerialized his cloak and armor, tearing his borrowed sweater to pieces in the process. He gave the bloodied scraps on the ground a passing grimace before reminding himself that he wasn’t likely to ever see the little knight again, unless she came with a blade to shove into his heart. He smiled, thinking that if there was anyone he’d met in this godforsaken city that he might give that honor to, it might just be her; her bravery and cleverness had certainly earned her his respect.
At that thought he was reminded of the slight weight of the bracelet still encircling his wrist. He could only hope that the acolyte didn’t employ any fully human guards, though given her demonic nature he thought that unlikely.
He paused no longer, shaking off his thoughts, and began attempting to determine just how to gain entry to this modern fortress. He gave his blood whip a few experimental swings, searching for a weak point. Sure enough, the force of the whip was enough to rattle a large metal door in a darkened corner of the lot- unlocked. He pulled the metal loose with little trouble, stepping cautiously into the darkness beyond. He supposed he couldn’t expect Zoso to give him much insight into just what he’d be facing here; no doubt they’d come up with some new and more awful varieties of demon in the centuries he’d been asleep. Sure enough, as he peered around a corner he caught sight of what had to be the most massive guard he’d ever seen, in blood red armor and clutching a an alien weapon he had no desire to be on the receiving end of. Just as he thought this, Zoso’s mocking voice echoed in his ear, reminding him of his own weakness. Still, he had a few tricks up his sleeve yet…
The guard’s heavy footfalls began to shake the hallway behind him, and he ducked into a deeply shadowed alcove to escape. He groped for the vestiges of his once limitless power, felt himself shifting, his form changing in the dark into a more suitable shape.
He emerged as a rat. Well, not exactly fearsome- he swore he could hear Zoso snickering- but ideal for evading large brainless guards. He slipped by the mammoth creature, narrowly avoiding the crush of its boot. Once he met with the closed door behind him, however, he realized another problem. Rats couldn’t open doors.
He noticed another area of shadow behind the guard and rushed into it, resuming his normal shape. He took one look at the guard’s turned back and smirked. This really was too easy… He crept up behind the man and let his consciousness flow into the huge form, filling over the man’s brain like oil over water. The body was clunky and gross, it’s gait ungainly, and he could feel it degrading around him. He had just enough time to make it to the door and activate the unlocking mechanism before the being completely disintegrated. Wiping some of the corrupted, demonic blood off of his armor distastefully, Dracula knew this was going to be a long and gruesome undertaking.
Somewhere across the city, Zoso laughed.
The door opened by the first guard led to two more, and no deep shadows to be seen. He peered over the stack of crates he currently hid behind- god, this was degrading, having to creep about like an animal- and saw a ladder leading to the room beyond. At the top of this, a flock of bats gathered, chittering just above the head of one guard. Perhaps this wouldn’t be too terribly difficult.
With a wave of his hand the vampire gained control of the swarm, sending the whole lot flying rather forcefully into the face of the closest guard. He paused only a moment to smile at the ridiculous flailing this produced before lunging across the room while both guards were distracted by the bats. He’d gained the ladder and jumped to the pipe above- receiving a rather nasty shock in the process- before they noticed him.
The force of the explosive blast from the guard’s weapon sent him flying, smashing him squarely into the metal grating of the adjacent platform. As he scrambled to the nearest shadowed area and narrowly avoided the new volley of shots from below, Dracula began to rethink his assessment of the difficulty of his situation.
Thankfully the guards were exactly as stupid as they looked, and after failing to locate their prey simply assumed he had disintegrated from the force of their weapons and went back to their posts. The vampire above slid down the metal wall and sat on the grating for a bit in an attempt to catch his breath. No, he decided, he didn’t much care for this modern age.
"Need some help?" His head snapped up at the voice, so familiar it ached in his unbeating heart. "Hey, over here!"
He stood and turned toward the sound, a small room to his left, and the impossible sight that met his eyes would have left him breathless were he still in need of breath. Before him stood the dimly glowing figure of his son, dead for what must be nearly a thousand years.
"Baelfire… How- is this real?"
"Never mind that. I can help you. Do you want your sword back or not?"
He didn’t understand, that weapon still remained lost to the ruins of his castle, unless… Unless what he saw now was a spirit sent to guide him to its resting place. Something in him willed it to be true, that his boy in all his unwarranted forgiveness was somehow helping him from beyond the grave. Stranger things had certainly happened. He nodded at his son, still speechless before the apparition.
"Great, then follow me." He turned to walk off into the darkened room, and Dracula followed. What greeted him on the other side of that darkness was something he couldn’t have imagined in a millennium.
Also known as the AU of an AU. Specifically, this AU. A retelling of Skin Deep, with a twist. Dark One!Belle and Spinner!Rumple. All thanks to my lovely Belle for allowing me to play around with her wonderful AU :)
The mountain air seemed to grow colder and thinner with every step, and it was all Rumplestiltskin could do to keep his footing in the deepening snow. It was only by virtue of Baelfire’s constant presence at his side that he was able to keep trudging through the drifts, the boy’s shivering form helping more than his wailing stick to keep him upright and his slight warmth a constant reminder of his reason for journey through the treacherous Dark Mountains.
It was said that nothing could easily survive a journey across these peaks, not even ogres. With no single village or villager along their way willing to offer sanctuary to a pair of war refugees, it was their only shot at freedom. He had heard talk of a being living in these mountains that could grant any boon one desired, so long as her price was paid. He would barter passage for his son across the mountains to safety in the lands beyond, even at the cost of his own life. He knew this was worth precious little, but surely he could try. It was better than waiting for the soldiers to come.
His one respite on this journey was that the numbing cold had chased all pain from his mangled ankle; were it not for the stiffness of the ice forming around his toes, he would almost be able to walk like an uninjured man again.
"Papa, it’s g-getting dark. We n-need to get o-out of the c-cold…" His heart sank at the constant tremor on Bae’s voice, which had been growing steadily worse as they’d ascended the mountain. His boy was right, of course; they’d not last the night out here without shelter. But the barren expanse held little but snow, rocks, and scattered trees, with not even a cave to make camp in. Not for the first time, Rumplestiltskin cursed his folly. He’d run halfway across the kingdom to save his boy only to condemn him to death by this bitter, unseasonable cold. Distantly his ankle began to ache as if in remembrance.
"It’ll be alright, Bae, just a bit further now…" He squinted off into the distance, where a passing traveler miles ago had pointed out the distant shadow of a structure nestled high into the peak. From the base of the mountain the castle was clearly visible, a black spot upon the pristine white. Now the mountain crags and the flurrying snow concealed the path and their destination, and he found himself simply trudging onward and hoping desperately that they’d not somehow gotten turned around.
The snowstorm whirling around them seemed to intensify, flecks of ice whipping around them in a fury. Rumplestiltskin clutched his son to him, drawing his cloak as tightly around them as possible and attempting to ignore the stinging flakes against the bare skin of his face. There was an outcropping of stone not far ahead, perhaps they could shelter under the rocks until the blizzard passed. Still something in him sensed that the snowstorm was, if not endless, then at least under the control of some force stronger than simple nature.
It wasn’t until they stumbled to the far side of the rocks that he became certain that this mountain was not all that it seemed. For just beyond the rocks a massive structure loomed up before them, larger and taller than anything that should have been concealed by the outcropping. It was as if the castle had simply appeared out of the aether as a blessing… Or as a trap.
In any case, beggars could certainly not be choosers, as Rumplestiltskin was reminded by the small form shivering under his cloak, apparently numb to the suddenly appearing castle. At least, he assumed the huge wall was part of a castle- it was hard to tell from this angle, as all that he could see was a vast expanse of dark stone, spotted here and there with casement windows far above him. What was most concerning, however, was the complete absence of a door of any kind. They began to walk along the wall, keeping close to the stone in an attempt to block out some of the snow whipping around them.
Suddenly Rumplestiltskin’s injured foot caught against something under the snow, and he stumbled forward, only just managing to turn as he fell to avoid landing on Baelfire. He lay there in the snow for a moment, eyes screwed shut and wincing in pain from his twisted ankle. His son’s shuddering voice brought him back to reality.
"Papa, I c-can see the d-door now!" He was braced against his father’s chest, staring up behind them at the stretch of wall they had just passed. Sure enough, as Rumplestiltskin heaved himself up out of the snow he saw a large carved archway had appeared in the stone. He stared blankly at the new addition to the wall, noting distantly that the howling blizzard had ground to a halt around them, leaving only a few gently falling snowflakes.
"Come on, Bae, let’s get inside." He pulled his son close again, soldiering forth toward the arch with renewed energy and trying hard to ignore his growing feeling of unease at approaching what was clearly a place of powerful magic. He could only hope that whatever being that resided within the shifting wall was a benevolent one, and that his boy would take his trembling for coldness and not fear.
He laid his frostbitten hand against the worn wood and jerked it back almost immediately. Despite the piercing chill around them the door was warm, as if a bonfire raged just beyond. He stared at the door suspiciously. He’d often heard tales of magical being lurking in the wilderness and luring in travelers with false promises of sanctuary, but he knew this was a risk he’d have to take. If not for his own sake, then for Baelfire’s.
Lifting his battered walking stick from the snow, he knocked as forcefully as he dared, the hollow sound of wood against wood echoing in the air despite the still howling wind. He waited, unsure just what for. When the door remained motionless, with no sound of life from within, he called out, desperately hoping that the wind would carry his tired voice over the wall.
"Hello, master of this mountain! My name is Rumplestiltskin, and I would make a deal with you!"
Suddenly the wind ceased howling. The snow stilled, the flakes still in the air drifting listlessly to the ground. It was as of the storm had been halted on command. He trembled all the more at the stillness. Whatever being it was that could control the very weather was doubtless far more dangerous than any ogre, and once more he found himself wondering if he hadn’t been quite mad in seeking help here.
Just as he was about to turn and attempt to flee with his son through the snow, the massive door creaked and swung inward, shaking off a layer of frost. A burst of warm air flowed forth from the opening in a mighty gust, and he screwed his eyes shut against the blast. When he reopened them, he couldn’t help but stare in shock at the sight before him.
Beyond the snowy doorway lay a massive, overgrown garden. The plants within were green as spring, leaves and branches swaying gently as if on a summer breeze. All were weighed down with blossoms of every color, though most held a deep red hue not unlike the deep crimson of heart’s blood. Dimly Rumplestiltskin recognized them all as the same type of flower- all were the most perfect roses he’d ever seen in his life. He stepped forward curiously, tugging Baelfire close as they passed under the archway. A few steps in they stopped, staring around at the bountiful outpouring of life after the dead snowy expanse of the mountain. It was as if they had died and passed into paradise; only the returning ache in his ankle reminded him that this was not the case.
There was a shuffling from under his cloak and his son emerged, no longer shivering but wide eyed at the sight around them. He made to step away from his father, but Rumplestiltskin was quick to pull him back, fearful lest the overhanging foliage around them hide some secret danger.
"This is a magic place, isn’t it Papa?"
"It must be… The man on the road spoke of a powerful sorcerer living on this mountain; it appears we’ve found them."
"Do you think they’ll help us?" Bae questioned, still gazing at the garden that was likely the most astounding thing he’d ever witnessed in his life. "I mean, they let us in from the cold so they can’t be all bad."
"I do hope you’re right, son…" He cast a cursory glance behind them, only to find that the doorway they had entered through had vanished, leaving only a vine covered wall. He hoped fervently that he’d not just led them both into a trap. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he started on again, gesturing for Baelfire to follow. "The least we can do is ask."
"And just what is it you would you ask of me?"
Rumplestiltskin jolted up at the voice, wincing as the movement jarred his ankle. Baelfire moved to step between him and the cloaked figure that had suddenly appeared on the path before them. Both father and son were silent, knowing instinctively that this must be the being they had traversed the cold mountain to find. Power radiated off the small form, and the heavy boughs to either side seemed to bend toward the figure despite the still air, as if the plants were reaching to caress their master.
"Ah- are you the Lord of this place?" Rumplestiltskin asked as calmly as he could, unable to keep the slight shudder from his voice.
"Hm…" The figure sighed laughingly and withdrew the heavy cowl that covered its face. "Lady, if you don’t mind."
A woman indeed she was, though easily the strangest either of them had ever seen. Her features were strikingly beautiful, her face one that would likely had been warm and inviting if not for the oddness of her skin, which seemed to be made of shimmering burnished gold rather than flesh. In the strange clouded light of the garden it sparkled in places as if gemlike. Her eyes had the same shine as her face, though the unnaturally large and bright blue irises had a piercing quality that one might liken to a jungle cat’s. Her hair was a deep, dark brown that fell in soft, messy curls across her shoulders, woven in with ribbon and brambles alike. The rest of her was still covered by her dark cloak, though beneath its shifting hem a few tatters of blue could be seen. She seemed at once calming and frightening, carrying herself like a princess while eyeing them like a witch. Rumplestiltskin had never been so terrified, and yet he felt no urge to flee.
