Happy Holidays, @munkinette. I was your Santa this year. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it.
Prompt: Cold Feet, heat of the moment
The bells began to toll out the usual twelve rings for noon. Only thirty more minutes and then Belle French would be Mrs. Gregory Gaston. Roderick Gold did his best to ignore the chimes, but couldn’t help the way his heart sank with every ring. He had known this day was coming and had tried to accept its inevitability, but it was all for naught. He’d known that from the very first day she’d walked into his door and smiled at him. He’d been lost in that very moment.
He’d known Belle for years. She’d walked into his shop wearing a pretty navy blue sundress and wine colored ridiculously high heels, smiled at him and said, “Hello. I love your shop and I was hoping you might be in need of some help here.”
He didn’t have a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in his window. In fact, he had been ready to growl out a barely civil, “No”, but one look into those endless blue eyes and every reason why he didn’t need her went out of the window. So, Belle became his first and only assistant. Her father owned the flower shop down the street, so perhaps that was why she always smelled like springtime. She often brought fresh flowers for his shop and even some for his home. Truth of the matter was, he didn’t exactly need an assistant for his pawnshop, though Belle lovingly polished every inch of it, taking special care with the rare books. In the end, he used her more for his second business: party planning.
Before moving to Storybrook, Gold had been a premier wedding planner and designer in New York. He’d helped plan the weddings and events of movie stars, social divas, even one minor member of royalty. It was a job he’d stumbled into after his divorce while raising his son, Neal. He’d retired and finally fulfilled his dream of opening an antique and pawnshop, but still worked the weddings in the area if the price was right. Belle had proved to be a natural at the job, calming the jittery brides and helping select colors and flowers. On the times they were up all night getting the programs right or finishing the design on the dress, she provided coffee and cheerful conversation to get them through the worst of it. Truth be told, he wondered how he’d ever gone without her.
Which is why ten months ago when she told him she was getting married, he’d spent the night getting drunk on a fine bottle of scotch one happy father-of-the-bride had given him years ago. He should have seen it coming. She’d been dating the Gaston prick for a year and a half, but he’d selfishly hoped that one day she’d throw the six-foot-nine Neanderthal out on his ear one day. Now that would never be.
She’d come to him, with that ostentatious ring sparkling on her left hand, and asked him to help her plan her nuptials. “I know you’re the greatest wedding planner,” Belle had said, “Even if you weren’t my friend, I’d still want you to do it.”
He had never been able to say no to her, even if it broke his heart into a million pieces.
So he’d done it all. He’d helped her pick her colors (light blue and yellow, the blue matched her eyes perfectly), decide on flowers, even offered up his cabin for their first night together, though the idea turned his stomach. Whoever claimed it was better to have loved and lost than to never loved at all had clearly never been forced to plan the wedding of the object of his desire.
Moe French was eagerly preparing the flowers, had even come along for the cake tasting. He prattled on about how wonderful Greg was, how charitable his son-in-law was for paying for the wedding. Belle was…quiet. Gold had seen many brides prepare for their wedding, some practically turning into a fire-breathing reptile whenever a bow was askew. Others were so detached from the affair that they never even saw their wedding decorations until they headed down the aisle. Belle went along with every part of the preparations, but only smiled at her options, often saying, “Whatever Greg wants is fine.”
That should have been his first clue.
Greg came and went, flashing his checks and snaking an arm around Belle’s waist like she was some sort of trophy he had won. Like most grooms, he knew his job was to look right and say what he was supposed to say, but he talked about the “killer bachelor party” his buddies had planned for him. Every encounter left Gold wondering what Belle saw in the man, other than his obviously good looks.
He’d kept his mouth shut and set up designing her dress. Truth be told, he’d already had the dress in mind long before she announced her engagement. He’d asked for her input early on, but she’d only smiled at him and said, “I trust you. You’re the master of this.”
That should have been his second clue.
It wasn’t until the wine tasting that he finally reached his epiphany. The town of Storybrook didn’t have a winery, so he drove Belle two towns over to the Grapes of Wrath Vineyard and Resort. Belle immediately fell in love with the name and talked about Steinbeck with the owner for an hour before they even moved on to the tasting.
Gold couldn’t help but wonder if Greg had ever read any of Steinbeck’s novels. Somehow, he doubted it.
They paid for the largest tasting experience available and even booked rooms at the resort since it was along drive and neither one cared to drive so late. Their server brought out their first bottle, an earthy red. Gold thought it was good, a bit too dry, but pleasant. Belle smiled and said, “It’s good, I know Greg likes a good red.”
They were given a sweet white with just the hint of sparkle to it. It was very fragrant, and Gold thought it would go well with the cake. He said as much to her, but Belle only smiled again. “Greg might think it’s too sweet.”
Gold was really getting tired of hearing what Greg would or wouldn’t think. They did both agree that the red blend served next was far too dry. However, the sweet rose they were given had a lovely bouquet. Gold marked down his favorites, but Belle refused to commit to any of them.
“Do you not like this place?” he asked her after their sixth taste.
“I’m just not sure what Greg wants is all.”
“Why does that matter?” he said, unable to suppress the slight growl in his tone.
“Well, he is paying for it all.”
“Then perhaps he should have been here, but since he is not, you can decide.”
“But…”
“Belle, this is your wedding,” he reminded her, “Decide what you want and not him.”
Something flashed in Belle’s eyes. She sat up a little straighter, knocked back her glass of white like it was a Jello shot, and wrote it down on her list. Gold blinked at her for a moment before downing his own. “Next, dearie?”
“Yes,” she said.
By the end of the evening, they were long past their limit and had started paying for full glasses of wine. They also discovered the owner had pear brandy and bought a bottle of that to share. Soon enough, they had forgotten why they were there and just what they were supposed to be doing. There weren’t enough wine crackers to soak up all that they had drunk.
“We should have this!” Belle announced, nearly dropping the bottle as she filled her glass again.
“For what?”
“Sunday.
“What’s on Sunday?” Gold asked. He couldn’t remember what was so important about Sunday.
“I don’t know. Its just Sunday.”
They’d both laughed, but they didn’t really understand why. “We should come her again,” Belle said.
“We can’t,” he said, some of his laughter dying.
“Why not?”
“You’re getting married.”
Belle’s drunken smile falter. “Oh…right. I’m getting married.” She poured more brandy into her glass, “I’m getting married. I’m having to buy wine for three hundred people I don’t know. I’m going to Hawaii for my honeymoon where I’ll burn to a crisp on the beach. I’m moving to a four story house without a library and antlers are on every wall.”
She took a long drink from her glass before setting it down with a satisfied sigh. “I like this stuff,” she said, “Let’s buy all of this.”
“Belle…” Gold said her name gently, “Why are you marrying Greg?”
She looked at him with eyes brightened by liquor, but the words that came out were as sober as ever. “Because I don’t have a reason not to.”
He wondered about that as they finally stumbled out of the bar and towards the hotel portion of the resort. Belle was usually quite steady on her high heels, but the wine and the rain slicked ground turned that all around. She nearly pitched forward onto the blacktop, but Gold managed to grab her. She laughed gaily, wrapping her arms around him long after she had her feet back. “I can always depend on you, Roderick,” she said, “Always.”
It had to have been the wine. That was the only explanation for it, but suddenly her lips were pressing against his. Everything went warm and delightfully tingly. He forgot how to breath, how to think, his only sense of time was lost in that perfect moment.
It was the honk of a car horn that broke them apart. Apparently they were blocking the man from leaving. Belle laughed again and dragged him away towards the hotel, the kiss and all of the questions it presented forgotten.
“It was the heat of the moment,” he said later when they were both holding their heads over their breakfast the next morning. They never spoke of it. What was the point? She was engaged and he was too much of a coward to even consider the truth.
He’d seen several cases of brides getting cold feet. Usually they found their way to the altar or wound up having to return all of the expensive gifts. Perhaps that was all with Belle, but she never showed a frenzy to run or reinvest her interests in the wedding. She was going along with the motions, smiling when warranted, and making the necessary decisions. Still her words continued to ring in his ears. “Because I don’t have a reason not to.”
A small voice inside of him told him to do something, but what? Belle was a grown woman. She had made her choice. He couldn’t tell her the truth about his feelings. He’d been burnt far too many times in that department, and he had no indications that she had feelings for him. No woman of Belle’s caliber would want him. The kiss was brought on by wine and nerves.
Still, it was hard to tell his heart that.
Three weeks before the big day and it was time for Belle’s final fitting. He’d shared with Belle his plans for her dress, but Greg had thrown out his own ideas. In the end, Gold had gone with his gut. Greg may have insisted on the guest list and orchids instead of roses (Belle’s favorite), but he had designed this dress for Belle. If Greg didn’t like it then Greg could go to hell.
He hadn’t shown Belle his designs, just sent in her measurements to the tailor along with his sketches. She hadn’t inquired much, but smiled and said those three words that were almost as good as three other words he yearned for, “I trust you.”
He closed up his shop and set Belle’s dress on a mannequin tucked in the back. She came in right after lunch, bringing two cups of tea from Granny’s. “Gold?” she asked as she walked inside.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed her. She gave him a suspicious look, but smiled and set their tea down on the counter and dutifully closed her eyes. He took her hand and led her to the back, the curtain rings scraping against the rod as he shoved it aside.
“Okay, open your eyes,” he told her.
Belle blinked them open and then let out a gasp. It was his finest design, only the best for her. He’d gone with a form fitting bodice that flared into an A line skirt. There was lace on the bodice with just a touch of sparkle in the beadwork. It was set off of the shoulder with lace sleeves that dipped into a low back. It was elegance, just a hint of boldness, with vintage charm, just like Belle.
“Roderick,” she whispered, “It’s beautiful.”
“Let’s see how it fits.”
She dutifully stripped to her underwear and he struggled to keep his thoughts from dipping into dangerous territory. The dress fit her like a glove, showing off her marvelous curves, the ivory lace glowing on her skin. He had her stand in front of an antique full-length mirror so she could see it for herself.
Gold swallowed over the lump in his throat as he set the veil in her hair so she could see the full effect. She was so glorious, even more beautiful than a model in a bridal magazine. This was Belle’s wedding dress, what he’d always known she would want. It killed him to know that this day had finally come.
“You’re a vision,” he said.
“It’s so amazing,” she said with tears shining in her eyes, “But…Greg wanted something more modern.”
The final thread holding back his feelings snapped violently like a cable holding a bridge. “To hell with him,” he hissed, “This is your dress. If he wants something modern then he can wear it himself.”
“But…”
“Why are you marrying him? You’ve been letting him control this entire wedding even though he’s hardly lifted a finger for it. This isn’t like you, Belle. I’ve seen happier widows at funerals than you are with this wedding.”
“That’s not…it’s not…” she stammered over her words, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Belle,” he said her name softly now, “Why? Just answer me why?”
She looked down towards her shoes and wiped away the wet streak on her cheek. “I have to,” she said, “Greg is a good man. He’ll take care of me…and my father.”
“Because he’s rich?”
“Partly,” she answered, “Papa has a lot of debts and he wants to make sure I’m settled. He likes Greg a lot. He’s been telling me practically since we started dating that Greg was perfect for me. So when Greg asked…I couldn’t say no.”
“But Belle…is that enough of a reason to marry him?”
She met his eyes with the mirror. “I don’t have a better reason to say no.”
It was on the top of his tongue to tell her everything, that he loved her, that he would provide for her, to marry him instead. Oh the words beat at his breast, begging to be released, but he couldn’t say them. He wanted Belle to be happy. He didn’t think Greg could do that, but could she really be happy with him? He’d married a woman once who didn’t love him. If Belle left him for someone else, he wouldn’t survive it.
They last few days of the wedding came together smoothly, but there was now a brick wall firmly between him and Belle. The day was in sight and he couldn’t sleep, thinking about how soon she would be Greg’s wife. Millions of thoughts ran through his head. Should he have asked her out years ago? What would she have said? Probably would have politely said no and then the awkwardness between them now would have been felt then. It was far too late now, but he couldn’t help but wonder and curse himself for being such a coward.
The rehearsal went fine, other than Greg’s bestman, Killian, squeezing Ruby’s ass as she walked down the aisle prompting the waitress to kick him in the shin. Hopefully he wouldn’t be doing that again. The dinner was held at Bella Note, full of the usual overpriced fare and chitchat about the big day. He saw Ruby with a roll ones so he suspected that she had some bachelorette party planned. Belle deserved one last night of fun; he knew that. Still, he hated every moment knowing that this was the end.
He said little to anyone other than a reprimand to the waiter for failing to chill the wine properly. That was when Belle pulled him aside with that sweet smile of hers and put one hand on his shoulder. “Everything is fine, Callum,” she said gently.
“I just want it all to be perfect for you.”
“I don’t need that. I just want everyone to enjoy themselves.” She nibbled on her lip for moment and looked at him through her lashes. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I’ve never cared for these things,” he said, which was the truth, though only a small part of it.
“Belle? Where are you?” he heard Ruby call for her, “We’ve got important things to do tonight.”
“I do believe your kidnappers are ready for you,” he said, giving her a wan smile.
Belle nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He could watch her walk down the aisle tonight, dance with her fiancé, and share champagne with them in front of her friends. He could plan and create this wedding for her, down to the last detail, but there was one thing he knew in his heart he could never do.
“No,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry, Belle, but I can’t.”
She frowned at him. “What?”
“Belle!” Ruby shouted, but was ignored.
“I can’t watch you do this,” he said, “I wish you all the best, my dear, but I can’t.”
“Why?” she asked with tears in her eyes.
A part of him wanted to tell her the truth. The words “because I love you!” beat at the back of his throat, but he swallowed them back. “Because I have a reason not to.”
He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Good bye, Belle. I hope you are very happy.” He walked away, leaving Ruby to find her and bring her to whatever debauched plans she had for her.
