Summary: Dark Castle Fluff. Rumplestiltskin finds his maid very distracting -- only because of her antics though, not for any other reason.
Rating: G
A/N: This is just a little something I had in my notebook from earlier in the year. I thought I’d type it up to have something silly as an antidote to “Unlovely Thoughts” (the angsty Papafire fic I’ve been working on).
[AO3]
***
Rumplestiltskin only had a moment to register something lightly tickling his nose before he let out a series of sneezes.
There was a soft giggle from in front of him and he glared into the face of his irritating, beautiful, infuriating, beguiling -- but mostly irritating and infuriating -- maid.
She was standing in front of him with a large feather duster in her hands, looking very pleased with herself, a mischievous smile curving her, most definitely not at all alluring, lips.
“What are you laughing at Dearie?” He snapped at her. “You just made me lose my train of thought.”
Belle rolled her eyes -- eyes that were a clear and beautiful blue, that he definitely, definitely had not daydreamed about constantly since she arrived. “You’ve been sitting in that exact same position since breakfast. You probably lost your train of thought hours ago.”
“I did not,” he said, offended. “I’m the Dark One, Dearie. Unlike you mortals it’s much harder for me to lose my train of…” His mind went blank as he trailed off.
He’d shifted his gaze away from her distracting blue eyes while speaking. Not that they had been distracting him, of course, but just to be safe, he’d lowered them to look at look at the feather duster. What he hadn’t realized was what an excellent view the trip down would give him of her creamy décolletage and pert breasts.
When he finally got his senses together (a few seconds or years later), he raised his head to look at her shoulder, which ought to be far safer. He allowed himself a quick glance at her face as he did so. Had she realized what he’d been staring at? She didn’t look angry, which suggested not, but perhaps her cheeks hadn’t been so flushed before? He hoped he hadn’t embarrassed her, not because he cared whether she was embarrassed but good help was hard to find. He was certainly not contemplating getting down on his knees and begging for her to stay if she threatened to leave -- that would be far, far beneath his dignity.
Although maybe, just maybe, she was flushed because had seen him looking and had she enjoyed it? He dismissed that thought as soon as it formed, that sounded about as likely as him marrying the Blue Fairy.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, as I was saying…” He said, before realizing that he didn’t have the faintest clue what he’d been saying.
He tried to remember but was distracted by something brown and shiny edge of his vision; one of Belle’s perfect chestnut curls was catching the sunlight.
He heard another giggle from his maid and scowled at her, which seemed to have no effect on her whatsoever.
“Yes, I can see how well the Dark One can concentrate.”
He waved a hand at her, trying to exude his normal nonchalance. “I’m concentrating on solving a very complex magical problem in my head, you know. Very tricky thing, something you could never hope to understand, and I have mental energy to waste on whatever the trivial thing you wanted to discuss was.”
She glared at him and crossed her arms. The movement brought the feather duster back into view and he suddenly remembered what had started this whole conversation.
“Wait a second, you never told me why you put your feather duster under my nose. If you want to slay the beast you’ll need to do more than make me sneeze to death.” He finished with a trill.
Belle rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t an assassination attempt.”
“Then what the bloody hell was it?”
She shrugged and gave him a cheeky smile. “Oh well, you were just so still. I thought you were gathering dust so I dusted you.”
He stared at her. “You dusted me?”
“Yes.”
“And that was why you laughed?” He felt proud of himself for remembering what the start of the conversation had been.
“No… I laughed because I never imagined the Dark One to have such a cute little sneeze.”
He glared at her. Her eyes were sparkling with mirth and he wanted to spend the rest of his life drowning in them. But there were important things to be done, he reminded himself -- he was sure he’d been doing those before.
He let out a loud and dramatic sigh and waved a lazy hand at her. “Be gone with you woman. Go up to your library and read. It’s clearly far safer and far less bother to me than you doing your duties.”
Her lips quirked upwards and she gave an insolent little curtsy (he hadn’t know before Belle that a curtsy could be insolent). “As you wish, Rumplestiltskin.”
