Rumple & Belle - or Robert & Emilie - playing some sort of game while waiting for their hamburgers.
(I am inclined to believe it’s Robert and Emilie, since that is distinctly Bobby’s real accent and not the ‘softened’ Mr. Gold one.)
Hearing that voice, the adventurer froze mid toast. Her companions, looking up at the figure behind her which she herself couldn't see, reached for their weapons almost on instinct. Of course, this was to no avail as they stiffened seemingly on command – it was on command.
Belle turned slowly, looking up at the beast she'd had to leave behind – a chapter of her life she'd left behind, hand raised to keep her companions docile. She'd pictured seeing him again many times before, but never in a million years had she imagined to see tears in his eyes.
She swallowed, letting out the softest of breaths, a breath with which his name should never be accompanied.
“Rumpelstiltskin.”
It happened on instinct, but it became proof that only she could get away with punching the Dark One in the jaw.
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What if Rumple came across his discarded maid during her grand adventure?
Mr. Gold doesn't exist. Not in that sense, anyway. Regina went back on their deal, and Rumpelstiltskin (human despite the broken deal) is locked in a cage below the Storybrooke hospital – even below the asylum that hides there. Because he remembers everything, he spends each and every single day of twenty eight years – days that are all one in the same – waiting for the Saviour.
Lacey doesn't exist. Not in that sense, anyway. Belle's cursed memories have made her doubt what's real and what isn't for the day she's spent locked up – the day that's felt like nearly thirty years. She's gone a little mad. One day things change, and suddenly a door is left unlocked; a door leading to her escape.
He was a weak man after all. A weak beast, he should say.
It hadn't been long since Regina dropped by with news of her - Belle's - tragic end, of course with a cruel grin on her lips, but it had been long enough for him to stop his nonsensical crying. That, of course, didn't mean he was finished mourning.
The day Belle had left, Rumpelstiltskin had barred the doors to her room shut with chairs and tables in a feeble attempt at keeping himself away, and he'd spun day in and day out to just forget; forget where he'd put the mementos that reminded him of her (save for the cup he couldn't stop himself from displaying), forget how she'd thrown herself from a tower - forget her.
And then he'd see the enchanted rose - her ex-fiancé - and it all came tumbling back to him.
He stepped slowly closer to the rose, taking it into his hands. When he looked at it, he saw not the knight he'd cursed, but the flower she'd so gratefully accepted from him, and so delicately tended to.
"I should probably disenchant this," he mumbled to himself, barely even above a whisper. He hadn't felt chipper since the bad news came, and at this time, he doubted he ever would again.
He turned his head suddenly towards the windows as the orange sun peered at him. He couldn't bring himself to covering the damned windows even with her gone - "it's almost spring, we should let some light in" she'd said, by now long ago, and since then spring had passed, returned, and then gone once more, but still he couldn't shut the drapes.
Turning back to the rose in his hands, Rumpelstiltskin swallowed the emotion building in this throat as if it was bile.
"She's not coming back this time."
Rather than making the rose a man once more, he simply placed it on the table as he went back to his spinning wheel.
"Belle? Are you alright?" Asked Philip as Mulan poked her sword into the bonfire.
Belle, who had been staring into the flames for a solid five minutes, gave only a low hum in response.
Mulan sighed - "Belle, I appreciate that you're still with me - with us - but... you haven't been yourself lately. Not since you found..." She trailed off, eyes shifting to the holster at the bookworm's side.
Belle sighed, feeling Mulan's eyes shift, and protectively laid a hand on the shielded weapon.
"It's not cursed if that's what you're thinking." She swallowed. "Well, at least not in that way." With a heavy heart, she looked down at the hidden blade, working her jaw as she thought.
One one hand she could tell them - she trusted these people, and they were worried about her; they deserved to know what kept her so... on-guard.
On the other hand, what she had in her possession was powerful and dangerous; while she trusted them, the fact remained that Rumpelstiltskin was a powerful immortal being - one that could only be defeated in one way. Who's to say they wouldn't use it if they knew? Who's to say they'd be wrong to do so?
She managed a smile. "Truth is that it reminds me of... someone I lost. Someone I didn't really get to bid a proper farewell to."
"And this is someone you... won't see again?" Philip asked with a low, pitiful voice.
Belle's lips tightened into a thin line, but she nodded.
"Most likely."
Mulan and Philip exchanged a look, and if she didn't know better, Belle would have thought they smiled at one another.
Mulan rose, stretching her arms above her head. "I should get hunting for provisions - if we're continuing our trek tomorrow we need to refill our bags."
Philip rose as well, avoiding her eyes in an unsuccessful attempt at not smiling. "Right, and I should look for more firewood. While we're away, Belle, you could - I don't know - read. Or pack. Or empty your heart and soul in a heartfelt farewell to whoever it is weighs down your heart- ow!"
Mulan hit his arm, giving him a stern look, but set off without another word. Philip shot her a sheepish smile before following.
As she was left alone by the fire, Belle let out a heavy sigh.
A moment passed.
And another.
She did ultimately unsheath the dagger, reading his tongue-twister name etched into the metal.
"I'm sorry, Rumple." She said softly, rising to her feet. "This is for the best - if your enemies find this, you're done for. I can't have that."
The lake wasn't that far away, but it was so dark she knew no one would ever find the dagger. With trembling hands and tears in her eyes, Belle held it up to her face, carefully pressing her lips to the cool steel.
"Stay safe, Rumpelstiltskin."
She threw it with all her might, and it sunk into the deep, hopefully never to be found again.
She didn't feel happier as she walked away, but she felt lighter; the burden of the dagger was off her shoulders.
She'd severed the tether.
(Yeah that was a half-assed explanation of my idea of the piece)