"We’d like to make a deal with you, milady." Baelfire broke the silence that had fallen between them, and this actually seemed to startle the sorceress- for that she most certainly was. She turned her unsettlingly unblinking gaze toward his boy, and Rumplestiltskin quickly grasped his shoulder, moving to pull him back to his side. She smiled a little at his protectiveness, as though it was amusing to her. Distantly he realized it probably was- the thought that he could do anything to stop her should she wish to destroy them on the spot. He felt a chill run down his spine, as though they had never left the bitter cold behind them.
"I see my reputation precedes me." She spoke softly, but had no difficulty making herself heard though she was still many paces from them. It was as if the entire garden lay hushed in her presence. "Let me guess- a traveler on the road told you of a creature in the mountains that can grant your every heart’s desire?"
"Yes- that’s it exactly." Rumplestiltskin replied. "How did you-”
"Oh, he was one of the more foolish people to make a deal with me. He asked for… something extravagant, I don’t quite remember, and he simply didn’t have the means to pay the price for my services." She smiled sweetly as a little girl reaching her favorite part of a story, yet there was something vicious in her eyes. "So I cursed him to wander the roads around my mountain for all eternity and guide more desperate souls to my door. Rather unfortunate for him, but it’s done wonders for business."
She smiled again, this time as if telling a particularly daring joke, and all either of them could do was stare rather blankly at the poor man’s fate, remembering now just how worn and weary the traveler had appeared. Rumplestiltskin’s first instinct was to take his son and run from this place as fast as their legs could carry them, but he knew that that was hardly an option. He swallowed thickly despite his resignation. He had nothing of value; there was likely no way he could possibly pay whatever price she asked for her assistance. Still, he had to try, and beg her to at least help Baelfire, even if she must take the price for his son’s safety out of his own hide. He would walk among the dark mountains forever, if only he knew his boy was safe.
"Then I hope I can pay your price, milady, if you will help my son." He stood as tall as he dared, though his head was still bowed low in reverence. He felt Baelfire shift by his side as if asking why he would not ask her to help him as well. He squeezed his son’s shoulder gently in answer; they both knew he had nothing that would barter for them both.
"You still wish to deal with me, knowing just what happens to those who cannot pay, and obviously possessing nothing of value to me?" She moved in closer, still smiling her wolffish smile. "My, aren’t you brave. Or perhaps simply truly desperate."
"Please, milady, I beg you. The ogres are at our door, the drafts are taking more and more children every day- I cannot keep my boy safe there any longer. All I ask is that you deliver him safely over the mountains, somewhere he can escape this war, and live in peace." Rumplestiltskin’s voice trembled over his words.
"Papa, what about you? I won’t just leave you here!" Baelfire jerked away from his grasp. "No- I won’t go, even if you can take me! Not if he can’t go with me! Either you save both of us or curse us both to your mountain, but I won’t go alone." His boy, his brave, beautiful boy, turned to look him in the eyes, his own glistening. "I know you don’t want to lose me, Papa. I don’t want to lose you either."
"Bae- Bae you don’t understand. There’s nothing I have to barter with except my life. If that means you can be safe, that’s something I’m more than willing to give."
"I hate to interrupt this touching moment, but I don’t believe I ever agreed to any part of this deal, least of all the taking of anyone’s life." The sorceress spoke sharply, and both turned toward her again, immediately cowed into silence. "What makes you think your life is worth anything that I could give you, least of all something as precious as your son’s well-being?"
"I know it’s not worth much, milady." Rumplestiltskin moved toward her, head bowed, and kneeled down at her feet as best he could with his ankle still aflame. Baelfire moved to the side, averting his eyes as though trying to compose himself. "But my boy’s all I have. Please, if you have any sympathy in your heart, let me give my life for his. I’ll do anything you ask, be your servant, your messenger… make me walk the mountains, turn me into a beast to guard you, anything to save him. Please, it’s all I ask."
He was shaking by the end of his plea, tears falling beneath the ragged curtain of his hair to fall in wet patches upon the ground below. He dared not lift his gaze, fearful of another of her pitiless smiles, or worse, any rage incurred by his pathetic groveling. This was truly all he could do, to prostrate himself in the dirt in the hopes of saving Baelfire. Perhaps this was truly for the best; he’d be able to do more for his boy in death than he’d ever been able to do in life.
All was silent, even the bushes hushed as if in waiting for the sorceress’s judgement. He heard Bae sniffing quietly into his sleeve as though trying to hide his tears. She said nothing for a long time.
"You would truly die for him? You come here, shaking, to my mountain, you tremble at the very sight of me, and you fear not death?"
"Of course I do. But death is nothing compared to the thought of losing my son." He lifted his head then to see the sorceress eyeing him with a kind of perplexed contemplation.
"Aren’t you selfless. You’d make a fine knight if you wouldn’t shake your armor to pieces for trembling." He would have laughed at that if he weren’t so sure that and moment now could be his last. "Well, if you’re so determined, then I suppose I’ll accept your offer."
"No, wait!" Baelfire jumped up between them again, arms raised to defend his father. "You can’t kill him! I won’t let him die for me. Isn’t there anything else you can do?"
"I don’t negotiate deals." She told him, smile faltering into a stern line that seemed alien on her face. "However, those were your father’s terms. If you’d like to make a different arrangement for yourself, then I’ll consider a different deal."
"Bae, don’t-”
"It’s alright Papa; I think I can get us out of this." He turned back to the fearsome woman, standing as straight and tall as a newly-fourteen-year-old could. "What if you didn’t have to take us anywhere? What if you needn’t take me to another kingdom?"
"And leave you here? Your father’s right you know; there’s nowhere in this kingdom you’d be safe from both the ogres and the draft."
"There is one place." Suddenly Rumplestiltskin caught on to just what his boy was getting at, and he thought he could stand up and cheer, by gods, if this worked…
"I think what my boy means is, why not keep us both here, with you, in your castle? We’d be safer here than anywhere, and you needn’t worry about insuring anyone’s safety."
"And what would I gain from this, aside from having two more mouths to feed? You’re not making a very convincing bargain here."
"We’ll earn our keep, milady!" Baelfire cut in. "I can help clean, and we both can cook, and tend the gardens, and Papa’s the best spinner in the whole kingdom!"
"Well you’re certainly enthusiastic… A spinner, you say?" She seemed doubtful, but thankfully not angered. They might just have a chance.
"Yes, milady. Though, ah, I realize you might not have much use for one."
"You’d be surprised. Hm, well I’ll admit it is tempting; I could certainly use a good pair of hands to take care of things around here…" She seemed to consider the offer a moment more, looking from Rumplestiltskin’s pleading face to Baelfire’s hopeful one and back again. "You do realize you wouldn’t be able to leave; you’d never see the outside world again. Just both of you here, with me, forever."
"I understand. Bae?" Rumplestiltskin looked over at his son. Though he himself had literally no one but his boy, Baelfire had lost his best friend Morraine just days prior to the draft. If he agreed to this deal, he would lose all chance of finding her again.
"Me too. We’ll stay with you, milady, if you’ll have us. Forever."
"Well then, it appears we have a deal." She said, smiling wider than she had since their arrival. A sudden breeze blew through the garden, shaking a few petals off of the overgrown rose bushes. "And since we’re going to be together for such a long time, please, call me Belle."
Sorry this took so long; finals suck much more than vampires. At any rate, more Castlevania!AU Rumbelle. As always, also here on ao3.
Belle fought back a laugh at the rather indignant noise the vampire had made at her statement, and they drove back to her apartment in silence- hers due to silent amusement, his almost a petulant sulk. At the moment Belle couldn’t believe her luck- to have not only survived against the most fearsome force her order had encountered, but to have formed a cautious alliance with him- this was all going far better than she’d ever hoped.
Of course, the road couldn’t run smooth forever, as she was sharply reminded when she pulled up in front of her building to find a familiar car already parked there. She soon noticed its owner leant up against the wall next to the vehicle checking his phone, thankfully for the moment unaware of her arrival.
"Is something wrong?" Dracula said suddenly, and she jumped at his voice. "Are we not getting out?"
"Not just yet- that man there, he can’t know who you are."
"Hm, jealous lover perhaps? Or is he one of the Brotherhood? I could deal with him if you wish."
"Ex-fiancé, thank you very much. And yes, he works with me- probably wondering why I called in today." She worried her lip between her teeth, trying to think of some way to either sneak around him or find some excuse for the strange man in her car that didn’t involve her effectively kidnapping the Prince of Darkness. "Also no, even if you were are full strength that bracelet would keep you from harming anything human. And no, I’m not taking it off of you so you can maul him."
"Can’t blame me for trying… I’d kill for some fresh blood after all those bland bags you keep giving me."
"I’m sure you would. Now, be quite for a minute while I think of how to explain this to-"
"Belle! There you are!" She winced at the voice. He’d noticed her after all. "I was worried when you called in, you never call in, has something… happened?"
Damn, and he’d noticed Dracula too. At least for the moment the vampire looked relatively normal. Though the smirk currently stretching his features was somewhat worrying. She stepped out of the car cautiously, gesturing for her companion to follow.
"Nothing’s happened, Gaston, this is my-"
"Research partner; I am assisting Belle in finding the source of these damnable creatures plaguing your… fair city." Sure enough, before Belle could come up with a plan, her companion seemed to have formulated a ruse. At least he wasn’t claiming to be her new lover.
"Gaston Laurent; I’m one of Belle’s coworkers. We’re happy to have your help, Mr…." He trailed off, obviously waiting for the other to introduce himself. When he did not, Gaston retracted his friendly demeanor, eyeing him suspiciously. "You’re of the Brotherhood, then?"
"Something like that." Seeing the disbelief etched in the others features, he continued. "You must forgive me for not being so forthcoming in introducing myself. Names have tremendous power, and I find it is not always prudent to give that power over so easily. You understand."
"Of course. I’m more concerned as to why I wasn’t informed that the Brotherhood was bringing in outside help on the demon case."
"Come now, surely you must know the Brotherhood doesn’t tell you everything." He said this with such a sinister smile that Belle felt compelled to intervene before anything escalated.
"I’m ashamed to have to cut this meeting short, but I think we’ve still got a lot of research to do." She turned to Gaston and gave him the sweetest fake smile she could manage. "I do appreciate you coming to check on me. I’ll be back into work tomorrow; perhaps we can discuss all of this then?"
"That’s not the only reason I’m here, Belle." He told her solemnly, shooting another skeptical glance at the vampire. "Last night there was a disturbance at a church not far from here. The demon they found there was different from anything we’ve fought before, bigger, stronger, faster; they’re getting more powerful and they want us to investigate. We patrol tonight at sundown; bring your friend, if he wants to study the demons here it’d be a good opportunity to see the monsters up close. If he thinks he can handle it, of course."
"I think you’ll find me more than capable, boy." The vampire replied with a barely concealed snarl, sharpened canines flashing. Belle was suddenly thankful for Gaston’s obstinate obliviousness; hopefully he wouldn’t notice anything odd about the other man. The two stood tense on the sidewalk, glaring at each other as though neither was willing to make the first move. Belle was suddenly struck by the almost humorous comparison of the two: Gaston had nearly a foot in height over Dracula, though the smaller being hardly let that deter him. If anything he looked all the fiercer for it, and she couldn’t help but think that her bracelet must be in near overload trying to hold him off if his expression was anything to go by.
"Well then, I think we’d best get back to work now." She intervened, stepping between them and gently placing her hand on the vampire’s arm. That seemed to do the trick; his focus shifted to her immediately, his eyes narrowing as if he was unsure just what to think of her.
"Of course you’re right." He added, turning back to Gaston. "If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Laurent. I assume we’ll see you tonight."
"Right. I’ll meet you by the church at sundown." He nodded. "And Belle- be careful."
"Thanks for the concern, but I doubt I’ll run into much trouble reading."
"Wasn’t talking about that. I’ll see you both later."
He turned away before Belle could reply, getting back into his car and driving away down the street. Belle was concerned by his last remark; Gaston wasn’t exactly stupid, but he was about as perceptive as a brick. There was no way he could have figured out that her companion wasn’t human, could he?
"I don’t trust him." Dracula hissed, jerking her back into the present. She noticed she had yet to remove her hand from his arm and quickly retracted it; she didn’t dwell on the strange look of sadness that flashed across his features when she did.
"I doubt you trust anyone."
"You shouldn’t trust him either." She gave him a puzzled look. "No one knew you found me in the church, did they? Then isn’t it awfully convenient that your colleague is aware of a "disturbance" there not a day later? I’d watch your back tonight if I were you."
"I will. Yours too, since you won’t be able to do anything if you’re right and Gaston does try anything." An indignant look darkened his face at that, and Belle countered with her brightest smile. "Don’t worry though, we trained together; I beat him sparring every time."
"I feel so reassured. Not as much as I’d be if I had a sword, however."
"I’ll see what we can do about that." She smiled.