He had a strong suspicion that she was laughing at him.
He watched her go -- most certainly not distracted by the bouncing of her curls or the sway of her rear. When the doors closed behind her it felt like she had taken the light from the room with her.
He snorted to himself at the stupid romantic sentiment. Most unlike him at all.
He glanced down at his spinning wheel, readying himself to begin spinning and noticed a small white feather on his trouser leg. He picked it up and stared at it. It must have fallen off her feather duster.
He twirled it between his fingers and tried very hard not to think about Belle. The annoying woman’s antics -- definitely not her looks -- had just been a distraction. It was for the best that he’d sent her up to her library where she couldn’t get in his way. He was certainly not thinking of magicking himself up there (maybe using the excuse of research?) and spending the rest of the evening sitting opposite her and pretending to read. That would be a ridiculous waste of time and very much beneath the Dark One.
No. He had to get back to the very important -- non-Belle -- thing he had been thinking about. He was sure such a thing existed, if only he could remember what it was…
A bit of Dark Castle fluff for the Anon who send me a prompt.
-x-x-x-
Belle grit her teeth together and huffed out a frustrated breath through her nose. If the screaming would stop she’d be able to think of a way out of her current predicament. Of course, that would be easier if she knew what the heck she was dealing with. All she’d done was open a jar from the pantry. It had taken quite a tug to get the lid off, but she’d been distracted by re-reading the recipe she was following, so she’d not paid that much attention.
“Should have know better Belle. Should have taken the time to wonder why the stupid lid wouldn’t come off.”
Berating herself was pointless, but it was hard to think with the shrill wails were echoing around the kitchen. The jar was labelled as sage, the dried herbs smelt of sage, so why had it started screaming at her? She had no idea, but she had to get this sorted out before Rumplestiltskin returned home.
“What in all the realms of hell have you done, woman?”
Belle closed her eyes. The old stories said that to summon the Dark One his name had to be called three times. The stories were wrong. The Dark One turned up when he could be the smuggest. She was going to be hearing about this for months. She pulled a wide smile on to her face, turned around and loudly said; “Why Rumple. You’re home early. How was your deal?”
He opened his mouth and then snapped it closed again. Belle’s smile became a bit more natural. She’d thrown him by greeting him as she normally did. He wagged a finger at her as he stalked across the kitchen toward her.
“None of that. What … … … with? Hum? … … … around in my tower? Read a book … … have? Or played with my … …? Well, out with it.”
She was only able to catch every third word or so because of the undulating screaming. She glared at him until his lips stopped moving and then batted his finger out of her face.
“I opened this jar from the pantry.” She shouted as loudly as she could and still wasn’t sure if he had heard her. She shoved the empty jar into his hands hoping that it would explain what was going on because neither her throat nor her ears could take a conversation at this volume for long.
Rumple turned it over and read the label. His throat worked as he swallowed, and he mumbled something she didn’t catch over the screaming.
“What was that Rumple?”
She’d had to raise her voice again because the screaming had increased again. She saw his lips move but couldn’t make out what he was saying. His shoulders sagged at her confused look and he turned away to place the jar on the table. He hurried back to her and carefully nudged her until she stepped back. The pitch of the screaming was setting her teeth on edge now. Rumple moved in front of her and twirled his hand. A rushing wind howled through the kitchen rattling the pots and pans hanging from their racks. Belle peered over Rumple’s shoulder and saw the jar rock and spin, before the lid snapped on.
Silence. Blissful silence broken only by Belle’s relieved sigh.
“So, what was that?”
Rumple winced and jumped away from her. Belle covered her mouth with her hand, she’d forgotten they didn’t need to shout anymore. He rubbed at his ear and shrugged; “That was the screams of a banshee.”
“And what was it doing in my pantry?”
He stopped rubbing his ear and gave her an affronted look; “Whose pantry? Who is master of this castle?”
Belle just folded her arms and raised her eyebrows at him. After she’d accidently served him a cake filled with mashed toads instead of gooseberry jam he had agreed to keep his potion ingredients out of her kitchen. He clearly remembered the conversation as he shrugged again.