So he found himself at his shop, listening as the last bell rang its solemn note. The service would be over in a half an hour if the priest did his job right. There was a slight urge in him to do the cliché thing from the movies, kick open the door and scream out “I object!” like a lovesick fool. He wouldn’t do that to Belle. If Greg was what she wanted then he wouldn’t deny her any happiness, even if it made him miserable.
The tingle of the bell on the door of his shop filled him with rage. Why didn’t the universe just let him suffer in solitude? “We’re closed,” he snarled without turning around, “Turn around and get out of my shop, dearie.”
“Calum.”
Gold put all of his weight on his bad leg, nearly falling to the ground. He whirled around, his heart leaping in his chest. Belle was standing there in the gown he’d designed for her. Her makeup was perfect, the veil cascading down her back, looking every inch a model bride. But this wasn’t right. She was supposed to be at the church, saying “I do” to Greg.
“Belle,” he gasped out her name, “What are you doing here?”
She bit her lip and smoothed her hands on the skirt of her bridal gown. “I…I lied.”
“What?”
“I lied to you before,” she explained, “I do have a better reason to say no.”
Gold tilted his head, his brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t say a word.
“I was going to say no to him before,” Belle explained, “It was on the tip of my tongue, but my father was there, and I just couldn’t. I was going to break it off gently. Then when you…you never told me…I wanted you to say something, to tell me to end it with Greg. I thought maybe you felt the way I do, but then maybe I was wrong. Then I thought maybe it was better to marry Greg, at least for my father’s sake. I thought if you didn’t feel the same way that I do, then I really didn’t have a reason to say no.”
“Belle,” he whispered. This couldn’t be real. He was dreaming. Surely any moment his alarm clock would sound and he would curse the gods for doing this to him.
“But yesterday, you said you couldn’t come because you had a reason,” Belle continued, walking closer to him, “Please, just tell me what that is. If you don’t…I can go now and we never have to speak of it, but please, I need to know now before it’s truly too late.”
He didn’t know if this was real. He couldn’t quite believe it himself. However, he did know that dream or not, he couldn’t deny her this. He should have spoken up before, but his cowardice had silenced his tongue. What did he have to lose now?
“I love you.” There, those words were finally said.
The silence that stood between then seemed like a wall. Would it crumble now or would it grow taller? She looked down for a moment, and he was certain his heart would forever sink into the dirt. When she looked back at him there were tears shining in her eyes and her lips were set in a smile. He barely had the moment to piece it all together when she pressed her mouth to his.
He was too stunned to do anything at first, but his arms went around her of their own accord. She pulled away briefly to whisper against his lips, “I love you too.” She bit her lip, looking down again. “I should have said something before.”
“I should have too,” he confessed.
“It seems we’re both fools.”
“Then let’s promise to never be so foolish again.” He pulled her back so he could kiss her again, burying his fingers into her hair and ruining her updo, but neither cared.
Somehow, they moved out of the shop and into the back room. Belle had slipped off his jacked and was already unbuttoning his shirt. Apparently, she had decided they had wasted too much time being fools in the past. He wondered if they were going too fast, but when she slipped her hand inside lightly traced one of his nipples with her nails, his concerns evaporated. Gold growled into her mouth and started tearing at the buttons on the back of her gown, a few popping loose and rolling on the ground.
“You’ll ruin the gown you designed,” she said breathlessly.
“To hell with it,” he said. He would design her a better one when it was their time to marry. He’d like to send this torn dress to Greg, just to show the man what he lost by not paying attention to the jewel he had.
Despite their haste, it was laughable trying to get Belle out of her dress. There were so many layers that the floor was littered with ivory fabric by the time they were done. He didn’t care. It was like unwrapping the most beautiful present he had ever seen. He was not as flattering on his own body, but Belle did not recoil from the sight. When she ran her hands over his chest, dipping down towards the bulge in his pants, he was certain he was going to wake up and discover this was all a fantasy. That or die in the sweetest way imaginable.
She pushed him down into his chair, straddling his waist, before reaching down to position him at her entrance. She sank down on him slowly, her eyes fluttering while he struggled to keep himself from ending this all too soon.
Neither moved for a long while, just savoring the feeling of finally being together. They kissed and touched until finally the need to move became too great. He put his hands on her waist, while she used his shoulders so they would move together. It was slow, gentle, a need to explore rather than a race to the finish. Belle let out soughs and then low moans with each thrust. He never wanted this to end, but he was desperate to see her come undone. He could feel her walls tightening around him, and he knew she was close. He slipped one hand down to find her clit and gently touched it with his thumb.
Belle let out a cry, her eyes squeezing shut, her fingers digging into the skin of his arms so hard they left indentions, but he didn’t care. He forced himself to keep his eyes open the entire time so he could see her as she came. Only then did he finally let himself go, letting his vision go white with his own pleasure.
They held each other for a while as their hearts slowed and bodies cooled. There was so much to be done now. Certainly Greg would be furious, likely her father too. Gifts would have to be returned, money exchanged for services never rendered, but none of that mattered. They had a better reasons for being together.
Hello @munkinette it is I! Your super secret santa! I had so much fun with your prompt, I absolutely adored it and I loved being your santa. The is possibly my favorite thing I’ve ever written and I do hope you like it. You’ve been an amazing giftee and I hope we stay close!
Special thanks to @charlotteashmore13 and @faithoshauntasy for beta’ing this for me. You two rock. Cover art is courtesy of @licieoic
Prompt: fairytale, ink, rose petals, closeness.
“Rumple, what do you know about fairy tales?” Belle questioned, as she traced over the well worn cover of the book she had just finished, Scheherazade's One Thousand and One Nights, with affection.
She had just finished reading it for what had to be the fifth or sixth time since arriving at the Dark Castle. Despite having more books than she could possibly ever read in the library that Rumplestiltskin had gifted her, she kept coming back to this one. There was something about it that just kept pulling her back each time. Something about the crisp, textured pages, the golden writing that glittered in the crackling firelight, the words so beautifully flowing together to create a masterpiece. It was magical.
As usual, thoughts of magic brought to mind her sorcerer and a glance up from the gilded print revealed that Rumplestiltskin hadn’t budged from his position at his spinning wheel. He had recently moved a smaller wheel into her library, under the guise that ‘the air was drier here and it makes it easier for the straw-to-gold transformation.’ They both knew it wasn’t the true reason he had joined her, but she allowed him to have his reasons; any objections or comments would only send him scrambling away. Truth be told, she liked having him there with her. Even when they just sat together silently, it was comforting and companionable.
“Rumple, did you hear what I asked?” She spoke louder, but she still might as well have not spoken at all with the reaction she received. He didn’t even blink as he kept up the steady motion of the spinning wheel. She didn’t understand how he could stare for hours upon hours at the wheel without losing his mind. He said it helped him forget, but he would never expand on what exactly he was trying to forget, so she had given up asking. Instead she would try to watch him spin, but the steady creak of the wheel, and the desire to try and catch the second the wool turned to gold, always tired her eyes and she’d doze off and would later find herself in bed with no memory of how she had gotten there.
Laying the book down on the settee, Belle uncurled herself from the position she had been sitting in for most of the day. After a moment, where she danced erratically in place to try and shake out the pins and needles feeling from her legs, she padded over to where her silent master sat, seemingly lost in his head once again. Placing her hand on his shoulder didn’t rouse him, but he certainly reacted when she spoke mere inches from his ear. “Rumplestiltskin, did you hear me?”
The result was almost instantaneous. Rumple jumped out of his seat and the sudden motion sent her careening back, arms flailing like pinwheels to try and keep from falling. She didn’t know why she was surprised at the result, though Rumplestiltskin was miles better than where he had been when she had first joined him there in the castle nearly a year ago, he still got flighty when she got too close to him. It didn’t matter if it be in the physical sense, or if she was getting close to breaching one of the many walls he had built up around himself, he was still like a scared little kitten in many ways.
Just as she started to tip backwards, destined to meet a hard end when she hit the floor, two strong hands took hold of her arms and helped her regain her balance. It took her a second to realize that she had screwed her eyes shut, and when she finally opened them she found Rumple still holding her close, his larger than normal eyes raking over her worryingly. Once he seemed satisfied that she was no longer in danger of falling or hurting herself, he was gone in poof of violet smoke. Just like always, after a moment of closeness and kindness, he’d run away and put his walls back up.
“Rumplestiltskin! Rumplestiltskin get back here!” Belle shouted, knowing that even though he was no longer in the library, the magician had ways to spy on the rest of the castle. She wasn’t surprised however when he didn’t return. It looked like it was going to be another game of cat and mouse with the ‘oh so terrifying’ Dark One.
She started her search in the kitchen, she had just made a rum cake earlier that morning and she knew he couldn’t resist it usually. Sure enough the cake was gone, but so was her sorcerer. Her next spot was his tower. It was his usual hide-away spot because it gave him a built in excuse that he was working, not hiding, nope not hiding at all. To her surprise, however, he wasn’t there. A quick peek in his bed chambers, the trophy room, and even the dungeons all resulted in nothing as well.
Conceding defeat Belle trudged back to the library. Everything was in the same place as when she left it, so Rumple hadn’t come back here either. Retreating back to her favorite settee she retrieved her book and stretched out, intending on getting comfy for another long reading session. While stretching out her neck she glanced up at the ceiling and screamed.
“Rumplestiltskin what are you doing!”
Sitting cross-legged on the ceiling, and currently stuffing what appeared to be the last piece of her rum cake into his mouth, above her was the man she had been looking high and low for, but apparently, she just hadn’t looked high enough. At her scream, he gave one of his trademark giggles, though it was slightly muffled due to the mouthful of cake, and flipped right side up to sit atop one the bookshelves. “Just inspecting the dusting, Dearie. I think you need to put a little more effort into it, it's positively filthy up here.”
“Rumplestiltskin, I didn’t chase you down to talk about my cleaning practices.”
“Well that much is clearly obvious,” Rumple trilled as he ran a finger across the top of the bookcase, then looking at it with exaggerated disgust. “Really, what do I keep you around for if not to keep the place clean for our guests.”
“Rumple, you don’t have guests,” Belle reminded him.
“Well maybe if you dusted our bookshelves instead of reading that silly drivel all day, we would!” He ended his sentence with a flourish of his hand and violet smoke enveloped her book, wisping it up, up and away to his hands. He held it with just the tips of his fingers as if he was afraid it would dirty his hands, or possibly the other way around, as he looked it over. “This nonsense again? Haven’t you read it already?”
Belle crossed her arms and glared up at him, “Yes, I’m rereading it. And they aren’t nonsense, they are fairy tales. They also happen to be the reason I was chasing you all over the castle.”
“I already told you, Dearie, I’m not taking you to Agrabah. Not after the Narnia incident. That lion was going to eat you for an afternoon snack, that was if he didn’t fill up on those four urchins first. Kings and Queens, pah, they’ll give a crown to anyone over there these days. I liked the last queen better, a bit cold, but at least she didn’t let some overgrown kitten tramp all over the place. ”
Rolling her eyes at his exaggeration, she tried to control her sarcasm as she responded. “Aslan wasn’t going to eat me, Rumple. You on the other hand...Well, you were trying to steal bits of his mane…”
“Well, it was important to the potion I was working on!”
Belle smothered a giggle at his petulant tone. It wouldn’t do to argue with him on this point, and she forced herself to try and look understanding. “Of course it was. As it was, I didn’t want to go to Agrabah, well I do, but that’s not what I was going to ask you about. I wanted to ask what you know about fairy tales.”
“They make it hard for the judgmental little jellyfish to fly,” Rumple quipped with a smirk. Belle knew he had little love for the fairies, though why was another mystery he kept hidden underneath all his layers.
“Rumple, that’s not what I meant. Fairy tales like that.” She gestured to the book that he was still absentmindedly flipping through. “What do you know about them? Are the stories real? Who gets to decide what gets written down? How do they keep the stories the same after so much time? How-”
Her barrage of questions ceased when Rumple casually slid off the top of the tall bookshelf and came plunging down towards the floor. Her heart leapt into her throat and she was certain that she was going to be scraping Dark One off the floor that night. At the last second, just before he would have crashed down in an ungraceful heap of broken bones on the floor, he came to a stop mid-air. He hovered there a moment, apparently relishing in her horrified expression, before stepping casually down to the ground as if nothing had happened.
“Why the sudden interest in these stories?” Rumple asked as he traced over the cover just as Belle had done before.
“It’s not a sudden interest really; I’ve always loved fairy tales. My mum used to read them to me before I went to bed, and I would dream of these beautiful far off lands. I could never travel much outside of Avonlea but these stories allowed me to travel the world. They taught me about love and kindness, beauty, responsibility, family and so much more. I grew up on fairy tales as did so many other people. They help shape our society.”
Rumple waved away her words with a casual flick of the wrist as he started pacing the room. “Yes, yes. That’s all well and good but you weren’t asking about how fairy tales influence the world, you were asking about the origin of them. You are skirting around something. What is it?”
Belle chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she tried to think of the best way to phrase what she wanted. Rumplestiltskin was usually pretty good about giving her what she wanted, though he’d deny it if asked, unless it had to do with magic. The unwritten rule of the castle was magic was off limits to her. Sure he might charm certain things for her, her baths to fill themselves, her chamber pots to empty, etc, but that was basic everyday things. If fairy tales were more magic than myth, like she thought they were, he might not let her have anything to do with them.
“I want to write a fairy tale. They’ve helped me so much, and I know they’ve helped others as well. I want to do that for someone else. I want to be able to help them. I want to write the story that someone reads over and over again because something in it just resonates within them. I know I will never be some great leader that people remember in the history books as inspiring hope in their people, but if I can write a story that touches one person and that one person shares it with another, and that person shares it. Then I can help improve the world.” Belle finished, feeling rather silly.