—————-
He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting when she’d told him she would be able to acquire a sword from her workplace. The building itself was impressive, at least as much as the old armories had been in his time, though this was much larger, massive stone columns reaching up toward the sky like some ancient temple. What surprised him was the distinct lack of guards- the place was completely vulnerable, with the only thing standing between the treasures within and any possible invaders being an incredibly aged woman sat behind a desk by the main entrance who’d smiled sweetly at Belle and eyed him with mild curiosity as they passed.
The weapons and other objects inside the building were contained in a manner that made no sense to him until he noted the likeness of the displays to the old method of maintaining ancient holy relics; it was then that he understood. This was no armory, and these same manner of weapons he had thought practical and commonplace were merely set out for display, the obsolete remnants of a bygone era, now little more than novelties for the public to gawk upon.
In a thousand years he had never yet felt so old.
He supposed he must have appeared quite dazed, for Belle took it upon herself to guide him bodily to a small door just off the main room of the building, saying nothing, as though she was aware of his distress. At this point he’d hardly be surprised- the girl was imminently perceptive it seemed. The door they passed through led to a room likely the same size as the first, though it appeared much smaller due to the numerous artifacts and storage containers piled up around the walls.
"This way, just down here…" She led him down the room a bit, stopping at a row of large boxes marked with numbers and strangely packed rows of lines that were incomprehensible to the vampire. "Here we are- I’m not sure which of these would suit you best, so you’ll have to choose for yourself."
She opened the first of the boxes to reveal a number of smaller ones, each of varying lengths but all roughly the same width and depth- there must have been at least three dozen swords and daggers in each of the dozen-odd boxes along the wall. Hopefully at least one of them was decently battle ready and sharp, he’d hardly the time to take care of that himself before nightfall.
Most of the boxed weapons were in no condition to be used in battle- many were brown and thick with rust, some were merely shards in their cases. Belle, for her part, waited patiently as he picked through the boxes, only wincing slightly as if in sympathy for the relics as he began shoving the blades ever more roughly back into their cases in frustration. He was almost ready to give up and face the monsters bare handed when he noticed that the swords in the last box appeared somewhat newer than the rest, though still undeniably ancient. Finally, about halfway through the box he found a weapon that he thought, at first glance, wouldn’t shatter in his grip. He raised the long blade experimentally, testing its weight. It seemed sturdy enough, and entirely free of rust. He lifted the tip of the sword to his other hand, testing the sharpness against a fingertip. Sure enough, a fat droplet of blood welled up where the metal pressed in. It was hardly a fresh weapon, but no more worn than any would be after a long day of battle. It would do.
He looked up to alert his companion of his discovery, only to find her sat down against the wall of the room, her face mostly obscured by a large book, and entirely distracted from whatever he was doing. He smirked. The bracelet might prevent him from doing anything with malicious intent, but it could hardly stop him from scaring her a little. It was for her own good; she really should know better to take her attention off of a vampire, even one as temporarily tamed as he was. With a loud cry, he raised the blade and swung at her.
He was on his back before he could fully register what had happened. The girl stood over him, combat cross held to his chest and breathing heavily, book discarded on the floor where she’d thrown it a moment before. His newfound sword was not far from it, struck from his hand before he’d had the chance to realize she was armed.
"Well. You continue to impress me, girl." He coughed. It was astonishingly easy to forget that breathing was necessary for speech until one had to reason with the person currently standing on their lungs.
"I’d be more flattered by that if it meant you’d stop trying to attack me." She stepped off of his chest and held out her hand to help him up. This he refused, instead rolling over to retrieve his weapon before standing. She dropped her outstretched hand back to her side, eyeing his choice of weapon. "Will that be sufficient for you?"
"Aye. It will do for now. Though it could stand a sharpening."
"Well if I run across a grindstone, I’ll let you know." She replying with a level of sarcasm he thought no being other than himself was capable of. "Anyway, we should head back to the apartment. It’ll be sundown soon, and I need to change. I’d wager you could use some more blood as well, if we run into any trouble."
"I could do with a drink. Shall we?" He gestured to the door with his sword.
"After you. You should wrap that up first, though; I’ll be in enough trouble for letting you borrow that without it being blatantly obvious what you’re walking out with."
"As you wish." He returned the sword to its case, not missing her strange half-stifled laughter at his choice of words. Perhaps that phrase had some new connotation in this time? He’d have to ask about it later.
For now, though, he simply looked forward to the night’s hunt, and a chance to sink his blade- and of they were lucky enough to separate from Belle’s arrogant colleague, his fangs- into something. Oh, he could practically feel his blood thrumming at the thought; he’d gone far too long without a decent fight.
———————
The sun had just begun to sink below the farthest parapets of the city when Belle pulled the car up in front of the church. It hadn’t taken them long to prepare, after her companion had finally selected a weapon. One short trip back to the apartment later and they’d reemerged battle ready: her in her leather coat from the second night at the church, and him still in her sweater for normalcy’s sake, but now armed and sated with fresh blood. He’d finished off the crate in her fridge, despite his protests to the taste. Perhaps the sriracha he’d mixed into the liquid had appeased him after all.
"Your friend is late. Perhaps something ate him already." The vampire snarked from the passenger seat. It was true; the sun was almost completely set and still Gaston was nowhere in sight.
"Oh, don’t be morbid. He’ll turn up. Probably just had some business to take care of first." Truthfully, she was a bit concerned. Her ex-fiancé was many things, but unpunctual was not usually one of them. "We should probably start patrolling. If what he said was right about there being an especially strong demon here, I don’t want to give it the chance to slip by us."
"Oh, good. I do hope you’re right- a nice, big demon sounds absolutely delicious right now. Not as good as human, but at least it’d be fresh." He followed her as she exited the car, and the two made their way around the side of the building, establishing a perimeter before delving into the alleyways.
"Just keep your voice down- Gaston might be here already, and he can’t hear you talking like that."
"Oh? Now I’m staring to get the impression that you’re embarrassed of me." He grinned, fangs almost luminous in the twilit gloom.
The distant echo of a scream caught their attention before Belle could answer. The pair froze, hands on their weapons as they looked for the source of the sound. Then it came again from somewhere behind them, the alley they had passed on their way. Belle turned to run toward the screaming, gesturing for Dracula to follow her silently.
At the mouth of the alley they paused. The screaming had stopped, and the space looked deserted. Then Belle noticed the hulking shape of a car shrouded in the darkness; as they approached she recognized the vehicle. It seemed Gaston had arrived before them after all. It was then that the scream sounded again from just around the bend of the alley, and this time she noted that it sounded distinctly male.
"Damn- " she ran toward the noise again, her vampire close behind. She may not have cared much for the man, but she wasn’t about to let Gaston get torn apart by demons on her watch.
She rounded the corner and found him backed into a wall by the largest and fiercest looking demon she’d seen. The thing glowed with a hellish light, its draconic yet ram-like horns lowered and bloody. It seemed to fight by goring its victims blow by blow, and the man hadn’t been fast enough to avoid it.
She didn’t pause a moment, instead rushing full tilt at the creature and wrapping the spiked chain of her weapon around its waist. She pulled back violently, jerking the beast with her and away from Gaston. The creature hit the ground with a shock that nearly pulled her down with it as she withdrew the chain. As the beast reared up and roared, however, she began to rethink her strategy.
Before the demon could strike, a flurry of metal and blood obscured her vision as the vampire attacked. The demon raised one monstrous pale arm to block the blow, shattering the ancient weapon.
"So much for that- ah, well, didn’t really need it anyway." The demon lunged and Dracula caught the beast by the jaws. "You take care of him, this bastard’s mine!" He hissed with such ferocity that Belle didn’t hesitate to comply.
She ran to Gaston’s side; he was still conscious, which was a somewhat mixed blessing- there’s no way she’d have been able to move his dead weight, but he was also clearly able to witness her companion’s inhuman fighting style.
"Belle- Belle, what-"
"Don’t worry about that now; I’ll explain later. We need to get you out of here." She dragged him to his feet, one arm slung over her shoulders as she helped him hobble past the warring creatures.
"Belle, what is he?" She turned to follow the injured man’s gaze back to the fight, and saw that the vampire appeared to be using a whip conjured of his own blood to fight the demon. She tried to shake the odd similarity to her own weapon from her mind.
"He’s helping me, Gaston; I’ll tell you the rest later." They reached her car and she heaved him into the back seat. "I’ll be back for you as soon as I can- don’t move."
"He’s not human though, is he?"
She didn’t answer. Instead she ran back into the alleyway, suddenly unsettled. The sounds of the fighting had stopped. When she rounded the corner she was met with no sign of the vampire, only the oozing corpse of the demon, neatly sliced in half. Wait- sliced? But Dracula’s sword had snapped in two-
A sudden movement from the rooftop above caught her eye. She looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of a tall, armored figure jumping away- with another body in its arms.
"Hey, wait!" She reached the nearest fire escape and clambered up it, desperate to stop the unknown figure that had taken the vampire. Sure enough, as she reached the roof she saw movement in the distance, and sprinted after them. The mysterious figure was fast, but she knew these rooftops well, and the chain of her cross came in handy for traversing the buildings with ease. Still, the figure was almost inhumanly fast, especially to be carrying the vampire as it ran.
Belle was just a building’s length behind them whey they disappeared into the shadows of a skyscraper and out of her sight. She couldn’t make out where they’d gone in the darkness, but she knew they couldn’t be far. But she couldn’t chase them any further, not with Gaston bleeding in the back of her car. She’d return here tomorrow night, and as many nights after as she needed. She’d find him. She’d hardly brought back the legendary Prince of Darkness just to have him stolen away.
Yet another installment of the ficmonster that is my Castlevania!AU Rumbelle. Also posted here on Ao3.
He had to admit it cheered him somewhat to learn of the Brotherhood’s decline over the centuries. It seemed the without a great evil to quest against the knights had faded into obscurity, a relic of the past much as he himself was. Though the girl- Belle, he supposed he would deign to use her name so long as she continued to impress him- was quick to mention that the order was not quite dead, though most ordinary folk had long ago relegated them to the annals of history. No, the Brotherhood operated within the city still, a warship with a skeleton crew, unseen and disregarded. A part of him wondered distantly just who was responsible for keeping the flagging order alive in spite of the greatly lessened need for protection against the forces of darkness. He wouldn’t be surprised if this were another plot of Zoso’s, an insurance plan should he fail to corral the assistance of his erstwhile ally.
"That’s why I came back for you." Belle told him as she ended her tale. "We’ve barely been able to stem the tide of demons appearing in the city lately. They just show up, like they were spawning from the darkness itself, and we can’t figure out why. Perhaps you could help us understand what’s going on."
"And why in all the levels of hell would I help the Brotherhood?" He barked a laugh at her, noting her resultant scowl with amusement. "Why should I care if the whole world burns up beneath my feet? If Satan himself raises from the depths, what makes you think I would bat an eye?"
"I don’t expect you to care about us. I do, however, think you’d care about getting that bracelet off. Which I’ll be much more inclined to do if you help me."
"Hah! The little knight blackmailing the Prince of Darkness! You are a bold one, aren’t you?" It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so infuriating. And he couldn’t deny she had a point- with that damnable relic on his wrist he couldn’t even hunt for himself, not unless he wished to lose a hand. He really had little choice in the matter, at least not until he grew somewhat stronger.
"I like to think so, yes. So will you help me or not? I’ll tell no one who you are, and you need have no contact with the rest of the order. I’ll even help you get your powers back." She drove a hard bargain, he had to admit, and if he had to be in the service of another, the girl before him was far preferable to Zoso. Less likely to betray him, at least; if she wished him dead she’d likely have killed him in the church at their first meeting.
"You give me no choice, do you?" He smirked darkly. "Very well. I’ll give you what information I can, and you shall assist me in retrieving my relics. Only, how do you know I won’t kill you the second you take this bracelet off? You may have been able to defeat me before, but you know well the extent of my powers. You can’t possibly trust me to spare you."
"And here I thought I’d impressed you." She smiled coyly at him before regaining her more serious tone. "And it would be awfully rude of you to kill the person who helped you."
"Monsters are hardly polite, dearie."
She said nothing, only eyeing him as if she was unsure just what to make of him. He felt much the same about her, this strange and brave creature who had deigned to make a deal with him. He supposed he should get used to this confusion, as so much of this world made little more sense. He turned the bottle of strange red liquid- sriracha, apparently- over in his hand as he thought. Even this small thing was a kind of mystery; in his time such strong spices would be the utmost luxury, and yet this girl, obviously far from nobility, had easy access to it. And this new “technology”, the bizarre magic that had enveloped the demon castle and deformed it beyond all recognition… Belle was not the only one who desired answers.
"Well, you’re certainly more polite than most of the monsters I’ve fought." Belle’s voice broke through his thoughts. "Since I’ve answered one of your questions, could I ask you something?"
"You may, though I cannot guarantee an answer, or at least an honest one."