“I may have accidently left it there when I got a snack after my deal the other week.”
If he’d raided the kitchen for a midnight snack that would explain why the pickle jars were emptier than she remembered.
“Anything else you might have forgotten?”
Rumple rubbed his fingers together for a moment and then darted for the pantry. Belle shook her head fondly and turned back to her recipe book. She jumped at the sound of crashing and cursing, before deciding that the Dark One could deal with this little mess on his own.
I desperately need your fluffy writing to remedy a bad day. So, 17 and 27 please for Rumbelle during their Dark Castle days
17: “Open your present”
27: “Are you trying to find your present?”
Okay this has the potential to be cute, so let’s see how we do.
Following on from this ficlet
AO3 link
Rumplestiltskin recovered from his illness after a few days. Belle knew that he was on the mend when he stopped lying quietly in bed as she read to him, and started complaining again. Either the sheets were too heavy, or the fire was too hot, or she hadn’t made his tea the way he liked it. She thought he was just complaining for the sake of it, though. Or perhaps he felt that there was a persona he had to maintain around her: the legendary beast of the Dark Castle. She didn’t care. She thought she knew what he was really like, deep inside, beneath all the elaborate clothes and the dramatic gestures. Careful, and gentle: even kind. And lonely.
The snows had deepened as Yuletide drew near, and Rumple watched her with curiosity as she stomped outside in the drifts, cutting down evergreen boughs, holly and ivy to hang in the halls. Wreaths of mistletoe were curled on the doors, and the sharp scent of pine sap filtered through the castle. He muttered about vermin, and the mess, but she had simply shot him one of her looks and carried on. She had mused aloud one day about bringing in a tree to decorate, but had regretfully decided that it was a little too much for her to either cut down or drag through the deep snow. He had gone out that night and cut one for her, setting it up in the library with a collection of sparkling trinkets to hang on it. Just to shut her up, of course.
Belle had squealed with delight when she saw the tree, and hugged him impulsively, making him freeze in place, his eyes wide. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to having her around, this strange girl who smiled at him with genuine warmth in her eyes, who was free with her touches and generous with her time. He didn’t want her to go, though. Even though a tiny part of him, perhaps the only good part of him that remained, told him that he couldn’t keep her.
Midwinter’s Eve was upon them, and Belle had finished decorating the tree, red and gold ornaments hung from its sweeping branches. She had even made a spiced wine, warmed on the fire with honey and apples, and she ladled a glass out for him, adding a measure of brandy from his liquor store. He nodded his thanks, feeling somewhat tongue-tied in her presence, so he walked across the library floor, pretending an interest in the sparkling tree that was taking up most of the space.
“It’s probably riddled with vermin,” he said.
“You say that about everything I bring home.”
Home. She calls it home. I wish it were. I wish I could give her a home.
“It’s too big for this room,” he snapped, trying to banish his own traitorous thoughts, and Belle turned to him with a wry look.
“You put it in here,” she pointed out.
“Yes, well, clearly my brain was addled,” he said grumpily. “I should have put it in the Great Hall.”
“But you didn’t,” she said, sounding self-satisfied. “Because the Great Hall is where everyone comes to make a deal with you, and this?” She waved a hand around the library. “This is our place, isn’t it? Private, and cosy. Intimate.”
“It serves its purpose, I suppose,” he muttered, and she rolled her eyes.
He took a sip of his wine, making a noise of pleasure at the taste, and she grinned as though he had given her a treat. His ancient heart started to thump alarmingly, and so he tore his eyes from her, walking forward to peer under the tree, where a number of packages sat, wrapped in squares of silk and tied with ribbon.
“Are you trying to find your present?” asked Belle, sounding amused, and he straightened up, wide-eyed with astonishment.
“You - you got me a present?”
“Well, it is tradition,” she said. “I got you several. You can open one tonight, if you like. Only one, mind.” She held up a finger in admonishment, and his mouth twitched.
“Very well.”
