Lord Gold
Author: WiltedRose Group G: kiss on the nose; town meeting; dead tree
A/N A sequel to Lady Rose
⭐️⭐️
Rumplestiltskin felt the connection snap into place.
“I’ve got you now.” The Dark One smirked as his magic coiled around the witch.
The hearth spat and crackled at his back, stretching his shadow across the bed where his target materialized in a cloud of maroon smoke.
His eyes darted to her chest—not to leer at her like the vultures in Avlonea’s court, but to track the rise and fall of each breath she took. She was alive. He hadn’t been too late.
Lady Rose was finally within his grasp—safe behind the Dark Castle’s wards.
He slid down in his chair, exhausted and relieved.
Holding back a teleportation spell as he Dream Walked into her mind, then using the connection to set her magical signature as the target of the suspended spell, had drained even the Dark One’s magic.
Belle woke with a gasp before he could recover. He shifted instantly, crossing his legs and clasping his hands in his lap as if he’d been idly waiting for her to join him.
Her cerulean gaze met his as the gold faded from his eyes.
“Welcome back, dearie,” he tittered.
“Where am I?” She groaned.
“You, my dear, are in the Dark Castle.” He paused for dramatic effect. “My rather large estate. That little hunting party won’t find you here, princess. We’re miles from the nearest town, and no one enters my lands without my knowledge.” He pointed to the bed and chuckled. “It’s a wee bit better than sleeping under a dead tree, don’t you think?”
“Thank you. You saved my life.” Her lip trembled with unshed tears.
His chest fluttered at her sincerity, but he dismissed it with a flick of his wrist. “I couldn’t let my most promising student waste away in a cell. Talent is so hard to find these days. Besides, there’s still the matter of my—”
“Price,” she interrupted. “It seems magic has come to collect mine. My wanted posters will be in every town across the Alliance by now.” A tear slid down her cheek. “What hurt most was seeing the hatred in my Papa’s eyes.”
“You get used to it,” he replied honestly, his tone softening.
She wiped away her tears and sorrow. In their place, a resolve as immovable as a mountain grew. “Name your price.”
“You will stay here, with me, forever.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“I accept.”
🥀
“Rumplestiltskin!” Belle shouted as he walked through the front door, her mop splashing as she set it back in the bucket. “When I agreed to stay with you, I expected more spells and potions, not mopping floors.”
His new apprentice had finally snapped. For two weeks since her arrival, he had treated her like a maid, confining her indoors and instructing her to clean the castle from top to bottom. She lasted longer than he had expected.
He was impressed.
“Not as glamorous as you’re used to, princess?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t mind the work, but you were the one who said it would be a waste for a ‘promising student’ to rot in a cell. So, when are you going to teach me about the artifacts you have me dusting?”
He wagged a finger in front of her face. “When. I. Say so.”
She swatted his hand. “Why am I really doing this? Do I need to attune to the castle’s magic or something?”
He smiled and answered in his highest-pitched voice, “The place was filthy.”
Belle slapped his arm. “Rumple! That’s not funny!”
He laughed and dodged out of her range. “Lesson two hundred and twelve, never trust a sorcerer.”
She huffed, but he could see her fighting back a smile. “I should have known you’d pull something like this.” She poked her finger against his chest. “Magic lessons, Rumple, tomorrow.”
He bowed. “As my lady wishes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Where were you today? I haven’t seen you since breakfast. I was starting to worry that one of your deals had gone wrong.”
“No deal, unfortunately, but an extremely tedious town meeting,” he replied, turning to hang his jackalope-hide cloak on the coat rack.
“What?” Belle sputtered.
He raised an eyebrow. “A town meeting? Dull gatherings that drag on far longer than they should because of posturing. They’re where officials discuss taxes, crop yields, changes to laws, and such. You were a princess, weren’t you?”
“I know what a town meeting is, but why were you at one? You said we were alone here!”
“Nah-ah, I said we were miles from town, not that there were none.”
Belle scrunched her nose as she always did when she didn’t like something, but she couldn’t find an argument against it. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“The village is on my land. It’s the only settlement. Why wouldn’t I be there?”