“I’ll take what I can get.” She paused a moment as if composing her thoughts, no doubt any number of inquiries were tripping over each other and vying for prominence on her tongue. When she spoke, it was not the question he’d been expecting. “When I met you in the church, I told you I didn’t sense anything evil, if anything I felt at peace. Is that one of your powers, that you can conceal yourself that way, or is it something else?”
"It’s no concealment. Perhaps your ‘senses’ are flawed."
"The rest of the Brotherhood thinks otherwise. Even if I’m not sure how they work, I at least know that they do."
"I could tell you exactly how- that particular power was far more common in my time. There are those who are, by nature or by some divine gift, more in touch with the earth and its energies. Though there are always more who claim to have such skills than those that actually do." He shot her a mocking grin, curious as to how she’d respond to his taunting.
"Did you have such a power, when you were human?" She took him somewhat by surprise by ignoring his implications entirely, instead taking another opportunity to pump him for information. Though how this question could help her present quest he was unsure; it seemed she was being truthful when she spoke of her insatiable curiosity. This could be a problem, for her as well as him- he doubted the Brotherhood would take kindly to anyone learning the truth about his past existence, nor their role in creating his present state.
"Who says I was ever human at all, dearie? No doubt your books spoke of me purely as some product of hellfire."
"You did; you said yourself only vampires that were once human can still consume human food." She gestured to the bottle in his hand.
"There are many demons that walk in human form. Don’t assume that a pleasant face does not conceal any horrors." He took another sip of the spicy concoction as if to punctuate his point. She really was too clever; he’d have to throw her off somehow.
"I don’t believe you’re any sort of demon, at least not anything like the ones I’ve encountered. I’ve never met any powerful vampires-"
"That you know of."
"-so perhaps this feeling is normal. At any rate, you obviously don’t want to talk about this-"
"Finally, some insight."
"-so it must be important." She smiled brightly at him as he regarded her warily. Damn, she was going to be stubborn about this, wasn’t she? "But I’ll let it go for now. Perhaps instead you’d care to explain what you meant when you spoke of your castle- and by extension the city, I suppose- being possessed by some sort of demon? That might explain the presence of the demons here, if not the sudden influx of them."
He considered her question for a bit; she was certainly apt to put two and two together in a way that the rest of the Brotherhood- and indeed anyone foolish enough to settle here- could not. She was still incorrect, as he knew well why the demons were rising from what Zoso had told him, but he saw no dire need to volunteer that information. She’d likely whip the whole of the remaining Brotherhood up into a fury if she knew, and the last thing he needed was an all-out war in the city while he still needed to recover his powers. He’d deal with Satan when it became necessary, and Zoso with him, but not before.
"Just a moment, you’ve asked one question already dearie, I believe that makes it my turn to inquire." He replied, taking another swig from the bottle and emptying it.
"Alright. I suppose you’re right, even though you didn’t really answer my question." She conceded, and he had the nagging feeling she was merely humoring him. "What do you want to know now?"
"That’s more like it." He considered what to ask, wondering where to begin to fill in the holes in his knowledge. The empty bottle in his hand seemed as good an inspiration as any, and would give him an excuse to explore part of the travesty constructed over his resting place. "I would like to know where exactly one may acquire more of this substance- take me there."
——————
"You want me to take you to buy more hot sauce?" That was not the question Belle had been anticipating. Still, it seemed a relatively harmless request, of an odd one. And now, when she considered the seriousness of his expression, she realized the request for what it really was: a plea for exploration of the city; he wished to learn the ways of the time by observation. She couldn’t really argue with that, though they would obviously need to take some precautions.
"Well, I don’t see any problem with that, except for one thing- I thought vampires couldn’t stand the sunlight?"
"For the weakest ones that is true. For me, however-" He strode over to the heavily curtained kitchen window and paused half a moment before pulling the fabric aside. The sunlight washed over him and he did little more than wince at the sudden light against his eyes. "-it poses no great problem."
Indeed, Belle thought the sunlight did him some good, lending his deathly pale skin a warmer hue and dulling the red of his eyes to a grayish brown. It made him appear almost human, and were it not for his strange armor and coat, he seemed almost a perfectly ordinary and even handsome man. She refused to follow that line of thought any further, knowing full well the mythic power of seduction possessed by powerful vampires and hardly wishing to fall prey to it. Still, she’d have to find him some other clothes.
"There is one more thing- you can’t go out dressed like that."
"Is something wrong with my attire? You said nothing about it earlier."
"I didn’t think it would come up, since I assumed you’d only be going out at night. But if you want to accompany me to the store in broad daylight you need to look more… Normal."
"I have no other clothes."
"Can’t you just summon more from your blood like you did those?"
"I can hardly summon something I have never possessed."
"Alright, I’ll just have to find something for you to wear then…" She looked him up and down, carefully judging what she’d need to change and what could pass as normal. His leather pants and boots were fine, if a little unorthodox, but the coat and armor would have to go. She hoped she could find a shirt that would fit him; he wasn’t nearly as large as the stories said, but he was still several inches taller than she, and his shoulders a good deal broader. "Hold on just a moment."
She retreated back into her bedroom and walked to her closet as she recalled of a sudden an overlarge sweatshirt she used as pajamas in the winter that she had no memory of acquiring, as it was far too big for her. It might just fit her guest though, she thought. She found the garment with little trouble, thankfully clean and unmarked but for the logo of the city college adorning the front. It wasn’t nearly as elegant as she assumed he would like, but it was unremarkable enough to hopefully ensure no incidents. She returned to the living room and presented him with the shirt.
"Here, put this on instead of your coat. I know it’s not very fashionable, but it’ll have to do until we can get you some more clothes."
He took the offered garment warily but said nothing, and there was another flash of coiling blood around him as he banished his coat and armor back from whence they came. That was going to take some getting used to, she mused. Then he shrugged the sweatshirt over his head and pulled it on, feeling the material uncertainly. Thankfully it fit, though it was a bit tight about the shoulders. She was somewhat taken aback as how much smaller he seemed dressed in modern clothes.
"This is very fine cloth, is this common in this time?" He asked, and she realized belatedly that compared to the coarse clothing of his era, the soft material must feel quite luxurious.
"More than common; that’s the cheap stuff now. But it’s comfortable, at least." She explained. "Also, since that’s your second question in a row, I get to ask you two when we get back."
"I suppose that’s fair." He laughed sincerely then, not a harsh bark but a softer, warmer sound, more human than before. "Shall we be off? I desire to learn more about this place before nightfall."
"I’m ready if you are. Just don’t be too loud if anything confuses you; I’d rather not have any confrontations today."
"I can make no promises, but I will try."
"Fair enough."
———————
The strange contraption she’d transported him in last night was no less unsettling the second time around. The whole thing thrummed beneath him like some sort of monstrous beast, though with a regularity that unnerved him. He wondered exactly how it worked- there were certainly experiments with varying forms of propulsion in his time, and he recalled vividly the electric abominations he’d encountered in the towers of the castle, but this vehicle seemed different from either of them. He’d no great desire to know the specifics of the matter, however; so long as the metal monster conveyed him forth safely he’d no concerns as to how it managed the feat.
"Here we are." Belle declared after a few minutes, pulling the car up against the curb in front of a small storefront that even at midday glowed with a noxious light that Dracula had never seen outside of a sorcerer’s den. He eyed the place warily as he got out of the car, only fumbling momentarily with the odd restraints- seat belts, as Belle called them- and the small, easily missed door handle.
"What exactly do you call this… Place?" He did not know quite how to describe it; while most shops in his time would cater to a small, specified category of items this one seemed to offer a staggering variety of wares, most of which were entirely foreign to the vampire. Still, judging by the number of people milling about the building this was one of the cultural centers of this world, and it would likely be necessary to familiarize himself with the place.
"It’s called a convenience store, sort of like a small supermarket." It seemed to occur to her belatedly that he had no idea what a supermarket was. "Which is like an entire marketplace in a single building- they can sell food, clothing, tools, all sorts of things."
They made their way into the store as Belle continued to explain, pointing out the different sections of the store, which seemed smaller than it was due to the numerous small isles packed with items like so many merchant stalls. She took it upon herself to grab several extra items before they acquired a new, somewhat larger bottle of the spicy concoction that he’d grown so suddenly fond of. He thought he’d try mixing it into his blood that evening to counteract the strange tastelessness of the pouches. As they walked back to the front of the store as sudden thought occurred to him, as he’d noticed a certain deficiency in the market’s inventory.
"Can I purchase weapons here?"
"Er, most likely not. A bigger store might have hunting supplies or knives, but you’d need to find a specialty store for anything else."
"Where might I acquire a sword, then?" He was growing rather confused- how did these people defend themselves with no weapons readily available, especially given the continued demonic presence and the diminished state of the Brotherhood? He’d seen nothing remotely like a blacksmith or weapons shop on the way, and now that he was looking he saw that not a one of the citizens seemed to be armed. Well, that would certainly make it easier on him when he did get his strength back, as the population at large looked to be even more utterly incapable of posing any threat than their ancestors did to his armies years ago.
Of course, that was assuming he was a able to acquire any weapons of his own. His sword and chaos powers lay concealed somewhere in the city, but he didn’t like the idea of being without a weapon while he searched for them, and at present his blood whip would likely take more out of him than he could easily replenish without being able to feed freely. All in all this whole misadventure was proving a damnable inconvenience.
"I can get you a sword, but I can’t guarantee its condition. Most of the weapons you’re used to are going to be old relics by now."
"If it will still cut through flesh and won’t snap in half in the middle of a fight, I could care less about the sate of it."
"Well then I should have no problem getting you one- if you come to work with me tomorrow you can pick one out yourself."
Their conversation paused a moment as Belle payed for her purchases, handing over a number of odd bits of paper in addition to the more familiar coins he was used to. The merchant behind the counter eyed them somewhat oddly, though the man, barely more than an overgrown teenager, looked away pointedly when Dracula shot him a glare. If Belle noticed this, she did not remark on it.
He wondered for a moment as they made to leave the store about the girl’s profession; likely it involved access to some sort of arsenal of relics and weapons, perhaps not unlike the one he’d possessed for a time in his own castle. Though she seemed and odd fit for a guard of any kind; strong and undoubtably clever as she was, she was still very small, and would be easily overpowered if outnumbered and unable to move from her post. He supposed the Brotherhood must be growing truly desperate.
"I wouldn’t have marked you as a guardian of ancient weaponry, dearie." He remarked as they returned to the car.
"Well that’s a very dramatic way of putting it- I’m actually a librarian." He let out another laugh at that- that certainly explained the veritable mountain of books in her home.
"What’s so funny?" She actually looked offended, and he smirked at her.
"Well you hardly seem anything like the bookkeepers and scribes I’m used to. Most of them would cower in fear at the mere thought of a vampire attack, not take the monster home with them."
"Well I try to be a bit braver than people expect me to be."
"You seek to prove yourself as a hero, then?" He shook his head. He’d seen any number of naive warriors with that goal in mind try and defeat him to prove their own might and courage. He had, with few notable exceptions, felled them all.
"Something like that. Though, it’s more for my own benefit than any kind of glory or honor. I always wanted to be brave, so even if I don’t feel particularly courageous I always think I’ll do the brave thing, and bravery will follow."
"Is that what this is then, you taking me in?" He turned to her, watching her curiously. It seemed she might prove just as fascinating to him as he undoubtably did to her. "Is this you being the hero and ‘doing the brave thing’?"
"I like to think so." She smirked again, turning away from him and starting up the car. "And that’s three answers you owe me now."
Next chapter of my Castlevania!Rumbelle AU. Also on Ao3 here.
He didn’t need to sleep, as a matter of fact. It was only a symptom of his damnable weakness that he’d spent so much time unconscious recently. Now, with his strength slowly returning under the influence of the blood she’d provided him with- ostensibly without killing anyone, just as she’d said she would- he found himself wide awake and wary, taking in the small room she’d left him in with distaste.
It was obvious from the state of her dwelling that the Brotherhood compensated its members no better now than it had in the past. Though clean, the place was crumbling, all peeling and faded wallpaper the color of old parchment and creaking, ancient furniture in various sepia hues. The threadbare once-burgundy couch sagged beneath him, though the blanket she’d unceremoniously provided him with was soft enough. Not that he would use it; it was one of the benefits of his cursed existence that cold was no more a problem for him than it would be for a corpse.
As he continued to stare aimlessly around the room, for want of anything else to do, he mused that perhaps her modest conditions were less the result of underpay and more the work of her own unusual priorities. For along the far wall was a row of bookcases shoved full to bursting with tomes of all kinds, some likely ancient as he was and some obviously new, bound in a flimsy, glossy covering that was apparently common to this new era. He’d known no one outside of the ecclesiastical orders in his time who’d possessed so many books. Yes, this was the likely reason for her inopulent lifestyle- to acquire so much literature must’ve taken a fortune.