He reached for the nearest package, round and small enough to fit in his hand. Pulling open the bow of red silk, he teased the thin gold chiffon open with his fingers to reveal a woven basket filled with tiny chocolates that gave off the scent of brandy.
“I made you truffles,” said Belle, sounding a little anxious. “I - I had to use some of your brandy, and cream from the kitchens, and that chocolate you brought back with you, but - but I think they’re good.”
He popped one into his mouth, and it melted on his tongue, sweetness and richness and the heat from the brandy. A vision came to him, of her bent over the kitchen tables, whipping cream until it was thick enough to mix into melted chocolate, and he smiled.
“That’s delicious, Belle.”
He licked his fingers, and swirled them in a circle. A plume of red mist appeared, and when it cleared there was a parcel lying there, a flat, uneven shape swathed in blue silk and tied with yellow silk ribbon. Belle took it, a curious expression on her face, and looked it over.
“Go on,” he almost whispered. “Open your present.”
Her eyes flicked to his, and then she pulled open the ribbon, unwrapping the silk from the ornate mirror that lay within. She blinked.
“Oh,” she said. “Well, it’s beautiful, Rumple…”
“No, no, you don’t understand,” he said. “That is a magic mirror. It can show you whatever you want to see. Just speak your wish into the mirror, and the image will appear.”
“Oh!” breathed Belle, clutching it to her chest before holding it out to look into it again. “So, I could see my father, and my people again?”
“Whatever you desire,” he said, trying not to grin like an idiot. She threw herself on him, laughing delightedly.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Thank you, Rumple!”
“Well, you’re - uh - very welcome,” he said, patting her back awkwardly, and wishing she didn’t smell so bloody good. Or feel so good. Leather pants were all too tight, it seemed.
Belle pulled back, cheeks flushed and eyes shining, and gave him a grin that he could only describe as mischievous.
“Whatever I desire, hmm?” she asked, biting her lip. “You should be careful next time you want to take a bath.”
Send me a prompt from this list and a ship and I’ll write you a ficlet
Belle and Rumplestilskin had been enjoying a quiet evening together in the great hall of the Dark Castle. They had just finished taking their evening meal together and Belle was sitting by the fire to read while Rumple was sitting by his wheel to spin. This sort of peaceful companionship was something Belle would not have thought of in her wildest dreams when she first arrived at the castle. But after a few months of living here and sharing her life with enigmatic but secretly kind master it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Rumplestilskin thought of engaging his maid in a conversation about the new book she had picked out to read tonight when he sensed a desperate soul calling for him. Seeing as it was late at night and in the dead of winter, this was probably a call he didn’t want to pass up he could probably make out a very beneficial deal with whoever this was.
He rose and Belle looked up from her book with a puzzled expression. Without her having to ask Rumple explained why he was breaking their routine. “I have to go on a deal, my dear. Don’t wait up for me I shouldn’t be long”
Just as he was about to magic himself away from the castle Belle got up as well. “You can’t leave just yet!” Rumplestilskin waited for her as she went out into the foyer, finding himself quite unwilling to disobey the girl.
She returned with his thick cloak and she handed it to him. “I won’t have you freezing on my watch, what kind of maid would I be if I let the Dark One go out dealing without being properly clothed?”
“Not a very good one, I suppose you’re trying to make up for all that time you spend reading instead of cleaning, hmm?”
She chuckled and before she realized what she was doing, got up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and was going to tell him to hurry back but they both froze, their faces turning bright red.
“I- I didn’t intend to kiss you” Belle sputtered, running back into the kitchens as Rumple tried push the memory of her soft lips on his face away so he could concentrate on this deal.
Priscilla the cat had almost the full run of the Dark Castle, Rumple had put anti-cat warding on his laboratory so she didn’t get into anything dangerous and then applied the same to the hothouse after she’d tried to use the soil there as a litter box, (Rumple had quite the temper tantrum after that incident and had threated the ‘flea-bag’ with snailhood if she did it again).