“You actually own this place?” she asked, her eyes widening.
In a puff of smoke, a scroll unfurled in his hands. Belle’s mouth opened in shock as she grabbed the deed.
“This is really old.”
“It has been three hundred years since I obtained it.”
She looked up with a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “How did—”
“Ah-ah-ah!” He waved his hands, and the parchment disappeared. “Less talking and more cleaning. “
Before she could argue, he teleported away in a puff of smoke.
Belle threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “You could have told me you were a noble, Rumplestiltskin! Or should I call you Lord Gold? Honestly!” She kept ranting into the empty hall, knowing he was listening.
🥀
From his tower window, Rumplestiltskin watched the forest’s edge, his thumb tracing the chip on the teacup Belle had dropped on her first day in the castle. He hadn’t been able to tear himself away since she left hours earlier to gather ingredients for the first potion she would be brewing alone.
It was the first time she’d left the Dark Castle since arriving over a month ago.
The voices in his head cackled that she had left him, as everyone else in his life had.
The sun was halfway below the horizon when he spotted her emerging from the treeline. Rumplestiltskin ran down the stairs, two steps at a time, forgetting, in his panic, that he could teleport.
He straightened his vest and ran his sharp nails through his curls before the castle door opened on its own for its mistress.
Belle walked in, head bowed over the cloth-covered basket, whispering to it as if sharing a secret.
“Speaking to plants, now, are we?”
Belle squeaked, hiding the basket behind her. “Rum! You scared me.”
He hummed, leaning left and then right to catch a glimpse behind her. Belle mirrored him step for step, pivoting sharply to keep the basket out of his reach. “Bring back a lot of herbs, did you?”
“Enough that I’d better start prepping now if I’m to finish the potion by tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She tried to step around him, but he blocked her path.
“Ah, ah, princess. Not so fast,” Rumple chirped, pointing behind her. “What’s in the basket?”
Belle gnawed on her lower lip. “I’ll show you if you promise not to hurt it.”
“Did the witch capture a little beastie?” He wouldn’t be surprised if a woodland critter had followed Belle home.
“Maybe?” She sighed, pulling the willow basket in front of her and lifting the cloth.
Inside, a little white dove was curled up, blood dripping down its broken wing.
“Belle—”
“I know,” she interrupted his mounting lecture. “But look, I think he belongs to someone.”
She gently lifted the feathers at the dove’s neck, uncovering a small silver ring nested around its throat.
“Don’t aviarists put the bands around the birds’ feet? How strange.”
“See? I couldn’t leave him to die. He must belong to someone. Please, Rumple, can’t you save him?”
Her pleading eyes tore at what was left of his blackened heart. “Fine, but in return, you’ll sweep every speck of dirt from the castle.”
Belle laughed. “I think you liked it when I was your maid.”
His face burned as he sputtered, “All magic—”
“Comes at a price, as you’ve said. Repeatedly, every day,” she teased.
Rumplestiltskin swept his hand over the dove. Lilac magic seeped into its plumage, and after a moment, its wing twitched. The dove lifted its head, stared at him, then turned to look up at Belle and cooed.
“You’re going to be okay, little Estel.” Belle pressed a kiss to the bird’s head. Estel seemed to settle at the sound of the name, leaning into her touch and chirping softly as she traced a finger along his feathers.
Rumplestiltskin’s veins burned with bitter jealousy, feeding the darkness until it roared for blood. “I’ve changed my mind,” he snapped, eyes locked on the creature. “I’m going to roast the flying rat. It’ll make a much better dinner than a pet.”
“Oh, hush, you don’t mean that.” Belle looked at him, still beaming with joy, and leaned up to kiss him on the nose. “Thank you.”
The darkness hissed in protest as her touch doused the flames like ice on a burn. His body froze, breath catching in his throat as his pulse hammered against his eardrums. He searched her eyes for the slightest flicker of malice or deceit, but found only gratitude, happiness, and an emotion he refused to believe could be love.
Neither of them noticed the dove begin to glow a soft, pulsing amber.