Rumple stared at her unblinkingly, his expression maddeningly unreadable, and she wondered if she should just let the whole thing drop. Gaston had told her several times that she lived too much in her books, and didn’t know how to live in reality. Maybe that’s what she was trying to do here. She loved her books so much she was trying to live on through them. Maybe she really was as pathetic as Gaston told her she was.
“You know what? Nev-”
“Fairy tales aren’t like normal stories. They are true stories of heroism, overcoming grand obstacles, and finding happiness. The fairy tales you read now, happened hundreds of years ago and were written down by a trusted source, usually a fairy hence the name fairy tale. There’s a very good chance that some day, far in the future, little nibblings will be reading the story of Brave Prince Charming and his Snow White.
“Fairies are the natural writers of these stories, they are the “paragon of good” and are often asked for advice or aid by the heroes so they know the truth of the stories. Others have written them in the past though. Sometimes there was a servant or aid to the heroes who would be trusted to write down the story. Once I think the reformed ‘villain’ was the author. In any case, they use a special ink and paper to write down the tales and the magic imbued within them keep the original copy from falling apart or being destroyed. The original copy can practically last forever.
“The fairies then either keep the tales in their grubby hands or, if requested, they will be given to the people the story was about. That’s how the stories usually spread. Like you said, people shared these stories. They’d read the original to their children, and so on and so forth. Part of the magic of the story is the basics of the story. The prince saves the princess and together they save the kingdom. Some details may change, but the essential bits are set in stone, or in this case paper.”
Belle sat in shock at the information overload. Never would she have thought that there was so much lore and history to fairy tales. She had hoped yes, but life had taught her that most of her hopes were usually just that, hopes. “That’s amazing! I can-”
“Yes, yes, yes, it’s all very fantastical, but like I said fairy tales require special ink and paper. Special ink and paper that I do not possess.” The last word was spoken with an air of finality, and he set the book down on one of the end tables scattered throughout the library as he made his way towards the door.
That was it. Her chance to change the world was gone. Her one chance...gone just like that.
“No,” Belle whispered to herself. She wasn’t going to let that be it. If this could be her chance to make a difference in the world, to help even one person, she had to do everything she could to make it happen. Rumple said he didn’t have the ink and paper necessary for her to write a fairy tale, but she had seen him go to great lengths for his potions before, she just had to convince him that this was worth his time and effort too.
Her footsteps sounded thunderous as they echoed in the library as she chased after Rumplestiltskin, but despite the fact that he must have heard her coming, he still didn’t turn around. When she finally caught up to him, she tried to slow her momentum, but failed and skidded right into his back.
“Oomph.” The air whooshed out of her lungs as she collided with Rumple’s solid form. Automatically her arms came around his middle to keep from falling, and she felt him tense slightly. Blushing scarlet she pulled back slightly, but didn’t let go completely. “Uhm, sorry.”
“Was there something you needed, dearie?” Rumple’s voice was higher than normal, and not in the high pitched falsetto he used to throw people off.
“I want to write a fairy tale.” Belle addressed his back, trying to sound firm and strong in her desire. It was hard to do when she was inches from him, staring intently at the detailed brocade of his waist coat.
“Yes, you said that before. But if you remember I also told you I don’t have the ink or the paper required for you to do so.” His voice was still high, and she noticed his fingers were making that twisting, spinning, motion she saw him do whenever he was nervous. Despite the fact he could have poofed away in an instant, he didn’t.
“You mean to tell me that the great and powerful Dark One isn’t capable of getting a little ink and paper? It’s outside even your reach?” She was baiting him, but if she knew her Rumple, then he wouldn’t be able to resist proving her wrong.
“I never said it was outside my reach to get it, it’s just such a tedious task. I don’t know why I would even bother getting them. The whole thing is beneath me.”
She didn’t know if he meant to sound so cold and harsh, if it was his master plan to get her to let him go, but if it was, it worked. Her arms dropped to her sides and she stepped away from him. Rumple used his new freedom to put some space between them, seemingly surprised to see her looking so upset.
“Belle, I di-”
“Rumple,” This time she cut him off as he had done to her multiple times. “Please, Rumple. I won’t ask for anything else, just this, please?”
Rumple regarded her carefully and after a long moment nodded. A moment later he disappeared in a poof of violet smoke.
Rumplestiltskin hated fairies. The no good little harpies were always preaching about how pure and innocent their magic was, but he knew the truth of it. He could feel the darkness of their magic resonate within him. Sure on the outside they were ‘good’, but at the core of their being, darkness took root in them just like it did him. No one was a better example of that than the head jellyfish herself, Blue.
Too long had she sat on her magic and power, and it had corrupted her just as his curse had corrupted him. At least he was willing to admit it, she still deluded herself in to thinking she was a saint. Nothing good ever came from her magic anymore, a wish to find your true love would result in watching them fall in love with another, a request to heal a sick loved one would come at the cost of another’s health, a desire to increase your fortune would have your pockets over filling but your family leaving you. Everyone brushed the incidents off as fate or human error, but Rumple knew better. She was simply incapable of granting a wish without twisting it in some horrible way. He knew that better than anyone.
Despite his hatred for Blue and the rest of her band of fairies, he needed them in this moment. Fairytale paper and ink were rare and valuable objects, and were kept in the hands of the blasted fairies. The only other person who had access to them was the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, and Rumple really doubted that he’d be in a forgiving mood after having been a mouse for a few years. No, if he wanted to get the materials for Belle, it was going to have to be through the damn fairies.
That’s why he found himself walking through the enchanted flower garden that Blue called home. Just the fairy magic in the air had his skin crawling, by itself it wasn’t enough to immobilize him or truly hurt him, but it was irritating. Their magic felt like sandpaper being rubbed against his skin constantly. While at first it wasn’t bad, the longer he remained in its presence, the worse it got. He could feel their magic clashing with his own, making the voices in his head hiss and scream for him to run away, but he couldn’t. He was here for Belle.
He knew he had reached the place that Blue called home the second he saw it. It was the biggest, most obnoxious, tulip of the bunch and the air was saturated with dark magic. He didn’t understand how no one else could feel the evilness that surrounded the area, but it wasn’t his concern at the moment. He had come here for a reason, and the sooner he got it taken care of, the sooner he could be away from this flowery prison. “Reul Ghorm! Reul Ghorm, I know you’re here! Come down here, you duplicitous devil!”
Nothing. Not a word or sound. The only thing that suggested she had even heard him was the slight shimmer in the magic surrounding the flower. She was trying to keep him out. If that’s the game she wanted to play, he was more than capable of out-magicking her. Summoning a harmless energy ball to the palm of his hand, he decided to give her a warning, “Come down willingly, or I’m bringing this whole damn garden down.”
Nothing.
“I warned you, Dearie!” Rumple shouted and tossed the ball of energy at the nearest flower. It bowed and shuddered, but didn’t fall. Blue didn’t show herself, but several fairies cried out from inside the flower he attacked. Summoning more energy balls he threw two at a duo of violently purple calla lilies. The flowers shuddered and more shrieks were heard, but still Blue didn’t show.
He kept up the barrage of energy balls at the flowers, careful never to hit the same flower more than once and to never hit Reul Ghorm’s personal flower cubby. The air was filled with the shrieks and wails of the fairies, crying out for their leader to save them, it was exactly what he wanted. If Blue wanted to keep her ‘good and pure’ image, she couldn’t allow an attack on her garden to go on.
Summoning the biggest energy ball so far he hurled it at the tulip closest to Blue’s own. The tulip shook violently and then, to his own surprise, a single petal fell, floating down to lay at his feet. The fairies inside were exposed to him, and the three gnats were grouped together crying. Calling up another ball, designed to hurt, not kill, he aimed it at the fairies. “Last chance Reul Ghorm!” Rumple called out. When he got no response once more, he let the ball fly from his hand.
“Stop!”
The energy ball froze in midair before disappearing in a glittery explosion. Rumple smirked as Blue fluttered down in front of him. He could tell she was enraged, probably more over the fact that he had damaged one of her precious flowers, than the fact that he had put her fairies in danger. “Dark One, what are you doing here? This is a sacred place. Dark magic isn’t allowed here.”
“Well, had you come out to see me earlier, I’d have been gone by now. But instead you decided to play hide and seek like a child. Now if you’d just hand over the fairy tale paper and ink I’ll be gone in a blink.” He held out his hand expectantly, but wasn’t surprised when nothing appeared.
“Do you honestly think I will give fairy tale instruments to the Dark One. Fairy tales are stories of goodness, purity and love, things you know nothing about.” Blue glared down at him before continuing, “Only a fairy is allowed to write fairy tales.”
“You lie. You may claim that only you and your band of harpies can, but others have done it. Scheherazade was human and she wrote an entire book of them. Anpu was human and once a villain, and yet he wrote his story. You are not the only ones who can use those tools, so hand them over.”
Blue’s lip curled in disgust and Rumple smirked because he knew she hated being told she was wrong, especially by him. “I’m growing impatient, Dearie,” He sing-songed, enjoying the way it seemed to annoy Blue even more.
“Regardless of who has used them in the past, I will not allow such precious and pure items to be used by someone as corrupt as you.” Blue turned her back on him, flying imperiously back towards her flower home as if that ended the conversation.
Summoning up a true fireball Rumple launched it at the mosquito’s back, delighting in the way she cried out in shock. He knew the fireball couldn’t kill her, unfortunately she was almost as hard to kill as he was, but it would annoy the hell out of her, and that was just as good. When she spun around, she was as mad as Rumple had ever seen her, and it had him giggling manically which of course only made her even more livid.
“I wasn’t finished yet, Reul. I still want that ink and paper.”
Blue flew over, brandishing her tiny wand like a weapon, poking him in the nose with it, hissing out her words, “Listen Dark One, I will never let you use them. Now begone!”
With a final jab of her wand a great force shoved him back sending him flying through the garden, all the way back to where Jefferson sat toying with his hat. Rumple landed in an ungraceful heap near the portal jumper’s feet, causing the younger man to smirk down at him. “So, how’d the meeting with the Fairy Superior go?”
“Shut up, Hatter.”
Rumplestiltskin paced around his work room, doing his best to ignore Belle’s calls from the hall. She had been trying to talk to him ever since Jefferson had brought him back to the castle. He knew she wanted to ask him about the trip, but he couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in her face when she realized he was empty handed, so he had quickly come up here to get away from her.
Not that he cared if she was disappointed. No. He just didn’t want to have to deal with an upset maid, that was all. No other motive, none at all.
“Rumplestiltskin, will you unlock this door already!” Belle shouted, her voice slightly muffled by the heavy wooden door she was pounding on.
“No. Now go and clean like you are supposed to do, or I will be eating maiden for dinner tonight,” Rumple growled. While it didn’t scare her like it would have most people, he did finally hear her retreating, mumbling something about “not eating anything at all.” With her gone he could finally sit and think about what he was going to do.
He thought briefly about having Belle going to Blue to ask for the materials herself but he didn’t trust that venomous little bitch. She’d either whisk her off back to her incompetent father, who’d greet her with an army of clerics, or she’d try and ‘cleanse’ Belle herself. No, he couldn’t subject her to that. Next he considered making it the price of Charming or Snow’s next favor but the future was too tightly mapped out and any deviation could screw up his chance of ever seeing Bae again. No, he couldn’t use them either. The ideas of using Jefferson, Blue knew of their connection so she wouldn’t give them to him, Regina, she was almost as bad as him, or Widow Lucas, she owed him a favor but was too integrated into Charming and Snow’s future, were all shot down quickly. No, he wasn’t going to get the materials from Blue. At least not short of killing her for them, and he really didn’t think Belle would care for that. No if Belle was going to write her damn fairy tale, he was going to have to find some alternatives for her to use.
With a casual wave of his hands he summoned every original copy of fairy tales he had in the castle. For the next few days Rumple didn’t leave his tower, instead he poured over the books trying to learn everything about the magic in them. Belle had given up trying to get him to come out after the second day, now she simply brought up trays of food a couple times a day. He didn’t know what she thought of the fact that he never touched them. She had to know but it didn’t seem to deter her because she kept bringing them anyway. He just couldn’t take the time to eat. He had to find an alternative.
Most of the books appeared the same, creamy white, crisp pages that hadn’t yellowed despite them being centuries old, gold writing that hadn’t faded and still shone in the light. There were a few that were different though. One was pure white, so bright and clean that it made everything else around it look dirty and dingy. When he touched the pages it felt as if he had been burned and he quickly withdrew his hand. A quick diagnostic spell told him what he already suspected, this fairytale was written on unicorn hide. So there was at least one alternative to the original materials. Encouraged, Rumple poured over the rest of the books, finding a few more oddities amongst the bunch. The spotted grey pages that were soft to touch turned out to be the pelt of a selkie, the delicate pages that seemed ready to float away on the smallest breeze were actually pegasus feathers, the silvery-blue overlapping scales ended up being mermaid leather. There was a fifth alternative that he found, but it was so grotesque that it horrified even him. He banished that particular fairytale from Belle’s library, lest she ever accidently come across it.
With multiple alternatives to the paper solved for the moment he focused on his next task. Figuring out how he was going to make the ink. Taking one of the tales written on the official paper he ran another type of diagnosis test, this time focusing on the origin of the materials. He then ran a separate test on the alternative papers to see if there was any differences in the inks.
As he waited for the tests to run he popped out to the hall just long enough to snag the dinner tray Belle had placed there an hour before, as the Dark One he didn’t need to eat like normal people did, but it was hard to resist the smell of Belle’s cooking. Roast lamb with rosemary and parmesan crusted red potatoes, but missing from the plate was his desert. In its normal place was a folded note with his name on it written in Belle’s perfect penmanship. Frowning slightly, he picked it up and opened it to read it.
Rumple, you can have your dessert when you return my books. Until then, the birds are getting an unexpected surprise.