Most of the time she was a well behaved cat that seemed to understand the rules of the castle. She would haughtily ignore those who came to beg the Dark One for help, had hissed and clawed at Prince Charming when he tried to pet her, and shed all over Jefferson when he was annoying Rumple with his exuberant jesting.
The one thing Belle couldn’t get her to avoid was the spools of spun gold that filled the basket by Rumple’s wheel. Many mornings she would come downstairs to find glimmering threads tangled around the legs of the dining room table and trailing across the floor. She did her best to tidy them away before Rumple appeared for breakfast, but once or twice he’d leaped over them on the way to his seat or spinning wheel.
The strange thing was that Rumple never said anything about it, never huffed, or told her to keep the moggy under better control. In fact she was certain she’d seen him smile fondly at the mess as he stroked Priscilla’s ears. There was defiantly something fishy going on here.
At the end of the day Belle bid Rumple good night and petted Priscilla who was curled in her basket by Rumple’s wheel. The cat purred at her and snuggled down into the plump pillow, looking as if she was settled in for the night. Belle walked out of the room and made for the stairs, but slipped her shoes off and doubled back to the door. Through the crack she saw Rumple spinning and Priscilla asleep just as she had left them, maybe she was wrong about this.
Priscilla suddenly stretched, arching her back before she jumped lightly down to curl around the basket of finished thread.
“Oh you want to play already?”
Belle was surprised at the indulgent tone in Rumple’s voice, and even more so as she watched him lift a spool and toss it along the floor for Priscilla to chase. The cat caught it and batted it back to him. The Dark One gave a quiet titter and kicked the spool again.
Belle had to smother her own giggles as the two of them played, the thread was getting tangled around the table legs again and would take a while to tidy in the morning, but she didn’t care, she’d never seen Rumple look so relaxed and carefree. She was so caught up in watching their game that she didn’t notice how close to her hiding place Priscilla had come. The cat’s nose twitched as she sniffed the air and them with a triumphant mewl she sent the spool rolling out of the door with a swipe of her paw.
“What are you doing you daft cat, I’m over here.”
Priscilla sat down and mewed at Rumple.
“Oh so I have to go fetch it do I? Well I suppose it is my turn.”
Rumple scampered across the floor on all fours and skidded to a halt at Belle’s feet.
“Ah. Oh. Erm, hello belle, thought you’d gone to bed?”
He stood up and dusted himself off, trying to look as if he’d not just been playing with a cat. Priscilla gave a snort and began to wind herself and the thread around their ankles, not that either of them noticed as they were both awkwardly heming and haring while trying to find something to say. The cat gave the thread a tug and the staggered into each other, keeping their balance but not touching each other. Priscilla rolled her eyes and mewled at them.
“I think she’d annoyed we were ignoring her.”
Rumple blinked at Belle and a shy smile started on his face, “Would you like to play with us?”
Belle nodded and tried to take a step away from Rumple, she almost fell over the tangled gold, but he grabbed her hand and held her upright.
“I think we need to get untangled first.”
Rumple dragged his eyes away from her hand, her little hand that had folded around his as if it liked being in his grip.
“Yes untangled,” The gold unwound from their ankles, “And then chase the cat!”
Priscilla took off into the great hall pursued by a giggling Belle and Rumple, who were still holding hands.
Rumple was used to the strange noises the Dark Castle made; it was an old, creaky building long before he moved in. Of course in recent months the castle had acquired some new sounds; off key singing, gentle snoring and the occasional lady like cry of annoyance, (that one was usually accompanied by the smell of burning). Rumple had become accustom to all the little noises that indicated of Belle’s presence in his home, but his little maid could not be responsible for his basket of straw mewling. He frowned at the basket and gave it a prod with his finger.
“Ouch!”
Straw could have points but nothing so sharp it would leave the angry red scratches on the back of his hand. He poked among the steams more cautiously and gave a triumphant shout when he caught the culprit by the scruff of the neck.
“Oh that’s where you got to Priscilla.”
Rumple looked at between the ball of ginger fur dangling meekly from his grip and Belle.
“Priscilla? You named this vicious, flea-bag Priscilla?”
