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boushh2187 · 3 years

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The Festival - Rumbelle Secret Santa Gift

Title: The Festival

By: boushh2187

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Rumbelle :)

Rumbelle Secret Santa 2020 Gift for @peacehopeandrats

Prompt: winter, fire, stroll in the snow

Word Count: 2220

Rated: PG

Author’s Note: @peacehopeandrats it was a pleasure being your santa! I hope you enjoy this little story. I really liked the prompt and tried going for something wintery and heartwarming. :)

Summary: A visit to a nearby winter festival continues the unusual relationship between the master of the castle and the caretaker.

“There you are!” Belle stood indoors at the top of one of the castle towers. The wind whipped through the open window where Rumplestiltskin stood. She had been looking for him for quite some time. It wasn’t terribly unusual for him to up and disappear occasionally, but overall he would let her know if he would be leaving the castle. Belle suspected that he knew she would get frustrated if she was alone in the castle and didn’t know it, especially if she expected to have a dinner companion.

He stood by the window, and the wind blew at his frayed cloak and his hair. He looked quite human when he was silhouetted, and Belle knew that he must have been a man once. Even through his unusual sparkling, scaly skin, and odd eyes, one could see the man that was once behind the beast. He turned slightly so that she could see his profile more clearly and he nodded to acknowledge her presence.

She moved forward and stood next to him, trying to get a peek out the window. Something had caught his attention, and as usual, Belle was curious. “What has your attention at such an hour? Your dinner is going to get cold.” He stood aside slightly, so that she could stand next to him and have a look out of the narrow window. She shivered and rubbed at her arms. Her peasant dress was not for this weather, at least not without a warm cloak.

Belle looked into the distance and she assumed she saw what had interested Rumplestiltskin. The nearby town was brightly lit, much more so than usual. There seemed to be much more activity. She could even make out more pillars of smoke when the moonlight shone through the clouds. She squinted her eyes and asked, “Is it… is it a winter festival?”

“Indeed.”

“Have you ever been? What am I saying, of course you must have gone. It’s so close…”

“It’s been many, many years since I’ve been to such a thing. I don’t have time, nor interest in festivals unless they serve to close a deal.”

“You’ve been to a winter festival in the past though?”

“Of course. I am hundreds of years old, and my… and I knew someone who enjoyed these festivals very much.”

Once again, an allusion to his life before. Belle would get glimpses into his past, and even though she found his magic and his adventures interesting, she was even more curious about his life before… when he was an ordinary person.

“Come along now. You said our dinner was getting cold!” His cloak billowed behind him as he walked by. He took the stairs swiftly, and Belle followed with a final shiver from the cold. She found it worth noting that even with all of his magic, Rumplestiltskin rarely used it in the castle for mundane things such as traveling within the large estate. She supposed that’s why he needed or wanted a caretaker… well except for the obvious fact that he was lonely.

*****

Belle sat near the fireplace of the great room in the castle. It had gone out while she and Rumplestiltskin were finishing their meal. She set about arranging the logs and lighting the fire. It wasn’t a moment too soon as there was a chill in the air already. She watched as the kindling started to catch and the flame lifted upwards into a nice warm fire. She held her hands out to warm them. Perfect.

Rumplestiltskin was nearby spinning, deep in thought as usual. This was around the time where she would bring out some tea and read for a while before it was time to turn in for the night. She walked up to Rumplestiltskin and watched him spin for a few moments. She enjoyed watching him spin. It was soothing somehow. “What is it, dearie?” His voice startled her out of her quiet reverie. He seemed to reproach himself immediately when he saw her reaction.

Belle shook herself and replied, “Oh, I wanted to ask you what type of tea you would like this evening? The Greenleaf, perhaps?”

“Fine.” He glanced at her briefly before continuing with his spinning.

Belle watched the gold string fall softly into the basket below. Something was clearly on his mind. She smiled softly and set off to prepare their tea.

A short while later, she sat reading her latest discovery from the castle library, which was also her bedroom. She tried not to chuckle at that. If she was going to be stuck in this castle for the rest of her life, she couldn’t think of a better spot to call her own.

She closed the book with a satisfied sigh. The ending of this one was perfect, unlike the last one she read, which left her wanting to toss the book into the fire… not that she would ever really toss any book into a fire. Sometimes though, she wondered what the author was thinking with an ending like that! So many loose ends… but this one was wrapped up neatly and it was just perfect.