At least he’d not go mad from boredom tonight. Part of him knew he should simply return to his hiding place, bracelet be damned. He’d tried experimentally to pry it off, though it seemed the magic held just as she said. In any case, did he truly wish to go back to skulking in the shadows like a common ghoul, waiting for Zoso to come and retrieve him as if he were an errant child? Hardly. But all the same he could hardly wander the streets aimlessly, not with the Brotherhood obviously still present and patrolling the city. Much as he’d like to burst into wherever they’d made their headquarters and rip the lot of them to pieces like the quivering whelps they were, he knew he’d not the strength for it, even without the bracelet nagging at his mind. Just the thought of what he’d do with the Brotherhood at his mercy left him with a stinging headache, a warning of what should happen if he continued with this line of thought.
He’d have to recover his powers somehow. If what the girl had said was true, that these fools in all their insolence had built their city atop his ruined fortress, then his weapons and relics must be hidden somewhere within its bounds. He’d made certain they could not be removed except by his hand, thought was entirely possible they lay beneath some pile of unreachable rubble. He rested his face in his hands, contemplative. Even if he knew where to begin, even if he regained his full strength, what then? If he drove the settlers from his domain, if he exterminated the pests that had repurposed his halls, what then? He would simply return to where he began, alone in his maddening castle, alone with his thoughts for all eternity. At least now, with the original structure in ruins, the castle’s voice in his head was silent, though he doubted Bernhard’s demon was entirely dead, not if the city was still spawning monsters.
In any case, he’d not have much luck in this place on his own, he knew that. Particularly not if what Zoso had said at their last meeting was true. If Satan was still powerful enough to influence this world- did anyone in this place stay dead?- then he’d have to deal with that eventually. Much as he hated to admit it Zoso had a point; present events hardly boded well for either of them. But he’d not be the man’s pawn this time. If he defeated Satan again, he’d do it for none but himself. Perhaps, he thought distantly, if the great devil could return from hell, so too could other things be restored; perhaps the shattered remnants of his weapon, his only hope of solace, could be returned to him. Then he could end his wretched existence once and for all.
Regardless of what path he chose, it would be unwise to set forth on his search of the city on his own, not when the most constant of aspects of the world he’d known had apparently vanished. He’d not been able to see the once domineering mountains for the buildings- he was unsure even if trees or grass still existed in this landscape of blackened stone. He’d slept far too long; the world had moved on without him. He supposed it should have been some consolation that he’d no one left for time to take from him. He’d done that all himself.
He felt a twinge of pain in his mind. It seemed the bracelet would not allow him even his own black thoughts. At least it would allow him to focus on restoring his abilities. Once he’d done that he could simply slice his hand off and the bracelet with it; it’d be no trouble to restore, and then-
"Agh!" He cried out, doubling over as a jolt of pain shot through him. Well. This relic was either more powerful than he’d expected, or he was still weaker even than he’d thought. He clutched at his temples as the ache subsided, hearing a slight shuffling from the next room. It seemed he’d woken his host. He kept silent then, waiting until he heard the rustling of sheets and creaking of bedsprings as she laid down again, obviously unthreatened by his outburst. Oh, that burned him. She was truly unafraid of him! He should break down the door between them, and show her just how fearsome-
No, not again, he stilled his thoughts as he felt another shock of pain coiling up under his wrist, the metal band warming up for another round. He’d have to keep greater control of his urges, it seemed. He grimaced, though he suddenly felt a surge of respect for the girl that had managed to collar the Dragon, a feat that her brethren could not manage in a thousand years. He was at once reminded of his former self, so many, many years ago. He only hoped she was not as naive as he.
Now with a cold smile gracing his lips, he moved to examine her small library more fully. It seemed as good a place to start his search as any. He extracted from the jumble of tomes a historical text on the city built on a monster’s tomb and returned to his seat. He settled down with the book and began to peruse the pages for anything that looked promising, laughing silently to himself at the ridiculous arrogance of those who honestly believed they’d defeated him. With his mind thus occupied and the annoying bracelet no longer plaguing him, he waited for dawn.
——————
Belle woke the next morning to silence, sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. It was odd to see such a cloudless day in the city; normally the skies overhead remained stubbornly overcast, the city’s own smog covering what the natural clouds could not reach. The oddly cheery atmosphere made her smile, and for a long moment she forgot the circumstances of the night before. Indeed, it wasn’t until she was reaching for her door handle that she recalled whom she’d left (presumably) sleeping in the living room.
In an instant she regained her senses, the weight of her undertaking settling upon her narrow shoulders once more. She’d luckily had the foresight to take the day off from work, which would hopefully give her time to figure out how to proceed from here with her guest. That is, assuming he had deigned to remain in her apartment-
She opened the door and stepped out to greet an empty room. Her shoulders sagged in defeat; of course he would flee into the darkness the first chance she gave him, bracelet or no. At least her artifact was working- that he’d left her unharmed was proof enough of that- so that she was reasonably assured there would be no innocent casualties of her failed plan. She leant against her doorway for a bit, trying to mask her disappointment. And here she’d hoped she would finally be able to accomplish something more worthwhile than simply killing an endless glut of monsters. She’d thought she might find and end to this darkness altogether. She’d thought-
A loud crash and a muffled curse from the bathroom across the apartment halted her introspection. It seemed her guest hadn’t left after all. She cautiously crept over to stand before the closed door, pondering if she should investigate further. She hoped he hadn’t found some way to injure himself, but she hardly wanted to… interrupt anything. Did vampires even need to-
There came another muffled shout from within, and the door wrenched open. Suddenly Belle found herself faced with a very angry, very wet, and very naked vampire. Thankfully he’d had the decency to cover himself with one of her towels, though he was still dripping all over her floor.
"Ah-" he faltered, obviously not expecting her to be waiting for him outside the door.
"Are you quite alright?" She asked, attempting unsuccessfully to keep her amusement from her voice.
"I was attempting to bathe. Tell me, does the water from your strange indoor spigots come in any temperature other than boiling?" He sounded more confused than infuriated, and Belle couldn’t quite fight back a laugh, earning her a red-eyed glare.
"It does, yes. Did you try adjusting the knobs on the wall?"
"Hardly matters now, I think. I’m sure I’ve scalded off any dirt at this point." He pushed past her into the living room, and she thought that if vampires could blush he’d have been bright red.
"In any case-” he sauntered into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge. He paused for a moment, obviously not expecting the burst of cold air from within the box, and she though she heard a muttered "How?" escape his lips. Then he simply retrieved a blood pack from its box and turned back toward her. "Now that you’re awake, I assume you’ll be wanting some of your precious answers."
"That would be nice, yes." She looked him over for a moment. Unclad as he was, she could hardly help recalling her notion from last night that, yes, for an immortal undead vampire, he wasn’t bad to look at. Somewhat smaller than she thought he’d be- though he still towered over her own petite stature-, but obviously strong. She shook those thoughts from her mind. It would hardly do to be getting distracted now.
"But first, would you, er, like some clothes?" She gestured to the rags she’d carried him there in, laid carefully over the arm of her couch. "Those can’t be particularly comfortable."
"Oh, no need to trouble yourself over that-" He put down the blood pack and squared his shoulders oddly. She wondered what he intended to do. Then, torrents of blood surrounded him seemingly from out of nowhere, wrapping themselves around him in gushing rivulets as she watched in horror. Then the blood seemed to shift into something else altogether, and when the gruesome spectacle was over he stood before her clothed in armor and a long blood-red leather cloak, though she noticed something missing from his ensemble,
"Aren’t you forgetting a shirt?" Belle eyed his exposed chest pointedly, trying to keep her gaze from straying there longer than was necessary.
"No point in it; it’d just be covered with blood before long. Too much mess for my liking."
Recalling his manner of ripping into the blood packs from last night, she had to admit he had a point. Then her eyes glanced down to his feet, and the blood-soaked towel that lay there, staining her floor. She gave him a pointed look.
He rolled his eyes at her- some gestures transcended eras, it seemed- and retrieved the dripping article from the floor. He gestured over it with his other arm and the blood ropes returned, coiling out from the towel and leaving it clean, if still damp. The blood reabsorbed itself into his cloak, adding an inch or so to the hem.
"Thank you." She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture menacingly, biting open his blood packet and glaring. She paid him no mind. "So, I guess I’ll start with the most obvious question- though I’m now exceedingly curious as to why you feel the need to use your own blood to make clothes- how did you survive in that church for so long? It’s been hundreds of years since the last rumors of you still being alive, why stay dormant?"
"You say that as if I had a choice, girl." He sneered. "I didn’t expect to wake, to be honest. Normally if my physical form is destroyed, the castle would revive me in a manner of months. But it seems the castle’s destruction weakened that process, and I had to revive myself. Not by any desire of my own, of course… And for your information, the blood is convenient, and stronger than regular armor."
Belle pondered over the distaste in his voice as he spoke of his own resurrection. Did he not wish to be brought back? He seemed so sad when he spoke of it, eyes darkening to a deep gray. “Fair enough. Though I do wonder just how you managed to stay hidden for so long, especially in the midst of the city.”
"That particular church is older than I am." He smirked. "It seemed the castle still sought to protect me even as I slept."
"The castle is… Alive, then?" That was unexpected.
"It was possessed by some sort of demon long before I came to be. I’m unsure exactly how it happened. Do your books speak nothing of the Bernhards?"
"The original owners of the castle, yes, though it was always spoken of as a curse, not a demon."
"Of course. No doubt the work of the bastard’s descendants, making it out like the old man was cursed… I’m guessing they never told you he summoned the castle’s demon himself?"
"No, they didn’t. I’m starting to feel like there’s a great deal that the books leave out."
"You’ve no idea how right you are, dearie. History is always written by the victors; never forget that."
She recalled the soldier’s account of the “final” battle with the being before her, and couldn’t help but agree with him. It seemed there was much to be learned from her strange new companion. She smiled internally. She wondered if he was naturally being honest with her, or if he’d figured out yet that the bracelet kept him from lying as well.
"Well in any case, now that you’ve told me how you ended up in that church, I’m guessing you have some questions for me? It only seems fair that you get some answers too."
"You know you’re quite the hospitable jailer." He smirked, taking another blood pack from the fridge and leaning against the nearby counter as if he’d lived here for years, and she were his guest. Given that the ruins of his former home formed the foundations of hers, that was not far from the truth. "I’m certain if any of your colleagues had found me I’d have woken on fire, or never at all. Instead you wander into my sanctuary, completely unawares, fight off the monster maddening for you blood, and then have the gall to carry me back to your home and patch me up as if I were one of your own. You certainly are the strangest knight I’ve met."
"And you’re the strangest vampire I’ve met. And it’s hardly a prison if you can come and go as your please, is it?" He merely slurped on his blood and jangled the bracelet at her. "Barring a few necessary precautions, of course. Now, why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I fix myself some breakfast, and then we can get you properly acclimated to the future."
"As you wish." He swept into a mocking bow, but kept his eyes on her as she swept past into the kitchen. He then retreated to sink down into his former seat on the couch. Belle glanced over her shoulder as she made herself some toast, watching him flip through one of the books he’d stack on her coffee table. It seemed he’d a penchant for research just as she did. She smiled, turning back to butter her toast. Vampiric inclinations aside, they’d get along swimmingly.
She set the toast aside on a plate, retrieving a couple of eggs from her fridge and commenced making an omelet. Normally she hadn’t time for such a relatively elaborate breakfast, but as she assumed she was to spend the majority of the day bringing a centuries old vampire up to speed on world events, she felt some brain food was in order. She was just grasping the handle of the skillet to flip her omelet when she sensed rather than felt a hot breath over her shoulder.
She jolted back, colliding sharply with the being who’d apparently seen fit to sidle up behind her. She revised the skillet like a weapon as she turned, her half-cooked omelet nearly flying out. She stood face to face with her guest, with him stepping back as far as the narrow breakfast bar would allow, hands raised defensively. She noted his smirk with disdain.
"Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on people?"
"My apologies; I must confess it’s a habit." He leaned in close again, eyeing her prospective breakfast with interest. "I was simply curious as to what constitutes a meal in this time. What exactly is that concoction?"
"This? Is an omelet. Eggs and cheese mostly. If you’d wait just a bit I’d be happy to explain it in detail to you." She didn’t buy his "curiosity" for a moment. More then likely he was simply testing the limits of the bracelet’s restrictive powers. In any case it was obviously working, or he’d have had his fangs deep into her neck by now. It still bothered her that she couldn’t sense him, at least not as any source of malevolence. If anything, all she felt when he was near was the same odd sort of calm she’d felt in the church, as if some ancient saint were watching over her. Part of her wondered if this were some trick of the vampire’s, designed to make her doubt her judgement. Either way she’d have to be more wary around him from now on. Polite as he was, it wouldn’t do to forget who- and what- she was dealing with.
"You must forgive my impatience. This world is very strange, and I’d like to get my bearings as soon as possible. Even if I have to start with something as mundane as these… Omelets."
Belle didn’t think she’d ever heard the name of a breakfast food uttered so disdainfully.