Belle tutted at him a scooped the moggy from his hand; “You’re not vicious are you Priscilla?”
Rumple made a sound of outrage and held his injured hand up in front of Belle’s face. She batted it away and cooed over the damn cat.
“Did Rumple startle you? Where had you hidden yourself, hey?”
“It was in my straw!”
“Was it warm there? Do we need to get you a blanket?”
Rumple growled under his breath; “You will do such thing, dearie. You will get rid of that damn little hell beast at once!”
Belle finally gave him her full attention. He shrank back a little under her the force of her glare.
“I will not,” She shoved the cat into his arms, “If you want to be a big, mean sorcerer and throw a poor defenceless cat out into a howling storm you can do it yourself!”
She stomped out of the great hall leaving him with his mouth hanging open and the cat butting its head into his chest demanding fuss. Absently he stroked Priscilla’s ears and wandered over to the window. A gentle rain pattered against the window pane.
“No exactly a howling storm is it?”
Priscilla meowed. Rumple sighed.
“You know if I did throw you out it’d be nothing but burnt meals and stewed tea for a week or more?”
There really was nothing for it the cat would have to stay.
“But I can’t have you in my straw. I don’t like spinning car fur.”
Priscilla watched with interest as Rumple waved his hand and magicked up a basket to sit by his spinning wheel. There was a plush pillow in the bottom, which after a bit of encouragement from Rumple the cat settled itself on and fell asleep. He stroked its ears once more before resuming his spinning.
“I suppose you are sort of cute, but honestly who ever heard of a dark sorcerer with a ginger tabby-cat?”
It wasn’t as if anyone would dare laugh at him, and the way that Belle smiled and placed a warm hand on his shoulder when she saw the sleeping cat made it all worth it.
Rumple was twitchier than normal. Belle watched his hands flutter like nervous birds as he paced up and down the great hall. He suddenly turned on his heel and waved a finger in her direction.
“What do you know about Amazons?”
Belle took a sip of tea as she gathered her thoughts.
“A race of warrior women, their society is matriarchal and they are rumoured to be descendant from a demi god.”
Rumple nodded, “Not bad, you’ve got the general overview.”
He threw himself into his chair, finally still for the first time in quarter of an hour; well almost still, his fingers were still dancing.
“Would you like to visit them?”
“The Amazons? Yes that would be wonderful. What do you need me for?”
He chuckled at her perceptiveness.
“What makes you think I need you for anything, dearie? Maybe I think you need some sunshine, stop you looking so pale and wan.”
Belle snorted at him.
“If you thought that you’d simply set me to work in the garden more. You never offer a trip out unless there is a purpose to my presence. So, why do you need me to accompany you to see the Amazons?”
Rumple squirmed in his seat, Belle had never see him look so uncomfortable.
“Last time I dealt with the Amazons I was lucky to get out of there without a wife. Apparently they believe me to be good husband material.”
The last was said in a tone of loathing, Belle wasn’t sure if the emotion was at the idea of marriage as a whole, or at the idea of that he would make a good husband.
“What would I need to do to show them that you are off limits?” Rumple cocked his eyebrow at her, “I assume that you want to take me so I can pretend to be your wife, yes?”
He nodded slowly as if expecting her to rage at him for making the suggestion. She sat calmly waiting for him to explain his plan.
“Alright then, it’s very simple really, I will wear a ring marking me as y…yours, and you will introduce me as your h…husband.”
Belle nodded that didn’t sound too difficult.
“What about touching, kissing and the like?”
Rumple bounced to his feet and began pacing again.
“There wouldn’t be any need for touching, or the like, just a declaration that we are wed during the introductions.”
He watched her carefully and then shook his head and flapped his hands around.
“Why are you so content with this plan? I’m asking you to pretend to be my wife and you’ve barely batted an eyelid.”
Belle stood up and patted his arm, he didn’t flinch from her touch anymore.
“Rumple, the whole Enchanted Forest already thinks I am your lover, pretending to be your wife will be easy.”
She smiled as his mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Oh well, not that’s sorted out, I best get started on dinner.”