Yours truly, Belle
In disbelief that Belle would actually take such actions Rumple hastened to the window where sure enough when he peered out he saw Belle walking the grounds tossing out handfuls of what appeared to be the rum cake he loved so much. As if she knew she was being watched she looked up to the tower window and gave a little smile and wave when she saw him standing there. Growling under his breath he stormed away from the window back towards the table where the books were. Didn’t she understand he was doing this all for her? It’s not like he took away the books as a joke. He was trying to get her the damned fairy tale she wanted. He banished away the rest of his dinner, apparently he wasn’t going to get any reprieve until this was finished.
It took two more nights of empty stomachs and staring at golden words before he finally reached a breakthrough. The inks themselves all seemed to be identical, even those written on the alternative papers, but components of the ink were interesting. A closer look at the makeup of the ink showed the ink itself wasn’t special, but the magic was. There was a spell for immortality, one to return things to what they once were, gold was ironically weaved amidst the spells most likely because it was considered something valuable to everyone, an odd spell to make the story catchy and easy on the ear, and a spell so that all the realms and worlds would know of the tale. He understood now why Blue was so against him getting his hands on a vial of the ink. If he was able to extract the immortality spell and duplicate it, the results could be disastrous. Luckily for Blue he was already immortal and had no desire to make anyone else that way. However, knowing the different elements of the ink made replicating it easier. There was no way he could completely recreate the ink from scratch, that kind of magic was older than even him, stretching back to Merlin and his predecessors, but just like the paper he could find alternatives.
For the first time in almost a week Rumplestiltskin left his tower. In a hurry, he dashed to his chambers and changed from the clothes he had been wearing for the last week into something much more suitable for travel. Forgoing his usual tactic of intimidation he went against the spiky leathers and feathered scarves, and instead he chose a pair of basic black leather pants, a blue silk shirt and, black waist coat. They’d be casual enough for all, but also proper enough, for all of his travels. Content with his outfit, he flashed to the kitchen, the first place he knew Belle would come in the morning, and quickly scribbled out a note to leave on the tea tray.
Belle,
Had to go out for a few deals. I will be gone a week, two tops. I expect the place to be spotless when I return, Dearie.
Rumplestiltskin.
P.S. Your books have been returned to the library.
The first destination Rumple had insisted Jefferson take them to was a strange little realm called ‘Scotland.’ Well it wasn’t the actual name of the realm but the location within the pocket realm that they needed. This realm was a particularly funny one, with motorized beasts that could move without horses, and boxes that showed moving pictures and stories. When he first landed here in search of Bae he thought he had found the Land Without Magic but his skin hadn’t changed and just like now he could still feel the magic buzzing under his skin. No there was magic in this realm for sure, but unlike in the Enchanted Forest the magic here was kept hidden. The witches and wizards here came in all shapes and sizes but they all seemed to end up at one place, some beat up old castle named Hogwarts.
Children learning to cast amatuer spells weren’t the only ones that called Hogwarts home though, so did a remarkable beast by the name of Fawkes. Phoenixes didn’t exist in the Enchanted Forest and very few other magical realms were lucky enough to have magical birds. Only this realm and one other that Rumple knew of had more than a handful, and this was the only realm where the bird had been domesticated. They were such a coveted animal, not only for their status but because of the magic they possessed. The birds themselves were immortal, they could disappear and reappear in a flash of flames, carry more than ten times their own weight, and, possibly most coveted of all, their tears contained healing powers. It was Fawkes’ tears he was after today.
“Rumple, do you think it was a smart idea coming here after last time?” Jefferson asked nervously as he followed Rumple towards the castle. “I have a daughter I’d like to be able to return to.”
“Oh I’m sure Dimbledwarf or whatever his name is has forgotten all about it by now.” Rumple waved a casual hand to dismiss his worry. It had been several years since they had last been here, the old headmaster was sure to have forgotten about the dragon incident. Upon finally reaching the gates of the castle he was shocked, literally. When he touched the giant gate, a shock of magic threw him back about ten feet. Apparently he wasn’t as forgotten as he had though.
Jefferson’s amused face appeared over him, “So they forgot all about us huh?”
“Shut it, Jefferson.” Rumple groaned as he sat up. That was fast becoming a habit that he didn’t want to repeat.
Jefferson tried to speak but the loud squeaking of the gate opening cut him off. Standing there wasn’t the kind, grandfatherly, looking old man they had met on their last trip but a younger, more severe looking, woman with her hair pulled back into a tight bun, dressed in emerald green robes. “You must be Rumplestiltskin. I didn’t expect you to be so…” She trailed off, apparently unsure of the right word.
“Handsome? Charming? Powerful? I know it comes a such a sho-”
“Tall. The stories always imply you’re shorter.” The mystery woman cut him off and while she didn’t smile there was a definite sign of smugness in her face.
“Well I didn’t come here to speak to you, Dearie, so if you will let us pass,” Rumple hissed out as he strode forward again. The witch stood aside to his surprise, but it was soon evident why. Once again as soon as he reached the gate he was blasted backwards. At least this time he was able to right himself more quickly so to not look quite so foolish. “What is the meaning of this!?” Rumple asked.
“You didn’t really think Albus would allow you back after the dragon incident?” The witch asked incredulously.
“Well isn’t he the one who is always preaching about ‘forgiveness’ and that other nonsense? Maybe he should extend the courtesy forward.”
“That will not be the case. Good bye, Rumplestiltskin.” The witch disappeared back behind the gates which quickly shut behind her.
Growling and cursing Rumple paced back and forth in front of the gate trying to figure out what to do next. He needed to get to that damn phoenix. He could try and find another phoenix, but even in this land they were rare creatures. That’s why he had planned on using this one. He couldn’t believe Dumbledore was being this unmoveable. So he had accidentally let a dragon loose on the school, but it’s not like it was the first time it had happened. Crazy things happened at Hogwarts all the time, right?
Hours passed with Rumple pacing in front of the gate, trying to figure out another plan to get the tears he need for the ink. Jefferson was laying spread out in the grass as if this was just a vacation for him, which granted, it pretty much was, but it didn’t make it less annoying. “Will you get up, and make yourself useful!” Rumple growled as he made another pass by Jefferson.
“What do you want me to do? I open portals and I can’t exactly open a portal inside the castle. Doing the thinking is your job, I’m just here too look pretty and get us home.”
“Well you won’t be doing either of those things unless I get those damn tears!” Rumple snarled.
Jefferson propped himself on his elbows and watched his friend carefully, he was more agitated than he had seen the man in ever. Usually he was the picture of calm and collected, he always had the upper hand and was six steps ahead of everyone else. Something was getting to him. When Rumple had shown up at his cabin, Jefferson had been ready to turn him away. He had a daughter now, and he had to think of her first, but there was something different about him. He hadn’t said exactly what this little mission was about, only that it was extremely important, and if Jefferson went he wouldn’t have to do another job for years. So he had sent Grace off to her aunt’s, and hadn’t asked any questions, but now he was starting to wonder. What was it about this that was so important to Rumplestiltskin.
“Rumple, why do you need these phoenix tears so badly?”
“None of your business, Hatter!”
“I beg to differ. You drag me off to another realm, and then make me sit here twiddling my thumbs while you pace around. I think I deserve to know what makes these tears so precious. It’s not for the Queen, is it?”
Rumple sneered in his direction, “Regina is the last person I would trust with phoenix tears. They’re not for her.”
“Who are they for then?” Jefferson asked, noting that he didn’t deny that they were for someone. He had a niggling suspicion on who they were for now, he just had to get the man to admit it.
“None of your business.”
“Who?” Jefferson asked a bit louder, getting up to stand face to face with his friend.
“No one!” Rumple hissed in his face, his tone sending a clear message for Jefferson to back down.
“Who!”
“No one!”
“Who!”
“No one!”
“Who!”
“Belle!” Rumple shouted, the name positively deafening in the clearing.
Jefferson stepped back with a smirk, “Now was that so hard to admit?”
“Shut it, Hatter” Rumple grumbled, his face a few shades darker than normal.
They both stood there in silence, Rumple still blushing and trying to look anywhere but at Jefferson, and Jefferson smirking at Rumple. At the edge of the clearing a bird started tweeting some little tune. Finally Rumple spoke up, “I made a deal with her Jeff. I have to come through. I need those tears.”
Jefferson nodded, his smirk gone. He understood what his best friend wasn’t ready to admit yet. He had long suspected that the mage had feelings for his maid, but this just confirmed it. No way Rumple would go this far unless he was in love. “Alright, well let’s figure something out.”
Together they ran through half a dozen ideas of how to get into the castle, but every time one of them brought an idea up, the other one shot it down. On the edge of the clearing the bird picked up a different tune, flying a bit closer to them. More ideas were brought up, more shot down, still the bird tweeted away. Rumple started explaining an elaborate plan about one of the hidden tunnels into the castle when the bird caught Jefferson’s eye. He watched as the bird would flit about before finally landing and start singing, soon other birds would follow after him and join in.
“-nd then it’s just a matter of getting past the tree! Which sho-”
“Rumple, the phoenix is a bird right?” Jefferson interrupted, a plan already in mind. It was stupid they hadn’t thought of it earlier.
“Yes, Jefferson, a phoenix is technically a bird. But it’s so much more, it’s a-”
“Yeah, yeah I know that. But it’s a bird. And what do birds like?” Jefferson cut him off again, excitement evident in his voice.
Rumple followed Jefferson’s gaze to the bird singing and the flock it had accumulated and for the first time in hours he allowed himself the smallest of smirks. “You know, Hatter, there might just be a brain in there after all.”
Rumple conjured up a lyre and a small stool to sit upon; it was stupid that he hadn’t thought of this earlier. Phoenixes were at the base of their core still birds, and birds produced music in one form or another, they were also drawn to it. If Belle would have been here she could have told him that in seconds, and they wouldn’t have wasted precious hours doing nothing, he was beginning to regret not bringing her on this trip.
Dragging up what knowledge he had left about phoenixes, he knew they were mournful creatures, known to sing a lament at funerals to those they bonded. Their whole being was based on death and rebirth, so Rumple picked a song that his village used to sing at funerals. It was a simple tune, but one that had been heard much too often. The music filled the clearing, a lamentful sound that hurt the heart.
Rumple didn’t know how long he played and sang before he heard the soft flutter of wings next to him. Looking out of the corner of his eye he saw the large scarlet and gold bird staring unblinkingly at him. No tears yet, it wasn’t sad enough.
He switched to another tune, one closer to home. The song was the one he used to sing to Bae when he had nightmares to help him get back to sleep. After he had lost him, he’d sung the song to himself to try and comfort his own soul to no relief. He was surprised to feel tears sliding down his own cheeks, but when Fawkes laid his head against his lap and let three tears slip from his eyes he knew it was worth the pain of the memories. A quick twitch of the fingers preserved the tears in a vial, and his mission at Hogwarts was accomplished. But still he kept singing.
It was nearly an hour later that Fawkes gave a low call and flew off in a flash of crimson and gold. Rumple tucked away the vial in his waist coat and banished the lyre and stool. Facing Jefferson he gave his friend a small nod. “We’re done here.”
“Where to next, boss?” Jefferson asked as he activated his hat.
“A joyful little place called Asgard.”
The trip to Asgard was definitely an interesting one to say the least. Rumple’s contact there was a young prince by the name of Loki who seemed much more interested in causing mischief for his brother than helping them out. More than once, Rumple would take a swipe at the Prince, intent on cuffing him over the head, only for his hand to pass straight through the boy’s illusion. With his aid though, they managed to get an audience with the All-father where Rumple was able to plead his case for a few drops of the magical Mead of Poetry. Anyone who drank the mead became a scholar and great poet, someone revered in their world. It would be the perfect ingredient for the ink to enable Belle’s story to be a lyrical tale that lived on through the ages. So of course the Aesir had rejected his request. Even when Rumple had explained his grand plan to the king, he had been refused, apparently the All-father was less caring towards mortals than his reputation stated.
As much as Rumple loathed to admit it, it was actually thanks to the help of Loki that he was able to get his hands on the mead. After Odin had his goons toss Rumple and Jefferson out, the young prince had come to them with a deal. He’d help get them the mead if in return Rumple gave him some of his gold thread. The trickster wouldn’t explain what exactly he needed the thread for, but at this point Rumple couldn’t afford to be picky.
The deal had been struck, and the ebony haired prince had led them through a series of tunnels and hidden hallways until they finally reached Odin’s treasure room. There were things there that Rumple had dreamed of getting his hands on, the dark ones in his head whispered for him to whisk them all away to his castle, but he remembered why he was there. Belle. He was there to get what he needed to make Belle happy. He had taken two drops of the mead in exchange for of a spool of his golden thread.
Rumple had wished that had been the last he’d seen of Loki, but unfortunately he required his aid in his next venture as well, gathering sap from Yggdrasil. The world tree connected all the realms in the known worlds and would be the best ingredient to help spread Belle’s story. Unfortunately, access to the tree was restricted to Aesir and so Rumple was forced to rely on the teenaged brat again.
With the promise of a cloaking spell in return, Loki took them through another of his hidden portals that he seemed so fond of. They came out just below the realm of Midgard and immediately their presence was recognized by the damn squirrel gossip that made it’s home in the tree. Loki quickly took care of him and the other beast nesting in the tree with his illusions and bag of tricks while Rumple and Jefferson tapped the tree. Thankfully it didn’t take too long for him to get the sap, and without a backwards glance he and Jefferson departed, leaving Loki to find his own way home, happy to finally be rid of the annoying little snark.
With their exotic travels done, Rumple had Jefferson bring them back home, landing on the shores of Lake Nostos. Surveying the lake, it was evident that Charming hadn’t been here yet and so the siren still resided in the lake. That meant facing whatever she decided to throw his way. Taking a deep breath he took the three vials with the ingredients from his vest and gave them to Jefferson. “Don’t you dare lose those Hatter,” Rumple said as he strode towards the lake.