“Enjoy the book?” Rumplestiltskin asked. He was standing quite close to her and she had been so wrapped up in the story that she hadn’t noticed.

“Oh yes.” She held the book out to him. “Would you like to read it?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “I’ve read every book in that library.”

Belle raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t considered that possibility.

“We need to get you some new books!”

Rumplestiltskin laughed softly. She enjoyed when he was so amiable.

“Perhaps you can do so tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?”

“How would you like to accompany me to the winter festival in town?”

Belle stood up. “Oh, I would love to! I haven’t been to one since I was a child! My mother used to take me and then the ogres began to act up and my father forbade us to go out of the castle walls without an armed guard. It just wouldn’t have been the same to visit with a group of soldiers following us around.”

“Then we shall go tomorrow. No need for an armed guard. I shall protect you from any foe,” he said it with a silly tone in his voice, but his expression betrayed him and she sensed that he was truly quite serious.

*****

They took the carriage late that afternoon. Belle convinced Rumplestiltskin to take the horses out for the evening and not rely on his magic to propel the carriage. In truth she did find the horseless carriage fascinating, but she also knew the horses needed a good work out and she loved helping get them ready. It was also something that the two of them could do together in companionable silence. She enjoyed moments like those. It was as if they were almost friends.

At the moment, they sat together in the carriage. He had draped a blanket over the two of them, as he had done on a few occasions where they had gone out. He still directed the horses using his magic, but at least the poor beasts weren’t idling in the castle all day. It was cold out, but the horses could handle it, especially since they were moving at a nice pace.

There was a light snow falling, just enough to look pretty. It would be nice to take a stroll in the snow at the winter festival. As they neared the village, Belle could make out the abundant candles lit throughout the village. She could smell the fresh bread and pastries that were being made in the kitchens too.

Rumplestiltskin stopped the carriage just outside the village and helped her down. She shivered a bit as she stepped into the slightly snow covered ground. Perhaps this peasant dress and this floral patterned cloak that she wore weren’t enough to keep her warm outside of the carriage. She picked up the pace towards the village, and Rumplestiltskin followed. He was dressed more warmly than she was, in a heavy cloak and boots. “Hurry!” she called out to him. I think it would be nice to get some warm bread!”

They walked through the village pathways that were lined with cottages, smoke billowing through the chimneys. Both she and Rumplestiltskin had their hoods up, though Belle suspected that Rumplestiltskin did this so that he would not get any attention. She wondered if the villagers knew him at all? They stopped at the baker’s shop and Rumplestiltskin purchased a nice warm loaf of cinnamon bread. The village was now dark except for the moonlight that filtered in through the trees and rooftops, and of course the candles and crackling fire pits. They shared the warm bread as they browsed the shops selling trinkets, clothes, books, and supplies of all kinds. They purchased candles to celebrate the occasion and walked along the light crowds just like the regular townspeople were doing.

They went in and out of the shops. The snow had coated the ground and frosted up the windows. It was perfect timing for such a festival. Belle browsed the dresses in one of the shops and stopped to look at a red velvet dress that looked to be much warmer than what she was wearing now. Of course, it was something that was meant for a party, and not maid attire at all.

“Go try it on,” Rumplestiltskin said from behind her. She jumped slightly. She had been so engrossed in running her fingers through the fabric that she had forgotten that he’d come in the shop along with her.

The shopkeeper was all too happy to usher her into a dressing room, and was chatting about coming in for fittings as Belle stepped into the room. The shopkeeper drew the curtains behind her, and she was alone there for a moment and about to hold up the dress to see how to loosen the fastenings, when it glowed and disappeared from her hands. She was suddenly wearing the very dress that she had held in her hands, and it fit perfectly. The garb that she wore from the castle was in a satchel at her feet. Rumplestiltskin, she muttered under her breath. How am I going to explain this? She couldn’t help but smile subtly as she stepped back into the shop.

Rumplestiltskin stood there. His hood was down, and the shopkeeper looked taken aback. He held up a heavy, red velvet cloak with white fur trim. “To complete the look,” he said, and twirled his fingers for her to turn around. She turned her back towards him, trying to keep her small smile from turning into a full fledged silly grin. He placed the cloak on her shoulders and drew the clasps closed in front of her. “There,” he said. “Now your attire suits the occasion, and the weather.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Belle said as she turned to face him.