"Well if you’d like to observe my food preparation, would you mind getting the small red bottle from the door of the fridge for me?" She supposed as long as the vampire was looming over her shoulder he might as well be useful.
"As you wish." Belle fought back a giggle that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed. He arched an eyebrow at her as he retrieved the hot sauce from the fridge, once more seeming taken aback at the sudden burst of cold air.
"Is something amusing, dearie?" He muttered darkly as he handed over the bottle.
"Nothing, nothing… I’ll explain it later." She mentally added The Princess Bride to her steadily growing list of pop culture to expose her guest to. She tipped a small portion of the red liquid onto her omelet, retrieving a fork from a drawer and walking back to the bar with her breakfast on a plate. Dracula followed, picking up the discarded bottle and examining it curiously.
"What exactly is this potion? It does bear a strong resemblance to blood. I wonder…" He unscrewed the cap and gave the contents an uncertain sniff.
"Actually that’s-" She began, but cut off as he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a deep swig. "…sriracha."
"Strange. I’ve never tasted such an odd- and strong- combination of spices before." He took another sip. "I quite like it."
"I thought vampires couldn’t eat human food." Belle told him, taking a bite of her omelet.
"Well have you ever asked one?" He smirked. "Actually, most can’t. It only the higher level ones, those that can still appear human, that can still stomach it. Even then, it’s about as nourishing as air. But the taste is fine."
"I can’t say that I’ve ever talked to one before, no. There’re hardly any vampires left nowadays; most of them were killed by hunters a long time ago. You’re the first one I’ve encountered."
"Is that so?" He muttered, his eyes once more darkening strangely. "Are you certain the monsters just haven’t learned better ways to conceal themselves?"
"I’m hardly certain of anything after running across you in that church."
"Hmm. Clever girl indeed."
"I try to be. Now, I suppose you’re pretty confused as to what sort of world you’ve woken up in…" She began, gesturing idly with her forkful of eggs.
"That would be an understatement."
"Well, since we’ve got a lot to discuss, is there anywhere you’d like to begin?"
"Yes. Tell me dearie, what has become of the Brotherhood?"
Inspired by this song. Takes place in between this and these two fics.
The nights, he'd found, were the worst. During the days he could keep himself occupied with either his boy or his deals, remaining busy enough to keep from becoming too lost in his thoughts. Even dealing with Milah, increasingly infuriating as that was, allowed him some twisted form of reprieve. Until she too grew tired of the farce they'd called a marriage, running off into the night to gods knew where. He'd almost not wanted to come home that night, dreading explaining to Baelfire that he'd just lost his second mother figure in as many months. He'd shuddered internally when he saw not so much despair as resignation in his son's eyes when he'd told him his mother wasn't coming home. He was getting used to it.
To course Gold knew it was his own fault. He could hardly blame Milah for leaving; if it weren't for Bae he'd have left her himself years ago instead of trying to halfheartedly convince himself he was in love with the woman who couldn't even look at him without obvious disgust.
As for Belle... Well, he really should have seen that coming. How could he possibly hope that someone as good and pure and beautiful as she could possibly not be repulsed by him? She was bound to leave eventually... It seemed that was his lot in life, being left. He felt a pang of heartache when he found himself wondering just how long it would be before he lost Baelfire as well. His son was already growing despondent as the months passed, no matter how he tried to hide it with more maturity than should ever be found in a boy his age, and Gold knew it wouldn't be long before he grew tired of the gloomy old man his rather was becoming.
Gold turned all of this over in his mind one rainy afternoon as he sat in his shop. Bae was gone with his mother for the weekend; it was truly ironic how Milah only seemed to want to mother him when she knew she was taking him away from Gold. The rain outside had kept any customers away all day, and part of him wondered just why he'd bothered opening shop today at all. He ran his hand absentmindedly over the handle of his cane, trying to decide whether or not to close early and just head home. Bit then, he supposed sitting alone in his house wasn't much better than sitting alone in the shop.
At length, he decided to fix himself some tea. It had taken him weeks to get out of the habit of automatically making a full pot, and often he'd ended up pouring most of the tea down the drain. Occasionally Bae would take a cup with him, but tea made the boy, like his father, think of his absent babysitter, and eventually Gold could take the sad, faraway look in his eyes no longer and had stopped offering. Now he simply took his lonely cup in the back of the shop, so that anyone entering the shop wouldn't question his broken expression as he sipped his tea. As if anyone would care.
He knew it was madness to carry on the way he did, hopelessly mourning over a lost love that hadn't ever truly been and now would never be. He wondered just how far he was from completely insane, to be still in this state when she'd been gone for... He realized with a jolt that it'd been a year to the day that Belle had walked out of his shop for the last time, off to find adventure and the happy ending she deserved- one without a crippled old man who could offer her nothing more than tea and desperation.
Something in him, some tiny, trembling, pathetic part still hoped she'd return. That one day she'd wander back into his life as easily as she'd gone out, and they could be the family that he'd always longed for. The logical part of him knew the fallacy in this thought, but it seemed that it was the only thing that brought him solace these days. It was that same little hope that had him setting out tea for two, watching the door and listening intently for the chiming bell and the sound of her voice. The part that grew just a bit weaker with every pot of tea left to grow cold, every night spent alone in an empty house, every silent moment that ached emptily without her laughter.
Little by little, the cold, cruel, stiffly stoic part of him, the part that he supposed his bitter life had born in him and Belle had kept at bay, grew, even as his hope strangled and died. He took some sick pleasure in living up to his feared reputation, in snatching the hope from those who, like he, were foolish enough to give their desperate hearts to dreams that could not be. If anyone noticed the change in him, none mentioned it, no doubt simply assuming that he'd been a monster all along, merely pretending otherwise in an attempt to woo his pretty employee. There were days he believed it himself. Baelfire had spoken about it in the early days, when it became apparent that his father's dealings were growing more and more cruel, when parents began to forbid their children any contact with the son of the town's fearsome pawnbroker and he found himself faced with entire classes of his peers who would avert their eyes from his.
Knowing how his actions were affecting his son should have been the end of it, but he found himself only growing colder, perhaps out of fear that someone slighted in a deal would harm the boy and hoping to intimidate his way to becoming untouchable. Perhaps he simply didn't know how to stop. In the end his son too pulled away from him just as Gold knew he would, and a part of him was almost glad at this. Perhaps now the boy would escape the grasping shadow that entangled Gold, had entangled his father before him. The boy was better off having nothing to do with him.
He still could not stop thinking of Belle. He shuddered to think what she would say if she could see him now, if she could even do more than stand in horrified silence before the beast that her former friend had turned himself into. Yes, it was most certainly better that she'd left when she had, when he still had some shred of humanity left to cling to, before the mask had fallen away to reveal the monster he always was beneath his suits and smiles.
Still there were days, few and far between, that the monster still recalled his humanity, recalled when he would pretend to be someone worth something, when that most beautiful girl almost had him believing it was true. On those days he would meticulously brew himself a cup of rose-and-hawthorn tea, set out for two, and wait. He would sit alone for hours, sipping at cup after cup until each was emptied, the dregs of the last always ending up watered down before he realized he was crying.
aka the HappyRenFaire version of "The Price of Gold". In which there is pepper spray but not brain damage, Baelfire is protective, and Gold does the right thing.
Gold almost sighed; this was not the first time he'd dealt with would-be burglars, and by now he had developed his own special means of dealing with them. Carefully acting as if he'd noticed nothing odd, he sauntered down the back alley toward his car, only to turn and re-enter the shop by its little-known back door. His suspicions were confirmed almost immediately- there came the sound of breaking glass from the front of the shop. He only hoped it was just the door this time and not one of the windows. Gold silently retrieved the small pistol he kept in his desk, moving stealthily to peer through the shop's dividing curtain at the intruder.
Gold was, to say the least, surprised at what he saw. Instead of a masked thug or a desperate addict seeking quick cash, he was met with a small woman standing timidly in the shop and gazing around shakily, her face shadowed. Yes, this was certainly an unexpected turn of events. Gold slowly set down the pistol, not wanting to scare the girl. He still wondered what woman could possibly seek to rob him- then she stepped forward and her face was illuminated by the glow of an emergency light; Gold recognized her instantly: Ashley Boyd, one of his more recent deals. Oh no, this would not be pleasant in the least. Unwilling to delay the inevitable any longer, Gold emerged from behind the curtain.
"Something I can help you with, dearie?" He forced down a smile at the startled look on her face. "I didn't think so. Now, just what do you think you're doing, Miss Boyd?"
The girl trembled silently for a moment, and nothing could prepare him for what she did next.
"Changing my life!" She shouted, and before Gold could react she brought up a can of pepper spray and caught him full in the face. He gave a pained cry and fell backward, clutching at his eyes as they burned. Then he felt his head collide with the sharp corner of one of his display cases, and all went black.
--------------
It was not uncommon for Baelfire's father to work late, but after some time with nary a phone call from the pawnbroker both Bae and Belle grew concerned. Once they were the only two left in the library they decided that, as the shop was just across the street, they would pop over and investigate. Surely nothing serious had happened, perhaps Gold was simply caught up with a client and had been unable to contact them.
Such thoughts flew away at the sight of the shop's door hanging open, one of its glass panes shattered. Bae was the first to rush into the shop, stopping short for a moment to glance about for robbers before noticing his father lying unconscious between the counter and the display cases.
"Papa!" The boy yelled, diving to crouch over the still man, face blanching at the sight of the still bleeding gash just below his hairline. He calmed a bit when he saw that his father's chest still rose and fell steadily, though he felt his heart would pound out of his chest when he Gold did not wake despite his shaking.
"Belle, call an ambulance!" He shouted to the woman who had run up behind him and was now watching them both in fearful concern.
"Wha...? No, no don't do that- that won't be necessary." Gold muttered dazedly, finally coming around. He pulled himself into a sitting position with Bae's help, hissing in pain as he attempted to open his eyes, still gushing with tears from the pepper spray.
"What happened here?" Belle was the first to recover from her shock, looking from Gold to the damaged shop and back again.
"What happened was-" Gold stood up shakily, leaning on Baelfire for support. "I attempted to fend off a burglar. Obviously, I was unsuccessful."
"Papa, we need to get you to the hospital, ok?" Bae told him, still shaken from the ordeal but determined to make sure his father was alright.
"I told you, there's no need-" He stopped short as Belle marched up to him, gingerly lifting his hair away from the cut on his forehead.
"I'll be the judge of that. That's an awfully nasty cut, for one, never mind the possible concussion... Can you open your eyes, love?" He did so, fighting against the burning sensation for just a moment, long enough for Belle to take in their bloodshot state. "Yeah, you're going to the hospital. Bae, could you get your father's car keys for me?"
"Belle, sweetheart, you don't have to do this-" He protested as Baelfire retrieved the keys from where they'd apparently been discarded on the counter. He couldn't recall if he'd done that or if Ashley had rifled through his pockets after knocking him out.
"Yes I do. I'll not have you going blind or getting brain damage just because you're too stubborn to go to the hospital."
"I won't... brain damage... dear."
"Uh-huh. C'mon, off to the car with you."
The ride to the hospital was mercifully quick if not painless; Belle could never quite get used to driving Gold's Cadillac. Thankfully the car's owner couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to judge her driving skills. The emergency room was practically empty as always, and in no time at all Gold was ushered to an examination room. When Belle and Bae tried to follow, the rather severe looking nurse stopped them, nudging them back to the waiting area until Whale had finished his examination.
Belle settled into a chair with full view of the door Gold had disappeared into, Baelfire sitting next to her and staring pointedly at the floor. His hands fidgeted in a nervous rhythm, and Belle reached over to throw an arm around the worried boy's shoulders.
"Hey, your Dad's going to be just fine, alright? He's a tough one."
"I know. I just hope they make whoever did this pay for it." Bae's eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them, full of hot fury for the person who'd attacked his father. In that instant Belle could see clearly how much the boy favored his father, fierce protective instincts and all.
Before Belle could respond, the exam room door opened and Gold walked out, still shielding his eyes and with a bandage over his cut, but otherwise unchanged. Whale followed close behind holding a plastic bottle which he handed over the Belle.
"He's a lucky one; he took a pretty hard hit, but no concussion. Here's some eye drops for him; just flush his eyes out every few hours or so until the burning stops. Don't worry kid, your dad'll be back to terrorizing the town in no time."
"Thank you, Doctor." Belle replied, taking Gold by the arm. Bae simply nodded at the man and the three of them made their way back to the car. The ride back to the pink house was silent, all still trying to process the nights events and Gold still coping with his stinging eyes.
Back home Belle had Gold laid across her lap on the big sofa, dripping the supposedly soothing solution into his eyes as the man hissed and moaned. Really, for a man so well feared, he didn't try very hard to appear tough or stoic, wincing and whimpering every time Belle had him open his eyes.
"I know, I know it hurts love; we just need to get this washed out of your eyes and it'll all be better, yeah?"
"Ahhhh- I could just- magic this away if I could just concentrate." The poor man complained. "...Feels like my face is melting."