No sooner did his boot tips breach the crystal clear water than the Siren appeared up from the center. She was as beautiful as she was deadly. “Hello, Rumplestiltskin,” she cooed.
“Begone, devil. Your witchcraft won’t work on me,” Rumple muttered as he summoned an empty vial. Doing his best to ignore the water demon, who was watching him with an amused smile, Rumple attempted to fill the vial but each time he dipped it into the water it came up empty. Growing more and more frustrated he was practically punching the water in an attempt to fill the vial.
“Papa? Papa why are you so upset?”
Rumplestiltskin froze. No, it couldn’t be, it was impossible. Or was it? Lake Nostos returned that which was lost, and his boy was definitely lost. Slowly, not quite believing what he was seeing, he lifted his gaze to come eye to eye with Bae. “Bae…?”
“Papa, why are you upset?” His boy asked him again.
Reaching out he tried to cup his Bae’s cheek, but he stepped back out of his reach, deeper into the lake. Instinctively Rumple followed after him, he had waited three hundred years to be reunited with his boy, he had to get to him. “Bae! Come back!”
“Come play, Papa!” Bae called as he ran out further into the lake, the water splashing up to his waist.
“I’m coming Bae!” Rumple called as he followed his son further out into the lake. Swimming had never been a strong suit of his, but if Bae wanted to play in the water then he’d play in the water.
Every time that he got close to Bae, his son would splash away further into the lake, and soon Rumple was struggling to keep his head above the water. Finally his boy swam up to his side, all soaked curls, big blue eyes, and…
Blue eyes. This Bae had blue eyes. His Bae had brown eyes. Realization struck him just as the Siren!Bae did, and then he was being drug underwater in an iron tight grip. He kicked and punched at the siren to no effect, he even tried magicking away, but something blocked him. As the Dark One, it was technically impossible for him to drown, but it would be an incredible torture.
Just as he was accepting his fate, he was suddenly floating up, up, up towards the surface. When he finally broke the surface he sucked in lungful after lungful of air, mindful of the fact that someone was cussing up a storm inches from him and was pulling him towards land. It took him another moment to realize that the person dragging his still shellshocked body toward shore was, in fact, Jefferson. “Jeff? What happened?”
“What happened? What happened! What happened is you are without a doubt the stupidest person I have ever met. That siren played you! She had you hook, line, and sinker. The big bad Dark One turned to a sap in less than a minute. If I hadn’t been here, you’d be dead.” Jefferson growled at him.
When they got to shore Jefferson practically shoved him onto the sand before grabbing the vial Rumple had abandoned before. Rumple tried to protest as Jefferson walked back towards the water, but when the portal jumper entered the water there was no sign of the siren and he was able to scoop up the water with no issue. Storming back to shore he tossed the vial at the stunned Rumple who caught it with floundering hands.
“Wait, what? How?” Rumple questioned.
“Let’s just say there’s nothing that siren can do to me.” Jefferson mumbled as he started collecting the things he had shed before rushing in to save Rumple. “Let’s go home now, Rumple.”
The trip home was a silent one. Rumple was still in shock over what happened and Jefferson didn’t seem any more eager to talk about it either. Rumple took Jefferson to Grace’s aunt’s home, and paid up twice what was originally offered. The man had saved him after all. Jefferson took the money without a word, and it wasn’t until Rumple was just about to leave that he spoke up at all. “Is she really worth all the trouble, Rumple?”
Rumple froze before simply asking, “Who?”
“Belle. You said you were going through all this for her. Is she worth it? You spent hours trying to coerce a damn bird to cry, three days with a teenaged god who you couldn’t stand, and almost died, all for her. Is she really worth it?”
Looking back Rumple met his one friend eye to eye. “Yes.” And with that he disappeared, leaving Jefferson with a small smile on his face.
Secluded back in his tower, Rumple was putting the final ingredients of the ink together. He had used the same black ink he used in his contracts as a base before one by one adding in the ingredients he had fought so hard for. Phoenix tears for immortality, Mead of Poetry to ensure it was lyrical and well known, sap from Yggdrasil so that every realm would know her story, and Lake Nostos water so that the tale’s origin couldn’t be altered. He had also used some of his own gold thread, melted down and spelled to keep its liquid form for the ‘value’ aspect required. The last thing he added were rose petals, crushed finely into a powder. If ever asked he’d claim the reason for the flowers was to help take away some of the potent smell of the ink, it was definitely not because he knew Belle loved roses. Nope definitely not. A small combination spell later and he had a bottle of golden fairy tale ink for Belle to use. He still didn’t have paper, but he knew that there were alternatives to it. It was time to find Belle and let her know.
Disappearing, he took form again in the library where he expected Belle to be. However, much to his surprise, his little bookworm wasn’t there. He went to her room next, he knew sometimes when it got too cold in the library she’d bring her books back to her chambers to read, but there was no response to his knocks. Flashing out to the stables didn’t find her with the horses she loved so much either. Down in the kitchen there was soup cooking on the stove and bread baking in the oven, but still no Belle. Tired of running around his castle like a madman, Rumple reached out with his magic to find his maid. When the magic located her, he disappeared, letting his magic guide him to her location. He was surprised when he found himself in a familiar room, a very familiar room. It was his bedroom.
Belle was curled up in one of the large wingback chairs near the fireplace with one of her books wrapped up in the blanket he kept at the foot of his bed. She even had the tea service set up on the table next to her. It appeared his maid had made herself quite comfortable in his chambers. She didn’t even look up as he walked towards her, making no effort to muffle the tap of his boots on the stone floor. It wasn’t until he plopped down in the chair across from her that Belle finally looked up.
“Comfortable, Dearie?” Rumple drawled, smirking when Belle blushed.
“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have come in here without your permission, but you were gone for so long, and I got lonely. I only planned on staying for a little bit, but then when I left, I missed you more, so I came back and I guess I just kept coming back…” Belle trailed off, blushing and biting her lip nervously.
Rumple didn’t know what to say to that. He had planned on teasing her about coming in to clean and slacking off, but to find out that she had come in here because she had missed him threw him completely for a loop. He felt his own face heat up, and a tingly warmth spread in his stomach in response to the thought of Belle actually missing him. Quickly he held out the bottle of ink, the fire flashing off the ink, making it look like it was glowing. “I, uh, got the ink for you.” He mumbled.
Belle looked at him, then at the ink, then back at him, and then practically launched herself out of her chair at him. If he had been shocked before it was nothing compared to how he felt when he suddenly had his arms full of Belle. Belle who was soft, and warm, and smelt of roses, and was hugging him. Oh God she was hugging him. She was practically on his lap and her arms were around his neck, and she was telling him thank you over and over. What was he supposed to do? He was the Dark One, he had lived 300 years, he had seen the rise and fall of kings, but in her arms, he was useless. Tentatively he patted her back, and after a few moments she seemed to come to her senses because she quickly scrambled off his lap, her cheeks a lovely rosy red once again.
“Ah… sorry about that. I got a little excited,” Belle said, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Not a problem, Dearie,” he trilled, his words a little too high pitched to sound convincing, even to his own ears.
For a moment, there was silence as they both did their best to not look at each other, while also trying to appear like they weren’t not not looking at each other. Glancing quickly at her, Rumple noticed Belle fiddling with the bottle of ink, the fire catching the gold in it and reflecting it onto her skin. The contrast was striking. Clearing his throat, he gestured to the bottle, “You’ll want to be careful with that, it was hell to make.”
Belle nodded, and tucked the bottle safely into the pocket of her apron. “What about the paper?”
The refocus back on the original subject, Belle’s fairy tale, immediately made him feel more comfortable and he popped up, all flash and bravado once more. “Glad you asked, Dearie!” Rumple trilled, and with a grand wave of his hand, the table that once held the tea service now held the four alternatives to the fairy tale paper.
Belle gasped and ‘ooohed’ over the four new books she apparently hadn’t come across. She picked up the white feathery story about a woman turned into a swan and immediately her brow furrowed. “Rumple are these feathers?” she asked as she traced a finger over it carefully.
“Pegasus feathers to be precise!”
“But why?” Belle set her story down, and looked closer at the other fairy tales he had summoned, noting the difference in the paper. “These aren’t like any fairy tales I’ve ever read, Rumple.”
“Well, it turns out that there are some alternatives to the paper. My guess is these stories were written in lands that didn’t have an abundance of fairies, lucky them, or who didn’t have a good relationship with sanctimonious little jellyfish. Instead of the normal paper, they used other magical substances available to them. We have here pegasus feathers, unicorn hide, selkie pelt, and mermaid leather.” Rumple explained.
“You mean, any of these can be used to write fairy tales?” Belle asked frowning slightly.
“Yes. So what shall it be, Dearie!” Rumple asked, clapping his hands together.
“Do you actually have any of these on hand, Rumple?”
“Well, no. But it shouldn’t be hard to get them. After all, they all live right here in the Enchanted Forest. You tell me what you fancy, I’ll pop out, get it and be back before you know it. You can write your little story and I can get back to work.” Yup work, that’s why he was doing this. He wanted to get back to his normal work. Not because it would make her happy.
Belle frowned again, studying the four stories in front of her before speaking, “Rumple, how do you get unicorn hide?”
Rumple frowned slightly, not understanding the point of the question. “Well, by killing a unicorn, of course.”
“Rumple, it’s illegal to kill a unicorn. Not only is it illegal, but to hurt something so pure would destroy your soul. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
Touched that she thought he had a soul, let alone one worth preserving, had him heating up again, but he tried to ignore it. “Fine, fine, no unicorn. There’s three other options.”
Belle picked up the tale written on the spotted grey selkie pelt and turned it over in her hands. “Rumple what happens to the woman if you use her pelt in a potion or spell?”
“Well, I suppose they’d be stuck on land, they wouldn’t be able to go back home in the sea.” Rumple answered, getting a sneaking suspicion as to where this was all going.
Belle frowned and placed the book back down. “I won’t force someone away from their love and home.”
“Very well, what about one of the other two?”
Once again Belle picked up the feathery tale, a concentrated look on her face. “Rumple, how many feathers did it take to make these pages would you say?”
Frowning Rumple responded, “I’m not sure, probably a thousand or so?”
“In other words most, if not all, of that poor animal’s feather’s. Pegasuses are supposed to fly, I can’t be responsible for grounding one.”
Sighing heavily, Rumple felt a headache coming on. “Yes, understandable, Dear. What about the mermaid leather? Before you ask, no, you don’t have to kill them to get it. They can survive perfectly fine without their scales.”
Belle eyed him warily. “They’d live?”
“Yes, you have my word”
“And there’d be no pain?”
“Well…”
“Rumple! I can’t do that! It’d be akin to torture!”
“Belle! You just eliminated all your choices,” Rumple explained exasperatedly.
“I’m sorry Rumple but I can’t in good conscience go ahead, knowing that some poor creature or being was killed, or made miserable just so I could be happy. I won’t do it. There has to be another way, some way that doesn’t hurt anyone,” Belle stated adamantly.
“There isn’t!” Rumple told her.
“There has to be,” Belle said again, emphasizing wildly with her arms and for a moment the glow of the fire made them look golden.
Rumple’s mind was immediately drawn to the fifth alternative he had found, the one even he had been repulsed by. It went against everything in him to show it to Belle, but maybe if she saw this was the only other alternative, she’d see that the other options weren’t so bad. Frowning heavily he waved his hand, and in a plume of purple smoke summoned up the black book he had banished before. “Here’s your alternative.”
Belle regarded him and then took the book cautiously. She was still looking at him when she opened the book. He gave her small nod, and she finally looked down at the book in her hand. The pages were pale peach and smooth to the touch, the gold writing glittered beautifully against it. Belle’s brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle out what exactly the material was. He knew the second she figured it out as the book hit the floor with a thud.
“Is that skin?”
“Virgin skin can be used in a multitude of spells and rituals. It’s not a surprise it can be used for this too.” Rumple explained, just as disgusted as she was. Human sacrifice, especially that of virgins, had been used in dark magic since it’s conception, but for it to be used for fairy tales, something so rooted in light magic, just seemed wrong.
Belle was staring at the book where it had landed on the floor, looking as if she was going to be sick. Without a moment’s thought, he banished the book back to his vault where it belonged. Taking Belle by the arm, he led her back over to the chair she had been sitting in when he’d first found her in his room. After a few minutes of him rubbing soothing circles on her back and instructing her to take deep breaths, color had returned to Belle’s face, and she no longer looked as if she was in danger of being sick. “Are you okay, Belle?”
“How, how could anyone do that? To kill an innocent woman just so you can write a fairy tale, it goes against the very essence of them! How could anyone allow this to happen? It’s sick!” Belle ranted and fumed.
Rumple knelt silently by her side, letting her get all her rage out before speaking. “Well strictly speaking, from a magical standpoint, your ‘innocent woman’ would have had to consent or else the ink wouldn’t have taken.”
Belle looked at him with disgust in her eyes. “You mean that the woman knew they would kill her, and skin her, and she was okay with it? No one would ever consent to that!”
“No, of course not, more than likely she had been told the tale would be written on her while she was still alive.” Rumple realized the mistake he made as soon as he spoke, but it was too late.
Belle’s eyes lit up with the passion from before, and a smile appeared on her face. “You mean, that a fairy tale could be written on virgin skin, my skin for example, while the subject was still alive?”
“Well it’s obviously never been tested, and should never be, but it is logical to assume that it is possible that that particular situation might succeed if it was tested, which of course it won’t be.” Rumple rambled. Hoping, praying, that Belle wasn’t going to ask what he thought she would.
“Rumple, that’s what I choose!”
Of course he never had been very lucky. Groaning, Rumple started pacing the room. He should have seen this coming. Belle would never choose something as an option if it meant someone, or something else would suffer for it. But she couldn’t truly think this was an option. “Belle, be reasonable. You can’t write a fairytale on your skin,” he tried to explain.