“Think nothing of it. I grew tired of seeing you dressed in the same old thing!” he threw a hand up in the air and stepped away from her. She watched as he emptied a bag of gold onto the shopkeeper’s counter. “Please, let my maid choose whatever else she likes. I will be waiting outside.” He glanced at Belle and smiled softly. Sometimes, he was something else, and certainly not the monster he appeared to be. She wished those moments were more frequent.

When she met him outside the shop a short while later she had something for him. She held out a package wrapped in brown paper and a red ribbon.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Just a little gift. You said that I could get anything else I liked in the shop. Well, I thought you could use this.”

The snow had stopped falling and they both had their hoods down. The cold air had turned Belle’s cheeks rosy. She could feel it. Rumplestiltskin placed their large candles down onto a nearby table, and opened the gift. As he unwrapped it, he looked surprised and touched that she had thought to give him something, even though he had brought up that very thing last night. His hands ran along the leather-bound book that Belle had chosen for him. It was a dark brown color and the title was stamped in gold foil. “The Unusual Affair”

“The shopkeeper said it’s brand new! The ink is barely dry, she said. I’m sure you haven’t read this one.”

Rumplestiltskin looked at her with a gentle expression. “I have not. Thank you, Belle.” He chuckled as he added, “I must say that it sounds rather scandalous.”

Belle laughed. “It does… And thank you for the new dress and cloak.” She looked down, suddenly feeling her cheeks grow warm. Hopefully, he would think it was just from the cold.

He reached down and took the satchel that held her everyday clothes. “Come along now. It’s getting late and I want to start reading my new book!” he exclaimed, as if she was holding him back. He held his arm out with a flourish for her to step ahead of him. She chuckled at his antics and took the candles from the table, lighting their way back to their carriage and their way home.

#rumbelle secret santa #peacehopeandrats #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle fanfic #my stuff #my fics #rss 2020

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xiolaperry · 4 years

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The Piano - Chapter 3

Notes: My Camp NaNoWriMo Project for April 2020. A Rumbelling of the 1993 movie ‘The Piano’. Has 14 chapters, all are written. I’ll post one every few days. Some dialogue is taken directly from the film and from ‘Once Upon a Time’. No copyright infringement intended - I’m just having fun. The film is gorgeous, if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend that you watch it.

Summary: Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume. Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated…

Rating: E (for smut, dark subject matter and violence in future chapters)

Also available on AO3

Tilly and Belle awoke to find the house empty. While they ate bread with apple preserves, Belle noticed a woman's touch about the place: a crocheted doily, ornate china cups with gaudy red roses, lace trimmed curtains at the windows. Who chose them?

Bursting with curiosity, Tilly opened every cabinet and pulled out every drawer. Belle's first inclination was to scold her daughter for being nosy and going through someone else’s possessions. Then she laughed at herself, remembering this was Tilly's home now too. These were now their possessions. So she joined her instead.

They found a washtub, and she had Tilly scrub the mud from yesterday's dresses. If the trek from the beach was any indication, mud would be their constant companion.

Her restless hands tapped snatches of music in accompaniment to the unceasing rain on the roof. A melody expressing her current uneasiness filled her mind, and she ached to play it. She couldn't even read a book to relax.

Midday, she saw Gaston exit the barn. Perhaps she ought to have gone out there to see him earlier, but she had needed the time alone with Tilly to adjust to the new surroundings. And going out in the rain again was just too daunting.

There was a knock at the door. Why would Gaston knock at his own home? She was surprised when she opened the door, not to find her husband, but two women and a red-haired man. Gaston appeared behind the strangers, and she stood aside to let them all enter.

“May I present my Aunt Cora, her daughter Regina, and Reverend Hopper. Everyone, this is Belle and her daughter Tilly.”

Belle bowed her head and curtsied, and prompted Tilly to do so as well. Her first impression of the women was one of overwhelming coldness. Their faces were beautiful but severe. They were the source of the feminine touches. Reverend Hopper was the opposite. His face and manner exuded warmth and welcome. She saw in him a potential friend.