"Shouldn't we call the sheriff, Papa? See if they can catch who did this?" Bae sat perched on the edge of Gold's armchair, not taking his eyes off his father for a moment.
"There's no need to get the police involved, son. I'm- more than capable of handling this on my own. Don't you worry."
"Papa, someone attacked you!" Baelfire replied in shock. "What it they come back? They hurt you; you can't just let them get away with this."
"Baelfire... This may be a bit more complicated than that. The person that attacked me may have felt she had good reason to do what she did, and-"
"What do you mean? Oh gods no; tell me this isn't another one of your deals. You told me you were done with that!"
"I was... This was a special circumstance. I can hardly keep people from asking for my help, can I?"
"No, but you don't have to say yes... You know what happen when you make deals like this! People always get hurt; you get hurt..."
"Baelfire, please... Just trust me and let me handle this, alright? It's nothing for you to worry about."
"I wish I could believe that."
"Baelfire..."
"Papa. Please, just promise me that no one else will get hurt this time. That you'll do the right thing."
"I promise." Gold said earnestly, looking up at his boy through red but slowly clearing eyes. "Now, it's getting late and you have school tomorrow, so-"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going..." Bae walked off toward the stairs. "Goodnight. Be good for Belle, ok Papa?"
"Goodnight, Bae, and I'll try..." Gold chuckled, looking up at Belle, who smiled back at him before turning back to Bae.
"Goodnight, Bae." She said. Bae smiled tiredly at them both before heading up to bed for the night, leaving the two lovers alone on the couch.
"So how're your eyes? Your head?"
"Still there, far as I can tell..." That drew a small giggle from Belle. "Don't you worry about me either; I'm a tough old monster, love."
"Not a monster." Belle sighed. "Now, are you going to tell me what all this is about outright, or am I going to have to wheedle it out of you?"
"I'm too tired for wheedling tonight... Outright it is."
Gold then proceeded to the her of how, roughly a month ago, a woman had come into his shop and asked for his assistance. Her young stepdaughter had fallen pregnant, she said, and was in no shape, financially or emotionally, to care for the child. The father of the girl's baby, meanwhile, had had no contact with the girl, having been forbidden by his father to see her. She simply wanted a way to preserve her stepdaughter's future and ensure that the child was cared for by someone with the capabilities to do so. It had not taken longer than a few hours and a couple of phone calls before Gold had drawn up a contract that would provide the child with a loving home and the mother with several thousand dollars in compensation. All seemed to go smoothly, and that very afternoon the poor girl in question was brought into his shop to sign the contract. At the time she seemed perfectly content with the agreement.
Now, a month later, she was breaking into his shop and attacking him, all in the name of "changing her life", whatever that meant. Either way, Gold was certainly not about to prosecute a pregnant teenager if he could avoid it, but with an already arranged and paid for adoption hanging in the balance, he couldn't say how long that could be prevented.
Belle listened to his tale in calm silence, and Gold was thankful that, judging by the way that she continued to stroke his hair as he spoke, his actions hadn't angered her. Still, he couldn't help but be apprehensive, cautiously gazing up at her to gauge her reaction.
"So from what I understand, you essentially sold a baby..." Gold winced. "...to make sure that the child got its best chance at happiness, am I right?"
"Y-yes, dear; that's it exactly."
"But she changed her mind about giving up her child..."
"Unfortunately that appears to be the case. If she decides to go along with the agreement after all our problems are solved, but if she persists in trying to keep her child..."
"...you'll have to take it away from her." Belle sounded so sad at that that he felt his heart break.
"...I dearly hope it doesn't come to that. But contracts are contracts, and-"
"I know, love." Belle sighed. "It still doesn't seem right to me. If she wants to keep her child, she should have every right to. You know, when Snow had Emma, people said she was too young to be a mother too, but she loves Emma with all her heart."
"If that's what she wanted, she shouldn't have signed that contract." Gold countered. "Besides... Just because someone may want to have a child, doesn't always mean they should. Not every mother can be Snow White, love."
Belle remained silent at his words, and he couldn't find the courage to look her in the eye. Her hand had stilled from her earlier ministrations, though she'd yet to push him off her lap.
"...you must think I'm horrid." He said quietly.
"No. I think you make wrong choices sometimes, and drawing up that contract was definitely one of them. But I also have faith that you'll make the right decision when the time comes."
Both of them were quiet for a long moment, Gold trying to understand how she could possibly see so much good in him, and internally panicking at the thought of proving her wrong.
"You know I don't even begin to deserve you, right?"
"I know that you think that." Belle smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, just shy of his bandaged wound. "I also happen to think otherwise."
--------------
The next day the pawn shop opened as usual, with no sign of the previous evening's break-in save for the plywood board standing in for a window pane in the front door. All was still and quiet and relatively empty in the shop until roughly lunchtime, when the bell jingled in time to footsteps on the wooden floor.
"Hey. It was a slow day at the library, so I closed for lunch and thought I'd get us burgers." Belle strode into the place all smiles and warmth despite the persistent Maine chill, walking up to the counter to greet him with a kiss. "How's your head?"
"Not so well, actually; I think it might need some closer attention, just here..." Gold flirted, sweeping his hair back from his quickly healing cut.
"Poor baby. Let's see what I can do." Belle placed a gentle kiss on the spot, then pulled away slightly to cup her lover's face in her hands. "How's that?"
"Mmm, much better." He replied softly. Then the shop's bell chimed again and he tensed, pulling quickly away from Belle's embrace.
Standing in the doorway with much the same trembling stance as the night before was Ashley, gripping a piece of paper tightly in her hands. Silently she approached the counter, and Gold tried not to smile too widely as Belle shifted slightly to stand protectively in front of him.
"Please, I don't want any trouble." Ashley said quietly. "I just wanted to talk."
"Well we've certainly much to discuss, haven't we, dearie?"
"I turned myself in." She started abruptly. "At the sheriff's station- they said you didn't press charges. Why?"
"I see no point in punishing an innocent girl who simply made a poor decision in an obvious state of distress. If that's not the case, I'd be happy to act otherwise-"
"No- that's just- thank you, for not having me arrested." She murmured. "I'm- I'm sorry for attacking you, I really am-"
"No real harm done. At any rate, I'm sure there's no end to the people in this town that'd leap at the chance to do what you did. I'll hardly blame you for being the first to act."
"That's not all- there's something I need to discuss with you. About my baby-"
"About your contract, you mean?"
"Yes, about that. Please, you can't just take my baby-"
"On the contrary, Miss Boyd, your contract states that, yes, I can. I'm afraid there's no way around that."
"Rumple-" Belle began, but Gold raised a hand immediately and she paused.
"I'm not finished." He grinned. "In fact, due to the parameters of that very important piece of paper, I have no more choice in the matter than you do. The contract is airtight; I made sure of that myself. This contract, that you willingly signed-"
"But I didn't!" Ashley interrupted. Gold paused in his tracks, looking intently at the girl as if expecting something. "I didn't sign it willingly. My stepmother forced me to; she said- she said she'd kick me out if I didn't sign the baby away. I've nowhere else to go; I had no choice but to sign it! When I realized what I'd done, I couldn't- I couldn't go through with it! I couldn't lose my baby..." She trailed off, clutching her stomach protectively. There was silence for a long whole before Gold spoke at last.
"Well then, that changes things quite a bit. You see, there are very few things that render one of my contracts invalid, and one of them happens to be coercion. You see, I happen to place a high value on free will, dearie, and so I'm afraid this rather nullifies our agreement. I'm sure your stepmother will be rather disappointed."
"Then you'll- you'll tear up the contract?" She wavered, as if unsure if Gold was joking. Then he pulled the paper- the copy of the deal Ashley had stolen the night before- gently from her grasp and promptly shredded it. Ashley stared at him in shock.
"You'll find I've little use for invalid contracts. Of course, the money your stepmother paid me to arrange all this will be forfeit; I simply can't abide people wasting my time."
"But then, my stepmother- she'll never let me stay now-"
"Well, it just so happens that I have a rather inexpensive apartment that I'm in need of a tenant for. And I've said, your stepmother already paid me upfront, enough to cover oh, six months rent at least-"
"Oh, thank you Mr. Gold! Thank you so much!" Without any warning, Ashley shot past Belle and wrapped the stunned man in a hug, only to pull away sharply when she realized just what she'd done. "Oh, I'm- I'm so sorry; I didn't mean-"
"That's- that's quite alright Miss Boyd." He told her, straightening his suit. "At any rate, I can have your rental agreement drawn up by tomorrow, if you'd like to stop by around the same time?"
"Oh, of course! That's completely fine; I'll be back tomorrow then." She turned and practically fled out the door, leaving only stunned silence in her wake.
"Oh, Rumple..." Belle began lovingly, coming to wrap her arms around him from behind.
"I meant what I said, dear. I don't make a habit of making deals with... unwilling participants."
"You're a good man, Rumplestiltskin." She snuggled closer, blurring her nose into the fabric of his suit.
"And you're too good for an old monster."
"Not a monster." Belle sighed happily. "How long do I have to keep telling you that before you'll believe me?"
"I may never quite believe it... Would you keep telling me forever?"
Just some bittersweet Christmas-themed HappyRenFaire!AU.
Within that patch of light the shadow of Mr. Gold paced in silent mimicry of the man himself, restlessly passing back and forth in the living room. Milah was gone again, had been for days. She'd promised she'd be home for Christmas, but to her that could mean stumbling in with half the day gone, acting as if she'd been there all along. He'd already had to send Bae to bed hours ago, trying to forget the disappointment he saw in his boy's eyes.
Gold paused in his pacing to lay his forehead against the cold windowpane. All he'd wanted was for Baelfire to have both his parents with him on Christmas. To give him a normal, happy holiday with the both of them, all animosity forgotten for the sake of celebration. That was the least his son deserved, and he'd failed to give him even that.
He banged his head sharply against the glass in frustration, but all he gained was a headache and a smudge of fogged breath on the window. Some father he was. He could fill the house with presents, but he couldn't give his beloved boy the only thing that mattered. From the distance, the sound of carolers echoed through the night. He thought their cheeriness seemed to mock him.
Gold wondered if he should just give up and go to bed. Staying up and waiting for Milah surely wasn't doing his ankle any good, and if she wanted to find something to be mad at him for she'd no doubt manage to do so whether he was up to greet her or not. In any case, it was more than likely she'd simply forgotten her promise- if she hadn't forgotten the holiday altogether- and wouldn't show before mid-morning at the earliest,
He'd just turned away from the window, mind made up to just settle in for the night, when a knock came from the door. He stopped in his tracks; Milah never bothered knocking. But who else could possibly be calling on him at this hour; who else in this damnably tight-knit town didn't have somewhere to be on Christmas Eve?
Cautiously he walked to the door, quietly cursing the colored glass that made it impossible to see who stood beyond it. After a moment's hesitation, he opened the door.
He wasn't sure just who he expected to see there, but his student-turned-babysitter-turned-unlikely-friend certainly wasn't it. Belle was resplendent in her oversized coat and gleaming smile. Gold thought just then that the girl before him could have outshone any gaudy decoration or Christmas display in the neighborhood.
"Mr. Gold- um, I'm really sorry if I'm bothering you; I know it's late but I was just passing by and I couldn't help but see you pacing there and, well, I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas." She said this all very quickly, and finished with a shy smile so sweet he wanted to gather her close him on the spot. Yes, she was definitely the best Christmas surprise he'd had in a long time.
"It's- it's no trouble at all, dear." He stammered. "I was just..." He trailed off, unsure just what to say.
"...I noticed your wife's car was gone, too... I didn't want you to be alone on Christmas Eve. I know that's really forward, and I-"
"Don't you worry about that. She was supposed to..." Gold began, before a new thought occurred to him. "But why are you wandering the streets on Christmas Eve? Shouldn't you be off celebrating?"
"Well I was, and I was just walking home when I saw you..." Yet something in her eyes seemed too sad for celebrating, and Gold wondered just how much of what she spoke was the truth. He knew her father was hardly the festive type, and he felt a sudden pang for the girl who may have been as lonely as he was on the holiday.
"Well in any case, would you like to come in? I'm afraid I don't have much in the way of a Christmas feast, but I can put a pot of tea on."
"That would be lovely." She beamed, bustling past him into the warmth of the house. He followed her into the kitchen, quickly setting up an impromptu tea for two. As he poured the steaming liquid into their cups, he heard the distant singing from before growing louder just outside the house.
"Oh, carolers!" Belle jumped up excitedly. She grabbed his hand, ushering him hurriedly to the large window he'd just vacated. "Come on, let's listen." They stood huddled close together as the small crowd passed, voices raised in song ringing out clearly through the dark and the snow.
"...fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices, oh night divine, oh night, oh night divine..."
"It's so beautiful, isn't it?" Belle asked quietly, and he slowly became aware that her gentle grip on his wrist hadn't ceased, and that his other arm had somehow snaked itself around her waist. He knew this intimacy was far more than he was allowed, but for the moment he would ignore that fact, content to bask in the warmth of the moment, of her leant into his embrace.