“And why not?” Belle countered, already he could see the stubbornness setting in.
“For one, how exactly do you propose you will write it on yourself? Start on your toes and work your way up?” He hoped that if he pointed out how silly her plan was that she’d see the light.
“Of course not, Rumple.” She rolled her eyes as if his suggestion was the silly one despite the fact she was the one who was actually considering this. “It’d be on my back, I suppose you’d be the one who’d have to write it in that case.”
Him write it. Him write it on her back. On the skin of her back. Her naked back… He was going to have an aneurysm. Rumple raked his hands through his hair as he paced around the room. She couldn’t honestly think he could do this. “Belle. You can’t be serious.”
Belle crossed her arms over her chest, and fixed him with a steely gaze. “And why can’t I? You were all for me doing this when it would involve the slaughter and pain of innocent creatures, but now when it would hurt no one except possibly me, you are against it? Why?”
She was right, it wouldn’t hurt anyone but her, but it would hurt her in the worst way. The cost of magic would be too much for her. “Belle, you don’t understand. Fairy tales last forever. If you were to become part of the fairy tale, the paper in this case, you would never age, you would never die. You would be immortal. Not only would you be immortal, you would also be nigh indestructible. Do you understand how coveted you would be? How many people would seek to use you to their advantage. You would need someone there to protect you constantly.”
Belle frowned, finally seeming to grasp the seriousness of the situation, and, for a brief moment, Rumple thought he had won this battle. When Belle rose from her chair to join him by the fire, he watched her carefully, once more the fire flashed golden across her skin and it was all too easy to picture golden writing looping across her pale white skin. Then she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and he knew he was in trouble. “I want this, Rumple. I understand the risks and I want it still.”
“Belle, think really hard on this. As soon as that ink is in your skin, there’s no going back. It’s forever. ”
A small smile played upon her lips, “I already promised you forever once, Rumple, I’m willing to do it again.”
In the end, Belle agreed to take a week to think on the matter, and decided if it was something she was truly willing to go through with. Rumple had insisted on the matter and she knew part of the reason was he was hoping that she’d back out of the situation, but the main reason was so that he could adjust to the idea of what he would have to do.
She knew he was against the situation, something he had no problem expressing, but she wasn’t sure exactly why. She didn’t know if it was because he didn’t want the burden of having to ‘protect’ her afterwards or because he was truly worried about her. If it was a matter of protecting her then she’d understand, and wouldn’t force that upon him. Afterall, when he had bargained for her, he had only planned for a simple caretaker not a living, breathing, walking, fairy tale. She’d feel safest with Rumple around, but if he didn’t want her then she’d take her chances on her own.
If, however, he didn’t want her to do this because he was worried for her, and the danger she could be in because of it, then it was a different matter entirely. She had questioned Rumple briefly that first night by what he meant by ‘nigh invincible’ and getting answers from him was like trying to pry sweets from a child, hard and with lots of bickering. Eventually she got a few details, she’d be able to survive things such as dragon fire, freezing, and being stabbed, due to the phoenix tears and lake nostos attributes embedded in the ink. The only problem was that while she would heal from any wound, it could still take days, weeks, or even months depending on the severity and she’d feel every ounce of pain. A dragon could fry her to a crisp and she’d survive, but the pain she’d endure in healing would make her beg for death. And while her skin would never die, her mind and body could under extreme circumstances, not even phoenix tears could regrow a head or heart. If someone found out about her, she could easily be used as a weapon. It’d be all too easy to turn her into a buyable pawn for kings and generals to use in their wars.
She had to admit to herself that his words that night had given her a slight pause and she had briefly wondered if she was making a mistake, but then her mum’s words had rung back in her mind. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow. If she wanted to make a change in the world and this was the only way to do it, then she was going to have that ink on her back if she had to do it herself.
She knew that if Rumple did refuse to help her and protect her,she could still find alternatives. Jefferson had become like a brother to her, and if she went to him she was sure she could convince him to help her. He’d joke and tease her the entire time he was writing on her back while all the time telling her not to laugh. Afterwards he’d whisk her off to one of the many realms in his hat to keep her safe. She could go back to Narnia if she wanted, after all it was only Rumple that Aslan had taken issue to. The dark haired queen, Sarah or Susan something like that, had said that she was welcome back though. Every few years she’d have to change realms to hide the fact that she wasn’t aging but she had always wanted to see the world, that could be her chance. And if Jefferson didn’t want to transport her here and there, she could always go to the fairies. She knew that Rumple didn’t trust them, but they couldn’t be that bad, they were fairies after all. She was sure they would take her in and protect her. It’d be a sheltered life, hidden away and constantly watched, but she’d be safe. Yes, there were alternatives, but she didn’t want any of them. She wanted Rumple.
From the moment Rumple had told her this could be done while the person was still alive, she couldn’t help but envision him doing the writing. She could practically feel those long spinner’s fingers mapping out the skin of her back, tracing where the words would go, adding the little twirls and embellishments he was so fond of. If she was in a particular day-dreamy mood she would even imagine him pressing feather light kisses to her spine as he worked. Yes, if anyone was going to do this, it had to be someone she trusted, someone she loved. It had to be Rumplestiltskin.
She didn’t know when she had fallen in love with him, there was no day she could look back on and say “that’s it, that’s when I knew I loved him.” It had started out with a fondness for those little quirks of his, like the way he put on a show for everyone else, but dropped it around her. Then came the small things he’d started doing for her, exotic candies he thought she might like, rare flowers showing up in the gardens, her favorite horse from Avonlea suddenly being in the stables, and of course building her a library. Hundreds of little things built up over time, ending in the feeling of overwhelming love.
She was sure he cared for her too, not necessarily loved, but at least cared deeply. There was no way he would have gone to all the trouble if he didn’t care for her. There was no way if she was just a maid to him that he’d allow her to take such liberties as she did. Truth be told, they both knew that she hadn’t been much of a maid here. Yes she’d go around and dust his trinkets and treasures occasionally, but she was here because he was lonely. Jefferson once told her Rumple used to go on ‘business trips’ that would last two to three weeks just to escape being cooped up in the castle all by himself, now he was seldom gone longer than two to three days. Yes he cared for her, maybe even loved her too.
If Rumple was right, and he usually was, and she did become immortal there was no one she’d rather spend the rest of forever with than him. Fairy tales so often spoke of true love and the magic it brought, if Belle couldn’t enjoy this fairy tale with the man she loved then it wasn’t worth it. Her decision was made, she would only go through with the fairy tale if Rumple was willing to help her.
Mind made up, she went to find Rumple to let him know. During the week he had given her to think everything through, she had barely seen him. She knew he had holed himself up in his tower again, because she would occasionally hear the booms and pops she associated with his potion making. He had made appearances once or twice, just long enough to pluck hair from her head or ask her a random question and then he was back to his tower. He hadn't come to eat or take tea with her even when she made his favorite foods and broke out the tea she knew he prefered. Even though he didn't need to eat or drink to survive, it still worried her when he went without them for prolonged periods of time.
When she reached his tower, she was surprised to find the door unlocked. Usually when he was in one of these moods, he had the door locked and warded so that she couldn’t interrupt him or stumble in and get hurt. Pushing the door open slightly, she peered in, shocked at the sight. Rumple was scrambling about the tower, throwing things into his cauldron, looking manic. Nearly every flat surface was covered with potions of different shapes of sizes. Books in languages she didn’t understand floated midair and occasionally Rumple would glance at them before running off in another direction to grab some new ingredient. It was a complete mad house.
Belle pushed into the room, stumbling over discarded books, to make her way towards Rumple. “What is all of this?” she asked.
Rumple barely cast her a glance as he bottled up another potion with a frown. “Potions. Lots of potions,” he mumbled as he cleaned out the cauldron in preparation for a new potion.
“Well I guessed as much, but what for?”
Rumple didn’t answer her, instead he grabbed a mortar and pestle and started crushing up something. After a moment he charmed the pestle to work by itself and then he was off again, running around, grabbing ingredients seemingly randomly.
“Rumple…” No response.
“Rumple?” Nothing.
“Rumple!” Still no response as the mad sorcerer ran about. Finally Belle placed herself in his direct line of motion, he’d either have to stop and face her, or mow her over. The latter nearly happened, but at the last moment Rumple came to a stop, looking confused as if he’d already forgotten she was there.
“Belle? What are you doing?” Even as he spoke, he was distracted, he wasn't looking at her, but instead around her at his cauldron, and if he could have gotten away with physically moving her out of the way, she was sure he would have done so.
“I think the better question is what are you doing? What are all these potions for? I've never seen so many!”
Rumple waved a casual hand as if to play off her question. “Nothing you need to worry about, dearie. Now, why don't you run along and read or whatever else it is you do when you're supposed to be cleaning”
He stepped around her and went back to his cauldron, once more falling into the frenzy she had witnessed. Determined for a real answer, she marched up to him and snatched away the ingredient he had been reaching for. It was slightly amusing to watch him grasp at the air in confusion before he looked around and spotted her with it.
“Belle, give that back.” Rumple reached for the bottle of whatever she had, but she stepped back out of his reach.
“Not until you tell me what all these potions are for,” Belle said as she continued to avoid Rumple’s attempts to take back the bottle. Each time he lunged forward she danced back, the bottle tightly gripped in her hand.
She might have been successful in her keep away if she hadn’t tripped over one of the books strewn about the floor. She tried to stop her descent to floor by reaching out and regaining her balance with the help of the table, but all she did was manage to knock a potion over and spill it on herself. She was on track to meet a hard end with the floor, but at the last moment a swirl of blue smoke enveloped her and she found herself upright next to Rumple. Once steadied, she looked over to Rumple, ready to thank him, but he was staring at her with a small smile, that’s when she realized that he hadn’t been the one to set her right, the potion she had spilt did.
“Rumple, what are these potions for?” Belle asked again. She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew, but she wanted him to admit it.
Rumple stared at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to brush her off again, but finally he gave a small sigh and a shrug. “They’re protection potions.”
She was right, it didn’t explain why he had made so many though. “And you decided to make enough to ward off an entire country why?”
Like always, whenever she got too close to an answer, too close to him, his walls went up and his facade came back. That fake, over the top persona came out, and with a manic giggle he was once again ‘Rumplestiltskin The Showman.’ “None of your business dearie! Now run along! Go clean before I turn you into a lovely little hoptoad or some other beastie.” Rumple trilled, snatching away the bottle he had been desiring before, once more dismissing her.
Unfortunately for him, Belle wasn’t going to be dismissed so easily. He had grabbed back the bottle she’d used as leverage, so instead she snatched up a reddish orange bottle which looked as though it contained liquid fire. “Rumplestiltskin, tell me why you need all these potions.”
Rumple glanced back at her, ready to brush her off again, but froze when he realized what she had in her hand. “Belle, put that down.”
“Not until you answer my question.”
“Belle please, you could get hurt. Put it down.” He edged closer to her, slowly though as if he was afraid that if he made a sudden move she’d throw the potion at him.
“Tell me why you need all these potions!”
“I told you! Protection, now put the potion down.” He once again inched forward, his eyes on the potion.
“Protection for who?”
“None of your business.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me!”
“Don’t worry!”
Belle uncapped the potion and watched as he froze again. It was an empty threat, she’d never truly hurt him, especially with this potion he seemed so worried about, but if it got him to answer then she wouldn’t feel too bad about it. “Tell me!”
“They’re for you! They’re to keep you safe.They’re all for you!” Rumple shouted, the sound echoing in the tower.
Belle nearly dropped the potion but Rumple quickly darted forward and took it from her. Once it was recapped he vanished it and the rest of the potions leaving the tower feeling much emptier. Rumple wasn’t looking at her, he was standing over his work table with his hair hiding his face so she couldn’t get a read on his emotions, but she could take a guess that he wasn’t happy.
Belle walked over and placed her hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t even react. “Rumple, why do you think you need all those potions to protect me?”
“Because once you get that story on your back I won’t be able to protect you. So I have to help you protect yourself.”
Belle frowned slightly and pushed back his hair so she could look at his face. “What makes you think you can’t protect me?”
“I’ve never been able to protect the ones I love. I couldn’t protect Bae, and I won’t be able to protect you.”
Belle froze at his words and a moment later Rumple seemed to realize what he had let slip, but it was too late. He looked up at her with fear in his eyes and appeared to wait for her rejection. A small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, and any earlier annoyance with him disappeared. “You love me?”
“Uhm. What I meant to say is…” Rumple started, but was quickly cut off when Belle practically pounced at him. Her arms twined around his neck as she pulled him down to kiss him. He didn’t react at first, shocked not only by her brashness, but also by the fact she didn’t seem disgusted that he was in love with her. Only when Belle began to pull away did he respond and chase after her with a kiss of his own.
When they finally broke apart, Belle smiled shyly up at Rumple. “I love you too.”
It took some, okay a lot, of convincing before Rumple finally believed that Belle trusted that if they went through with fairy tale that he could protect her. Once that was finally settled Belle explained to him her decision of taking his opinion into consideration. He hadn’t been happy about that, but once she explained her reasoning he had been more understanding. While Rumple still wasn’t fond of the idea, he wasn’t going to stop her from doing this, and in the end he agreed to write the fairy tale on her back as she narrated it to him.
That’s how Belle found herself in Rumple’s bathroom in his rarely worn silk robe, staring at her reflection in the gazing pool. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was piled up on top of her head, secured by two golden chopsticks that Rumple had produced. She had just finished with a near scalding bath, and was gathering up her courage to go out to where Rumple was waiting for her. He had been the one to suggest she take the bath, not only to get ready, but also to relax because it was going to be a long night. She had thoroughly enjoyed soaking in the bath, Rumple had filled it with bubbles, which was a luxury she hadn’t had in years, but now nerves were starting to creep up on her.