“They're here to join us for a mid-day meal. I forgot to tell you.”

Belle had a moment of panic. What would she serve them? Gaston hadn't given her any time to prepare.

“Don't worry, we brought food with us,” said Cora, indicating Regina's raised basket. Belle motioned to Tilly to set the table.

Fresh bread, cheese, a meat pie, and delicate cookies appeared from the basket. They looked delicious and skillfully prepared. But the uncomfortable conversation soon caused them to sour in her stomach.

“You must be so grateful to have found a man as wonderful as my nephew to marry you,” stated Cora. “Did you despair of ever finding a husband considering your... circumstances?”

Tilly conveyed her mother's answer. “Mama says her circumstances were quite lovely, thank you. And there was no despair, she simply fancied an adventure.”

“I'm sure she did,” replied Cora, raising an eyebrow while stirring her tea.

Belle knew she had to get along with these women. She told Tilly to compliment the tea set, even though she found the large red roses garish and ugly.

“Thank you. That was a gift from us,” answered Regina. “Mother had hoped Gaston would find a woman of quality to take care of them. Oh, well.”

Belle bristled. Would there be no end to their innuendo that she was somehow lacking? Gaston, enjoying his food, was oblivious to the cattiness.

Reverend Hopper attempted to steer the conversation to safer ground. “Would you like me to take a wedding photograph of the two of you? I'm an amateur photographer and always enjoy a chance to indulge in my hobby. You didn't get a ceremony, but you could at least have a picture.”

Gaston brightened. “We do make a very attractive couple. Yes, Reverend, we'd like that.”

“I agree,” interjected Cora, as if they required her agreement. “We shall all return on a nicer day and have it done. Something to show your future children, Gaston.” She patted his cheek, smiling.

Gaston tensed and changed the subject, asking about Regina's latest projects. His aunt told them all about her daughter's accomplishments, how well she could sing, her proficiency as a cook and gardener, and her talent as a seamstress. Belle wanted to ask how such a talented, quality woman was still unmarried but did not want to stoop to their level of petty barbs.

Reverand Hopper stood. “We must be going. Belle and Tilly, it was wonderful to meet you both,” he said. “I hope you will be happy here.” At last, the ordeal was over. After a series of goodbyes, Cora and her entourage departed. Gaston returned to the barn.

When Belle finished clearing the table and washing the dishes, there was nothing left to distract her. She stared out the window at the sullen rain. Her piano and books were alone on the beach, waiting for her to rescue them.

The rain ceased during the night. Sunlight streamed in the windows, cheering Belle and Tilly as they discussed potential adventures. Gaston observed Belle and her daughter at the table, irritated. Their hands danced in silent conversation. It was unnerving. At least she would be useful around the house, someone to watch over things when he wasn't there.

“I have to go away for a few days. There is some business I need to conduct and it can’t wait. Will you be all right here tending to the chickens and other chores?”

Belle smiled and nodded. Tilly replied, “Yes, we will be.”

“We can get to know each other better when I return.” Another nod. “If you have any problems, Mr. Gold lives a relatively short distance away. I'll leave a map.”

Gaston left on horseback. As Belle tidied up, all she could think about were her piano and books. Her life was silent without her instrument. Music filled everything with color. She missed the comfort and adventure of her books.

Household tasks complete, Belle and Tilly dressed in boots and jackets. Mr. Gold had not been friendly, but she had glimpsed something kind in his brown eyes. She was sure of it. He would take them to the beach.

Planks served as makeshift paths through the mud. It was a frustrating and messy business navigating them. The planks, not always close enough, often left too big of a gap to jump. They sank into the mire. At last, they left the cleared area of Gaston's property.

Mr. Gold's house was smaller than Gaston's, but it complemented its surroundings. He had not removed the native plants and trees, instead he had worked with them. It gave the effect of finding an enchanted cottage in the woods.

She knocked at the door and Mr. Gold answered. He had a cane in his hand. She hadn't noticed him using one the other day. “Mrs. Legume. What can I do for you?”

Belle wrote him a quick note. He looked at the paper and stated, “I can't read.” He was not embarrassed to tell her this. His father had abandoned him as a child with his two “aunties.” They were spinners and taught him the trade. School was a luxury he’d not had time for.