"It certainly is, love." Gold replied, not taking his eyes from her face. "Absolutely breathtaking."
"Merry Christmas, Rumple." She nuzzled against him, and he fought the urge to stiffen at her use of the nickname she used only when they were completely alone, when they could forget if for a moment their roles and situations, where he could pretend that such moments were forever and not fleeting sparks doomed to die in darkness.
"Merry Christmas, Belle." Then from the town's center came the deep tolling of the clock tower bell chiming midnight and heralding the arrival of Christmas Day. Like that the spell of the moment was shattered, and she pulled away from his arms as if burned.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it'd gotten so late... I really should be getting home now."
"It's fine, dear, I can drive you if you'd like-"
"There's no need; I can walk the rest of the way just fine. Thank you for the offer, though." He followed her to the door like a lost dog, keeping his eyes on her as if she'd vanish in a moment. Just feet from the front door she stopped short, turning on her heel to face him and pulling him close.
"Forget something?" Gold asked curiously.
"Just this-" With a split-second grace he could hardly resist, Belle reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Mistletoe." She pointed upwards by way of explanation. Followed her gesture to see that yes, there was a sprig of the plant hanging from the entryway's light fixture, courtesy of Bae's Christmas decorating visions. He'd have to thank his boy when he awoke.
"Thank you for the tea, by the way."
"Think nothing of it, dear." Gold told her, fighting a blush from his face. "Thank you for the company."
Belle simply nodded in return before stepping out the door and into the night, face as red as his likely was, despite his efforts. He stared after her for a long moment until the chill from the doorway brought him back to his senses. He pushed the door shut and locked it back in silence, still not entirely sure that the events of that winter's night hadn't all been a dream.
Finally managing to compose himself somewhat and realizing that Baelifire would no doubt expect him up in a mere handful of hours to open presents, Gold made his delayed way up to his bedroom, humming a quiet carol under his breath.
More HappyRenFaire!AU/SadPawnShop!AU, definitely leaning more to the latter.
I'm sorry; I really shouldn't be posting this, but I'm just working through my issues with fic again, so.
Loosely inspired by this song.
The door creaked open to a dimly lit living room, the house's only other occupants for the night clearly already asleep. Bae was no doubt tucked into bed long ago; Gold only hoped his boy hadn't tried to wait up too late for him. As for his babysitter, Belle was passed out asleep on the large plush couch along the far wall, having fallen asleep reading. Gold smiled as he walked over quietly as he could with his cane and retrieved the nearly fallen book from her slack grasp. She must've tried hard to stay up to greet him, tired as she obviously had been- she barely stirred, only whimpering a bit as she curled up closer in her blanket. He didn't have the heart to wake her, though the guest bedroom would be far more comfortable than the couch. This was hardly the first time she'd accidentally spent the night at her employer's, and he distantly wondered if her father ever questioned it. He felt a sudden burst of derision for the man who obviously didn't care much for his daughter to let her spend her odd nights in the house of the most infamous man in Storybrooke.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Gold flicked off the last downstairs lamp and began the long trek upstairs to his bedroom, internally cursing his ankle and infernally clattering cane the whole way. He counted himself lucky that Belle was a heavy sleeper once she'd dozed off; she shouldn't have to suffer for his own late nights.
As he made it to his bedroom, he tried valiantly to keep the previous hours thoughts from his mind as he dressed for bed. Milah, gone on one of her business trips again, had failed to call him for several days, and he'd naturally become worried. After several missed- or more than likely ignored- calls he'd finally managed to contact his wife, only to have her berate him for two hours on his "desperate need to control her life". In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have pointed out that he could hardly control what he barely had contact with. It was, as always, his mentioning Bae that sparked her ultimate outrage.
Gold settled down on the bed, half undressed but too consumed by tiredness and pain to continue without a break. Regardless of their near constant fights, he wished Milah would just come home. Bae missed his mother, and though the boy, mature beyond his years, would never say so, Gold could tell that he wondered why his mother seemed so determined to stay away from him. Gold hadn't the heart to tell him the reason, though he knew it well. He'd realized Milah no longer loved him years ago, if indeed she ever truly had. He'd hoped for some reason that she could put this aside, as he did, for their son, but unfortunately this hadn't been the case. The teenager currently curled up on his couch was more of a mother to Bae than Milah was.
That had been another source of argument. Milah was of course convinced that he was sleeping with Belle, though she thankfully had said nothing to the girl in question. Never mind that Milah had her own string of affairs, that these "business trips" were anything but, a fact that Gold was painfully aware of. Some horrid part of him wished that he could prove her right.
The pain in his ankle subsiding for a moment, he moved to finish pulling on his nightclothes. He studiously ignored his reflection in the full length mirror by the dresser. No matter what that deep buried piece of him desired, he'd not make any advances toward Belle, not if Milah never returned. He'd not do that to the poor girl. No, he was painfully aware, thanks to Milah's artfully pointing it out, that he was hardly anything worth having: not much to look at and less than useless besides. His only redeeming quality was his wealth, and it was obvious that Belle cared little for that, never accepting his constantly offered pay raises beyond what was necessary to pay her father's rent and her groceries.
There was nothing about him that deserved Belle. He wished so fervently that he did, if only for Bae's sake. She treated his son like her own, and the boy loved her like a mother. But still he couldn't bring himself to chain her to himself- and old crippled coward as he was- not even for Bae's sake. She was a creature of freedom and light, born to soar so very far away from their dismal little town. He was not about to cage her, not if she came with the sweetest of smiles and the gentlest of touches.
He laid down in the dark and chilled sheets, desperately trying to calm his racing thoughts. As he finally drifted off into a dead sleep, he allowed himself the fantasies that he'd defiantly stamp down in wakefulness. In his dreams he was not alone in the cold bed, but could fall asleep curled around her warm, soft frame, and bury his face in her long curls. But such a dream would be the happiest of endings, and far more than an old monster like him could ever deserve.
So... I did it again. Everything I touch turns to angst I'm so sorry
Blame it on this song ok
More HappyRenFaire!AU well more like sad pawn shop au but whatever
She wondered absently when she'd begun this habit of routinely appearing in Gold's shop with baked goods- somewhere around the time she'd volunteered at the high school bake sale and subsequently discovered her misanthropic teacher's sweet tooth. Belle had started the whole affair as a kind of peace offering; she'd hardly believed that the man was as monstrous as the rest of the town would have her believe; he just needed someone to reach out to him. And after all, her lemon bars had done wonders with the school's draconian librarian.
Sure enough, once Gold had determined that no, she was not out to poison him, her offerings were accepted with graciousness and gratitude. She would often bring a few extra treats with her when she came to watch Baelfire, and this had progressed over the years to almost daily afternoon teas at Gold's shop. She hoped her friend wouldn't be too busy today, though the sleepy town rarely saw anything resembling a bustle. Besides, Belle thought, Gold had been known to kick would-be customers out of the shop if they dared to interrupt one of their meetings. She was torn between being flattered at this and apologetic that her presence seemed to give him an excuse to be rude. Yet whenever she remanded him for it, he would only shrug and say something about how no petty business they could give him could possibly be worth stalling one of their conversations.
The shop was thankfully empty today, with only Gold's lonely black Cadillac parked around the corner. The bell over the door chimed brightly as she entered, and Gold looked up at the sound, his usual blankly distasteful expression resolving into a cheery grin when he recognized her. Before he could greet her properly, however, a fluffy brown head appeared from the back room.
"Belle! I knew you'd come!" Baelfire hurried around the counter to hug her excitedly, careful not to knock the cookies from her grasp. "Papa said you wouldn't come today, but I knew better!"
"No, Bae, I merely suggested that Belle might have something better to do on her weekend off, and that you shouldn't be disappointed if she couldn't make it." Gold clarified. "Of course, I'd still be rather disappointed."
"Well, it's a good thing I thought to show up." She smiled at both of them. "And you boys know I could think of nothing I'd like more than having tea with you."
"I'll get the things!" Bae announced, rushing back through the curtained doorway to retrieve the tea set, which Belle couldn't help but notice had been set for three.
"See, you knew I would come." She said, setting her tray down upon the counter and pulling up a chair.
"I was hopeful. But I couldn't blame you if you sought out other pastimes, dear."
"Hmph. After all these years you still can't believe I'd willingly take tea with the most interesting man and most adorable little boy in Storybrooke." Bae beamed at her words, but his father only chuckled.
"You're too kind to an old monster, dearie."
"You're not a monster." Belle told him, pouring herself a cup of fresh-smelling mint tea.
Gold smiled at her warmly enough that she blushed, though thankfully subtly enough that she could blame it on the tea. The sudden rusting of tinfoil distracted her companion, thankfully, as Bae helped himself to the cookies. Gold soon followed suit, and Belle had no doubt that they could easily finish off the tray between the two of them.
"At any rate, I'm glad you're here." Gold told her in between bites. "I happened to acquire a certain object yesterday that I think you'll be interested in. Bae, would you mind getting the red box from my desk?"
Bae nodded, mouth still full of cookie, and scurried off again. He returned momentarily with a shallow, aged crimson package which he handle to his father.
"Thank you, Bae. Now, I think you'll like this-" Gold began. "A man came in with this parcel he claimed to have received from his grandfather's estate; it's in rather bad shape, but I think I'll have little trouble restoring it."
He removed the cover of the box to reveal an ancient-looking leather bound book, its cover untitled but bedecked in embossed leafy swirls that would no doubt shine if restored. Gold carefully lifted the tome from its box, laying it open on the counter. Some of the gold-leafed pages were torn and water stained, and the spine creaked and cracked, loose pages shifting where the binding glue had come undone. In spite of this the book was beautiful, with elegantly lettered text and stunning full-page illustrations scattered throughout.
"It's a book of fairy tales..." Belle observed. "Oh, it's absolutely beautiful!"
"I knew you'd think so." Gold smirked. "I thought you could help me restore it, if you'd like. It'd make a fine display piece for the library, don't you think?"
"It's got all the stories you used to tell me, too." Bae chimed in. "Snow White and Red Riding Hood and everything."
"I'd love too!" She smiled brightly.
"Wonderful, of you'd like, we can start on Mon-” He was interrupted by the harsh ring of a phone from the back of the shop. His face fell instantly, and he excused himself to take the call. Belle watched him go, setting back with Bae to examine the book more closely. She didn't mean to overhear Gold's conversation, but as his volume and obvious agitation increased, she couldn't help but listen.
"No, Milah, I don't understand why you need to be away for another week. This was supposed to be a brief business trip, as you said, but this is the second time you've dragged it out like this. Bae's beginning to ask me if you're coming home, and I honestly don't know what to tell him; he needs his mother and... Don't you bring her into this! She's an innocent girl! Well, it's hardly her fault she's around more than you are..."
The argument continued in the next room, while Bae studiously became more and more interested in the old text, and Belle knew she should say something, but she felt frozen as a sudden revelation hit her. She thought, just for a moment, that Gold had a point, and this brought into her mind unbidden images of their gatherings but altered, where Bae would call her Mama and Gold would call her Love and kiss her, and then...
She clenched her teacup so tightly in her hands she worried it would break. What was she doing here? What right had she to come into this family's life and disturb it more than it already was? Gold had his wife and Bae his mother, and there was simply no right place for her in that, no matter how much she wished it were otherwise. Belle's heart was racing so fast she thought it would stop. She couldn't be certain how or when, but at some point she had fallen in love with Gold, her simple schoolgirl crush developing into so much more. Something that could never be, not without destroying this family. She couldn't do that to her boys- gods, when did she start thinking of them as that?
"Terribly sorry, love," Gold muttered as he returned, ruffled but trying to appear calm. Love. "Now, where were we?"
"Actually, um, I should probably be leaving." Belle stammered. "I've just remembered I have a big test on Monday that I really need to study for- I really shouldn't have come at all today; I'm sorry..."
"It's no trouble, dear." Gold smiled awkwardly as he did when he knew something was wrong but he couldn't say exactly what. "But perhaps I'll see you after school then? We can get started on the book-"
"I'm not sure that would be such a good idea, I mean- it's so old and probably valuable, and I wouldn't want to mess it up somehow. I should probably leave the restoration to you."
"A-alright, then; if you're sure..."
"Positive. Anyway, it was nice talking with you both- I'll be seeing you around, yeah?"
"Yes, of course." Gold replied. Belle smiled sadly and turned away, walking out of the shop without a backward glance. She wished she couldn't hear Bae ask his father if something had happened, nor Gold answer wistfully that he had no idea.
Belle fought back tears as she made her way back home, hours before she would have normally left the pawn shop. She shuddered, willing herself to remain calm and not break down in the street. This was the best thing for all of them, she thought. After all, she knew that anything she and Gold shared would always be just like the stories in that old book: fairy tales, and nothing more.
stormborns
yousharknotpass
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
areudirty
origamiaround