She wasn’t nervous so much about the story part, but realization that she was going to be naked from, at least, the waist up while laying in the bed of the man she loved. Since they had confessed their love, the farthest her and Rumple had gone were some heated kisses, but this was a whole other level. She trusted Rumple with her life, something she was literally going to have to do from now on, but this would still be the first time anyone would see her this exposed. What if he didn’t find her attractive? What if things went too fast? What if...
“Belle, is everything okay?” Rumple called from the other side of the door, interrupting her train of thought.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Belle responded. Gathering up all of her courage, she pulled the robe together a bit tighter, and then joined her Rumple in the bedroom. The room was filled with light, from the roaring fire Rumple’s magic kept going, to the hundreds of candles that now littered the room. Nearly every flat surface was covered with candles, some even floated in the air, giving the room an ethereal sort of glow.
Rumple was standing near the bed and gave her a small smile when he saw her and immediately she went over to him. He cupped her face, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. “You know we don’t have to do this tonight, right? We can wait as long as you want.”
Belle nodded, he might be the one doing all the work, but she held all the power in this situation. “I know, but I want this. I don’t want to wait.”
Only the slightest tightening in Rumple’s face betrayed his own feelings towards this but still he nodded. “Okay, but if you want to stop at any time just say the word. I won’t make you do this.”
“I know.” Belle gave a small smile, even though he hated the idea of her doing this, he wasn’t trying to influence her decision one way or the other. He trusted her to know her own mind and body, and what she wanted. No one else in her life had ever done that.
“Alright, you can, uh, get comfortable.” His eyes darted over to the bed, and she could have sworn his cheeks darkened in a blush. Belle bit her lip nervously and nodded, slipping from his arms to move over to the bed. Once at its side she fingered the tie on her robe, glancing over her shoulder she found Rumple still watching her. Once caught, he smiled sheepishly and ruffled his hair in a nervous gesture. “Sorry. I’ll just…” he waved his hand and started to turn around, but Belle spoke up.
“Don’t.” Belle was proud of the fact that, despite her nerves, her voice remained steady. Rumple met her gaze steadily, and after a brief moment he nodded. Belle once again pulled at the ties of the robe, letting it gape open until she was able to slip it off her shoulders and have it pool at her waist. After a moment’s thought she threw caution to the wind and with a shift of her hips the silk fell to the floor, leaving her completely bare to his eyes.
Rumple’s eyes roved over her figure, his mouth dropping slightly, and Belle couldn’t help but blush at the intensity of his gaze. Hesitantly, he walked over until he was once again standing next to her and placed his hands on the bare skin of her waist. Slowly he slid his hands up her waist, smoothing over her sides, fingers tracing along the underside of her breasts, until he once again cupped her face in his hands. “You’re beautiful. Much too beautiful for a monster like me.”
Belle mirrored his actions, cupping his face, and pulled him down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Never think that. I love you Rumple, and I could never love a monster. I could never trust a monster with something like this, but I trust you. I trust you with my body and soul. You’re no monster.”
A shudder went through him and suddenly he was kissing her harder than she had ever been kissed before. Her fingers found their way into his hair to pull him closer, but when the brocade of his vest made contact with her chest she was reminded of the fact that she was still very, very, naked. With a stifled ‘meep’, Belle pulled away and blushed heavily. There were still some things she wasn’t ready for, and this would definitely lead to them.
Rumple took a step back with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I went too far.”
“It’s okay, really, I’m just not ready for that,” Belle explained, finding it hard to be nonchalant while her bits were on display.
Rumple nodded, stepping back to give her some space. “I understand. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Belle smiled, giving him a quick chaste kiss before slipping onto the bed. She took a moment to appreciate how comfortable the bed was, and how nice the silk felt slipping over her skin as she made herself ready. She settled down on the left side of the bed, the side she could tell Rumple favored, laying on her stomach. She folded her arms under his pillow, pulling it close so she rested upon it, occasionally catching whiffs of that sandalwood and magic smell she associated with Rumple.
Rumple came around to the side of the bed, and pulled the bedsheet up to cover her lower half before sitting by her side. A twist of his hand brought forth the bottle of golden ink that would soon be covering her back and a blue feather quill pen. He broke the seal on the ink and the subtle scent of roses tickled Belle’s nose.
“Is that roses?” Belle asked. When Rumple nodded, she smiled up at him. “I love roses.” Rumple mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I know’, but didn’t comment further on the subject.
Belle watched as he dipped the pen in the ink and tested a drop of it on the skin of his thumb. At first it didn’t appear to do anything more than drip off like any other ink would, but a moment later it appeared his thumb was smoking. Rumple didn’t seem to be in any pain, but he didn’t look happy about the result either. “Well that answers that question. You still want to do this?”
Belle knew that Rumple’s test would have put off most people, but she had never been most people. “Yes.”
“I can’t guarantee there won’t be pain,” he warned her.
“I know, but it’s worth it.”
Rumple frowned, but nodded. He ran his over the smooth expanse of her naked back, moving any stray curls which might have fallen from her bun, and causing goosebumps to form in its wake. “Alright, when you’re ready.”
Rumple had been asking her for a while now what her fairy tale was going to be, but she had refused to tell him knowing that he’d try and talk her out of it. There was no going back now though. Belle cleared her throat and began, “Once upon a time…”
“You know you don’t have to start with that?” Rumple interrupted, the quill poised above her back.
“Yes I know, but I want to. This is my story. More writing, less judging,” Belle shot back. She could just see Rumple smirking out of the corner of her eye as he leaned over to place the quill to her back. “Like I was saying, once upon a time, there was a princess in a small kingdom. She loved her people dearly, but always dreamed of adventure.”
She was aware of the very second the ink touched her skin, it didn’t hurt per se but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling either. It felt almost as if someone was dragging the sharp end of a needle against her skin. Not painful at first, but the more it was done the more bothersome it got. She could tell Rumple was waiting for her to react or ask him to stop, but she wasn’t going to, there was no going back now.
“The princess was bound by duty, though, and so was never able to fulfil her dreams. She played the role that was expected of her. She was a proper princess who played host to dignitaries and other royalty, helped keep the people’s hopes high in times of dismay, and even agreed to a political marriage to a man she didn’t love in order to best protect her home.”
“Sounds a little sad for a fairy tale don’t you think, love?” Rumple asked, the quill poised above her skin.
“Just trust me Rumple,” Belle assured him. She waited for him to catch up before she continued. “However before the wedding could take place, the princess’ home was attacked by ogres. The king and his knights tried their hardest, but were no match for the monsters, but the princess had read of a man who could save them from the ogres. A man called The Dark One.”
Belle felt Rumple freeze next to her, the pen coming to a stand-still on her back as realization sunk in. “Belle, what…”
“Shh. Just keep writing.” Belle smiled up at him. “The Dark One came to their kingdom and agreed to save them from the ogres, for a price. The princess’ father, a good king but foolish, agreed to anything. He never expected the Dark One would insist on the princess as his price. The king loved his daughter and therefore refused, but the princess knew this was the only way to save her kingdom, so she agreed. She said her goodbyes to her father and her betrothed and went with him, forever.
“At first the Dark One did his best to frighten the princess, but she never was scared of him. She saw him for what he really was, a lonely man desperate for company, but afraid and unsure of how to show it. Soon the Dark One stopped trying to scare his princess, and friendship formed between the two. The Dark One would never admit that he cared for his princess, but she knew the truth, and she cared for him too.
“One day the princess asked for the Dark One’s help in writing a fairy tale, and after much teasing and talk, he agreed because he had never been able to refuse his princess anything. The process turned out to be more complicated than either had imagined, but during their argument the two of them realized just how deep their feelings ran for each other. The Dark One didn’t want his love to do something so potentially dangerous, but the princess would do anything to remain with him. She trusted him with her life and her love, and so she put her trust in him. Together they crafted the tale of the princess and her Dark One.”
She felt Rumple finish the last of the story with a flourish near the base of her spine. He then set the ink and quill aside and conjured up a bottle of some pink ointment which she had seen him use before on minor cuts and scrapes he didn’t deam worth the cost of magic. “This should help speed up the healing but not interfere with the magic in the ink,” he explained as he uncorked the bottle and poured some on his hands.
There was no complaint from Belle as he started massaging the ointment into her back. The relief was immediate, the slight annoyance which had started when Rumple began writing, had grown to a burning pain towards the end, but the ointment was like water being poured on a fire. It instantly cooled her skin down. It also didn’t hurt that his hands felt like heaven as they rubbed away any tension that had built up in her back. She didn’t know if it was because of the ink and magic, or just because Rumple was touching her, but her back felt extra sensitive and each press of his hands sent shivers down her spine.
When he took his hands away, she groaned in disapproval. “Just five more minutes?” Belle teased, casting a smile over her shoulder. Rumple smiled and shook his head, holding his hand out for her to take.
“Don’t you want to see how it looks?” He asked.
Belle had to cave into that, as much as she’d love to lay in bed with Rumple massaging her back, she was curious to see how the tale had turned out. She took his proffered hand, and let him help her to her feet. Once standing he took one last look at her nude form with a longing smile before snapping his fingers. Blue smoke enveloped her form from the neck down, leaving a black silk dress in it’s wake. The dress itself would have been nothing special if it hadn’t been practically completely backless, a feature that she had a feeling Rumple was going to come to favor.
Rumple wrapped his arm around her waist and led her over to the basin of water he kept in the corner of the room. A wave of his hand the water jumped out of the basin and formed a freestanding mirror. At first, their reflection was wavy and distorted but another gesture had it looking crystal clear, a mirror without the chance of someone watching them. When Belle first saw her reflection in the water, she almost didn’t recognize herself. She was dressed up like the princess she once was but in the dark colors which her true love favored. For the first time, she honestly looked like the Lady of the Dark Castle, and the thought warmed her heart.
She let Rumple turn her so her back faced the water-mirror and she could peer over her shoulder to see the reflection. The golden tale, in Rumple’s elegant handwriting, stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin, and in the light of the fire it almost glowed. It was a little hard to read it in the mirror, but she did so anyways, enraptured with how well it came out. At the very end though she came to a pause. She hadn’t said that. “Rumple what’s that last line say?”
Rumple grinned sheepishly, and traced along the bottom of the line, “Together they crafted the tale of the princess and her Dark One. And they lived happily ever after, the beauty and her beast.” He looked at her, as if waiting for her to get upset at his addition, but she couldn’t. It was a perfect ending.
My second rumbelle secret santa fic is for munkinette. Her prompt was: hands, tickle, warmth, frosted windows
This fic is very, super fluffy with a little bit of smut. I hope you like it, munki!
In the Gold residence, the halls were decked with holly, ribbon, twinkly lights, and everything else that screamed “Merry Christmas!” in as loud a color as possible. The madness didn’t stop with the halls, but spilled out into the front yard with a wreath on the door, lights circling around the trees, and a particularly ridiculous looking light-up snowman designed to look like it was waving at the passerby. The crowning jewel of it all was the tree trussed up in the middle of the living room, circled with ribbons, multi-colored lights, so much tinsel it was hard to find any greenery, and topped with a blinking star.
Gold wasn’t entirely sure how he got talked into decorating so much for Christmas, but he supposed it was Belle’s blue-eyed smile that could not be refused. Added to that was Bae’s own “can we do it, please, please, please,” look and it had him carefully hanging stockings over the fireplace.
Now it was Christmas Eve and they could properly enjoy their hard work, though Gold would never admit to being pleased by it all, he did have a reputation to maintain in this town.
Bae was as cheerful as Tiny Tim on Christmas, a much better portrait than last year. He was eager to watch any and all Christmas movies on TV and had enjoyed making a batch of cookies for Santa, especially when he got to lick the bowl clean. This was how every seven year old boy should be on Christmas, not the dour, quiet child he was last year.
It was Belle he had to thank for all of this. She was sitting there in the living room, basking in the warmth of the crackling fire, singing along to the Christmas songs she had playing in the background while Bae was writing his letter to Santa. When Milah had up and left them last year, a week before Christmas, Gold had assumed this year would be as jolly and merry as last year’s dismal affair. Worse, that his son would forever associate Christmas with his mother abandoning him. He couldn’t have predicted Belle coming along to save them both from such a lonely year.
“Should I remind Santa what I want for Christmas?” Bae asked.
“I don’t think so,” Belle told him, “Be sure to thank him for all of the presents and promise to be a good boy next year.”
“Okay, Aunt Belle,” he said before cheerfully returning to his letter, scribbling on the page with red crayon. “Aunt Belle, did you and Papa remember to give your letters to Santa? I don’t want you to be forgotten.”
“Oh don’t worry, sweetie, he won’t forget us.” Belle gave Gold a little wink before going to the mantle to adjust Buddy, the Elf on the Shelf she had insisted they buy. “Be sure to say good bye to Buddy before you go to bed, you know he’ll be back at the North Pole in the morning.”
“Do you think he’ll miss me?” Bae asked. His tiny voice held a slight tremor of fear that cut straight to his father. God, he was thinking of his mother. He knew he should have sent Bae a card pretending it was from Milah, something to cheer the boy up so he could forget that his mother had left them because she was tired of playing mommy and especially hated playing wife to a cripple.
“Oh, honey, of course he will,” Belle said and the reached down to scoop Bae into a hug, “I bet he’ll keep count of the day until December when he can come back and play with you again.”
“I liked it when he turned the milk green, didn’t you Papa?”
“Oh yes,” Gold told his son, “It was especially appetizing having green milk in my cereal.”
Belle couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I liked it when he toilet papered the tree.”
“As long as it wasn’t my office,” Gold replied, remembering her threat when’s he broke out the toilet paper two weeks ago.
She giggled again before spying the clock. “Well, I think it’s about bedtime for one little boy here, now who could that be?”
Bae shook his head. “I’m not sleepy.”
“If you don’t go to sleepy, then Santa won’t come and give you your presents.”
“I’m still not sleepy.”
“Then I suppose I have no choice,” Belle said, a sly smile on her pretty face, “I’ll have to tickle you to sleep.”
“No! No! No!” Bae shrieked with delight as she descended upon him and mercilessly began to tickle his sides and tummy. “Papa, help!” he shouted.
“Every man for himself, son,” he replied.
Bae continued to laugh and squirm while Belle continued to tickle him until they were both gasping for breath. “Now, let’s go upstairs and I’ll tuck you in,” Belle said.
“Will you read me a story?”
“Of course.” Belle looked back at Gold, mischief twinkling in her eye, “If Santa comes, be sure to tell him Bae is asleep.”
“I will deliver the message,” he said. He smiled as Belle chased Bae up the stairs to brush his teeth and tuck him into bed.
With his son occupied, he retreated to the basement and began to gather the presents he and Belle had stashed away under there. Thankfully, Belle had already wrapped everything so it was only a matter of putting it all under the tree. Of course most of the gifts were for Bae, but he’d managed to sneak in a few for Belle that she didn’t know about.
He could never thank her enough for what she’d done for them. Once word got around that Milah had abandoned them, Belle had hoped on the next plane from Boston to help them out. She didn’t have to do any of that, she was only Milah’s stepsister and they weren’t very close to begin with. She was a few years younger than his ex-wife, still a gangly teenager when they’d been married. Now she was a woman full grown, finished with grad school and employed as the town’s librarian. He doubted such a job was what she’d intended for herself, but she’d never complained.
Gold had thought he would tire of her after a few weeks, once he got the rhythm of being a single father he would gently find a way to tell her to leave. That never happened. He found his rhythm, sure, but the idea of sending her away formed a pit in his stomach. Seeing Belle here, having her have tickle fights with Bae, cutting the crusts off of his peanut butter sandwiches, and helping him decorate the gingerbread cookies…she was the kind of mother his son had always needed.
It was more than what she did for Bae, but what she did for him as well. At the beginning, his marriage to Milah had been happy, but now he knew it was all a façade. They had gone through the motions, thought that it would be enough, but once he’d had his accident they had both transformed. Milah had been stuck with a crippled husband that she had to take care of and try to nurse back to health, not her specialty. Meanwhile, he’d resented the fact that he was not dependent upon a cane and was restricted in things he could never do again because of it. They had thought having children would save their crumbling marriage, but their foundation had been weak to begin with, he saw that now.
He couldn’t blame Milah for leaving him. What love they had, if it had ever been real, had long since shriveled up and blown away like leaves in the Fall. He could never forgive her for leaving their son. That was another matter entirely.
Belle came bouncing down the stairs, still grinning. He had never seen her without a smile on her face. “Oh, you started without me,” she said.
“I thought I’d get a head start. There is still a few more things in the basement.”
“Okay, I’ll get them, you rest your knee.”
“It’s—.”
“I know what those stairs do to you and by the looks of things you must have taken at least three trips in rapid succession.”
It was four actually, but she didn’t need to know that. There would be no talking her out of this. Perhaps Belle and Milah weren’t related by blood, but they were both stubborn. While Milah was stubborn to a fault, Belle was stubborn when it came to those she cared about. How he had wound up on that list he had no idea.
Belle carted up the last of the presents while he set to work on a little nightcap for them both. The basement door was open in the kitchen so he could observe as Belle trudged up the stairs with the final present for Bae: a new bicycle.
“Damn this is heavy,” Belle said.
“Do you need any help?”
“No, I’ve got it. What are you making?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Well look who’s finally gotten into the Christmas spirit,” she said.
“Dragged into it more like,” he replied.
Belle only laughed before she carted the bike into the living room to set it up by the tree. “Where are the decorations I bought?” she called back to him.
“In the coat closet.”
“Thanks.”
Gold listened to her humming the words to “Santa Baby” as she busied herself with her task like the Christmas elf she seemed to embody. It was never like this with Milah or any woman he’d ever been with. Never this easy, this cheerful, so…happy. By God, he really was happy. He had a son who he adored and he had Belle who he…
He nearly scalded himself with boiling water. He couldn’t be…could he? That was ridiculous. Belle was family. Perhaps not by blood, but surely he couldn’t…
“Ian?” Belle called out to him, “Everything okay?”
“Yes, fine,” he replied, quickly returning his preparations though his hands shook a little. How could this have happened? Well, that was actually easy to answer. Belle was so wonderful, so bright and cheerful, not to mention exceedingly beautiful. But more than that, she was the kind of mother Bae had always deserved. It had been so easy for her to slip into their lives, being a mother to his son. She even extended her loving hand to Gold on occasion, stopping by for lunch every day at his shop and cooking him his favorite foods for his birthday two months ago. Really, there had been not hope for him. Of course he’d fallen in love with her, it would have been impossible not to.
Somehow, privately admitting it and understanding why he hadn’t stood a chance soothed him. He loved Belle. Even if it was impossible that she could ever love him, at least he knew how it really felt to love someone besides his wonderful boy.
He poured the steaming brew into two mugs and carried them into the living room, ignoring the pain in his leg from walking without the use of his cane. He left the kitchen and walked into Santa’s Workshop.
Apparently Belle wasn’t done decorating yet. She was carefully taping red and green streamers all around the room, winding them around the banister and letting them curl above the archway from the staircase. “Santa has been busy,” he said.
Belle giggled while she finished unrolling a streamer. “I thought it would add a nice touch. Plus I figured that since you didn’t kill me when I frosted the windows, you would let me get away with this.”
“I don’t think I could stop you if I tried.” Nor did he want to. Oh he may have put up a fuss when she decorated the yard and sprayed the windows with this paint like product designed to make it look like the windows were frosted with snow. After she’d assured him that it would wash off easily enough, he had relented and silently admired her handiwork.
Belle finished the last streamer and smiled at her handiwork. “You think Bae will like it?”
“I know he’ll love it,” Gold told her. He slipped one of the warm mugs into her hands. “Here, you’ve earned this.”
Belle took a tiny sip. “Mm, that’s good. What is it?”
“Hot buttered rum.”
A wide grin broke across her face and she swatted at his chest with her free hand. “You did this all by yourself? Guess Cindy Lou Who finally talked some sense into you.”
Gold shook his head. “No, just you.”
Belle’s cheeks pinked and she looked down into her mug. That was just another thing he loved about her, how modest she was.
They took a seat on the couch, sipping at their hot buttered rum in front of the fire. This was nice. The warmth of the hot liquor, the fire, and Belle’s smile was enough to keep him cozy until Spring. “You know, I saw a few gifts under that tree with my name on them,” Belle said.
“Oh?” he replied innocently.
“Yes, what are they doing there?”
“I guess you were a good girl this year.”
“Ian, you know you didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Technically a gift is something one has to give but what one chooses to give,” he said.
“But Ian, you didn’t—.”
“I want to, Belle,” he cut her off to say, “You have done so much for us these past months. I was a wreck, Bae was distraught, and you came along and pulled us back together. You didn’t have to burden yourself with an old cripple and a young boy. You undoubtedly had plans, dreams, but your put them on hold to help us through this and I can never repay you for that.”
Tears winked in Belle’s eyes, threatening to spill over. “Oh Ian, you and Bae have never been a burden to me. I’ve enjoyed being here, I wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else.”
He looked down into his rum. “That’s kind of you, Belle, but I know you had other plans.”
“Maybe I did,” she said, “But when I heard what Milah had done, I didn’t hesitate to come here. You and Bae are family, that is the most important thing in the world.”
“But you didn’t have to stay for so long,” he reminded her, “You could go back to Boston.”
“I don’t want to,” she said, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “This is home now.”
His heart was hammering inside of his chest. The touch of her hand was sending sparks of fire through his blood, clouding his brain in a way no drug or alcohol could do. “Belle,” he said her name softly.
“Yes?” She looked at him with such large, impossibly blue eyes. She was waiting for something and she was so close, so very close. If he just leaned a little more towards her then he could taste the rum off of her lips.
Should he do it? Should he kiss her? Should he tell her how he felt? God, could he actually say the words? Did he dare? He had never felt like this before. With Milah or any other woman he had been so confident, so sure. Maybe because Belle was different, because what he felt was different. What if she didn’t feel the same? What if she left because of that?
No, he couldn’t do it. It was best just to hold his tongue.
“Would you like some more?” he asked her, “The rum I mean?”
“No, that’s okay,” she said. There was something to her voice now, almost sad. Was she…disappointed?
“It’s late I guess,” Belle said, “I should probably go to bed. Merry Christmas.”
He almost let her get up, almost let her walk up to their room. He could. If he did then she would go to bed, they would get up in the morning and enjoy Christmas with Bae. Nothing would change, they would still be living in this house, still see each other for lunch, still go about their lives. But wasn’t that the point of this time of year? To be bold? To hope for something more than what one usually had?
Gold didn’t know where he found the courage, but he took her hand and kept her from leaving. “Ian?” she asked, “What are you…?” He didn’t let her finish. He had to do this before he lost his nerve completely.
He stared into her eyes for one impossibly long moment, then did the brave thing. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
For a moment she didn’t do anything. Had he misjudged the moment? Was it all ruined now? Her mug hit the carpet with a thud as it slipped from her fingers. Then her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders so her arms could wind around his neck.
They only broke apart for air, but they didn’t move too far away. Belle’s lips were swollen and red, but she smiled up at him. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for years,” she said breathlessly.
“Years?”
Belle nodded. “I…I had such a crush on you when I was younger. It broke my heart when you married Milah. I thought that I had moved on, but these past few months…oh Ian, I think I’ve always been in love with you.”
It felt like his heart was on fire inside of his chest, filling his whole body with warmth and tingling sensations. He smiled at her and cupped her face with his hands. “I wish I could have known how you felt, maybe it wouldn’t have taken me this long to see it. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Belle.”
Tears shined in her blue eyes but her smile was as bright as ever. He kissed her again, never wanted to stop kissing her. This was love, real, honest, true love.
Her hands gripped his hair as he explored her mouth. His hands fell away from her face, sliding down the curves of her body to her waist. They kissed and kissed all while their hands explored one another, the only light in the room was the glow of the fireplace and the lights on the Christmas tree.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. His hands lifted up the hem of her blouse. Skin was bared and their hands had to touch, caress, and tease every inch of it. She pushed him gently until he lay on the couch, her straddling his waist. She kissed and touched his bare chest, all while his hands cupped her breasts and teased her nipples.
The unbuttoned and unzipped the rest of their clothing before pealing it off and tossing it aside. They let their hands take over, say what they were feeling and what they wanted to do, because they were too busy kissing to say the words themselves.
Finally, Belle lowered herself over him, his cock filling her slowly. She was so wet and tight he thought he would die from the pleasure. He let her set the rhythm, content to let his hands wander her sweet form, finding those spots that made her moan and sigh. Their hands eventually found each other, tangling their fingers together as they found their mutual bliss.
He held her afterwards, enjoying the warmth of her embrace and the sweet smell of her hair. This was happiness, this was peace.
It was the cold that finally roused him. Even though he was wrapped up in his beautiful Belle, they were both still naked and the fire had long since died. The moon was gone, now the early rays of the sun filtered through the frosted windows. He didn’t want to wake up, just wanted to stay there forever with Belle tangled up with him.
She hummed into his chest as she woke. Her blue eyes met his and she smiled at him. “Merry Christmas, Ian,” she said sleepily.
“Merry Christmas, Belle.” It was the best Christmas he ever had.
He meant to kiss her, but the sound of a door slamming shut made them both freeze. Small footsteps pattered upstairs, heading towards the staircase. They looked at each other with identical wide-eyed looks of horror.
They scrambled for their clothes. He found his pants, but only had one leg in when Bae came racing down the stairs. “Did he come? Did Santa come?” he called out excitedly.
Bae stopped at the foot of the stairs, his brown eyes taking in everything: the mountain of presents stacked under the tree, the streamers decorating the ceiling and walls, and his half naked father and equally half naked aunt.
“Papa? Why aren’t you and Aunt Belle wearing clothes?”
“Uh…” Oh God, how could one explain this to a six year old without scaring him for life? “You see, Bae, we, uh…”
“It was Buddy,” Belle broke in to say, “We stayed up too late and Santa came, so Buddy put us to sleep. He took out clothes as one last prank to teach us a lesson.”
“That wasn’t very nice,” Bae said.
“He’s a mischievous elf,” Gold agreed. One look at Belle showed her biting her lip as she blushed scarlet. “You go back upstairs and brush your teeth and then we’ll open the presents.”
“Okay.” Bae quickly ran back up the stairs, no doubt going to give his teeth the fastest, most ineffective scrub they would ever receive.
Belle fell back onto the couch the moment Bae was gone, burying her face into her hands but the laughter peeled through her fingers. “I think we’ve made the naughty list for next year,” she said.
“Most likely,” Gold said. They had only minutes, he knew, but he couldn’t help but get one last kiss in before the rest of Christmas began.
Heeey! :) Secret Santa, Christmas and fuzzy times are approaching, and I just wanted to send you the biggest hug in history! I know I've been m.i.a., but I've been thinking about you fondly all this time! <3 I hope everything is well over there! Here we've already had snow (!) and I've been trying to cope with having two rather stressful jobs, but other than that all's good; I'm looking forward to the holiday season! Sending you much love and wishing you the funkiest November, yours truly, munki
Munki!!! *huggles*
Everything here is pretty good — I’m in Florida now, so luckily I don’t have to deal with snow! Grad school is quite stressful, but it’s really interesting so it makes up for it.
Sorry to hear that your jobs are stressing you out. :( That’s a bummer. Are you doing RSS again this year?? I just got my assignment, but you’ll always be my first Santa. <3
Oh my, hiii! Thank you so, so much for following me! *doing the dance of joy* You're amazing and your fics are my precious and I need to go now and breathe in a paper bag because you-are-following-me! Ok, bye! :) <3