Belle was taken aback. She turned to Tilly and signed to her.

“Please take us to the beach.”

“No. I can't. Sorry.” He did not want to get involved. He closed the door.

Belle would not be dissuaded. He had to help her. She plopped down on the porch with Tilly and told her a story to pass the time. It was about an evil sorcerer who lived in a castle he had enchanted to look like a tiny house in the woods. He hunted children and skinned them for their pelts.

Tilly watched, rapt. The more fanciful and gruesome the story, the better. Belle embellished the tale with all sorts of fantastical details, wondering how long it would take Mr. Gold to emerge.

It surprised Gold when he came out to sparkling blue eyes and smiles. Their calmness disarmed him.

“I can't do it.”

They said nothing.

“I have other plans.”

Silence.

It was difficult to argue when the other party would not engage. Gold did not relish them sitting on the porch, staring at him for the rest of the day. This was the easiest way to get rid of them, he told himself as he traded his cane for a walking stick and put on his jacket. He was just removing an annoyance from his property and satisfying his curiosity.

Feigning impatience, he started down the trail. “Aren't you coming?”

The trip down to the beach progressed faster than Belle expected. Since it was only the three of them and they had nothing heavy to carry, Gold took them a different way.

This time she could enjoy the scenery. Instead of focusing on the mud at her feet, her gaze turned upward. The canopy of trees was a lush green against the clear blue sky. Birds fluttered and sang, and Belle imagined their chatter to be cheering her along.

Gold cast an occasional furtive glance behind him to make sure they kept up. When they reached the cliff and Belle caught sight of her things, her face transformed with joy. She and Tilly scampered down the steep incline as fast as they could, overtaking his careful descent. The change in her was amazing.

Belle ran to the piano. She tore at the slats of the crate covering the keys. It took Gold longer to make his way down to the beach. By the time he reached them, Belle was playing music and Tilly was dancing with childish abandon.

Gold watched and told himself the glow he saw in her was just the warmth of the sun. Had he thought her beautiful before? He was wrong. She was exquisite. Her eyes were animated and her dark hair came loose from its braid, whipping in the wind, red highlights flashing in the day’s brightness.

It was a moment he would always remember. Standing in the sand, the waves crashing, birds in the sky. Gold did not have experience with music. Like schooling, it was a luxury he had not enjoyed as a child and he hadn't had time for as he worked to make his fortune. He hadn’t known what he was missing. It was passion, longing, radiance. He was enthralled.

Tilly tired of her dance and made creatures out of shells in the sand. Gold found himself helping, drawing large outlines of seahorses and starfish with his cane. In return, Tilly told him stories of their voyage.

Too soon, their shadows lengthened across the sand. The tone of her composition changed. It sped up, as though the player was trying to cram in as many notes as possible before reaching the end. Tense, staccato sounds slowed into sad, lonely chords. Tilly sat down next to her mother and they played a brief, simple duet in farewell.

Gold helped Belle re-secure her piano. Before he thought better of it, he spoke. “Would you like to bring some books back with you? We can put some in my satchel.”

Belle opened a trunk, carefully peeling back the waterproof canvas. She looked at the books like a woman forced to choose between her children. She handed him a heavy botanical tome and a book of plays to put into his bag. Tilly was given a slim book of poems that she could easily carry, and Belle took a larger book of poetry for herself. She wished she could teleport all the books by magic and reminded herself to be grateful to have these four returning with her. It was better than nothing. She closed the lid on the rest.

It was time to leave. On their way back, Gold missed the Belle from the beach, the one who was lit from within with joy. Each step took them further away from the beautiful day on the shore. She wilted when the house came into sight. Reality returned.

Through Tilly, she thanked him.

“It was no matter. I simply wanted you off my porch.”

She laughed soundlessly, her expressive eyes appearing to see straight through him. He rubbed his fingers, uneasy from the scrutiny.

“Mama would like to know if you would care to come in.”

“Now why would I want to do that? Here, take these heavy things,” he said. Uncomfortable, he thrust the books towards Belle. And with that, he spun around and trudged home, his ears still hearing the music from the beach, his vision full of Belle's hands dancing on the black and white keys, and the memory of Tilly twirling in the sun.

Link to music Belle played on the beach - (Composed by Michael Nyman for the film "The Piano".)

#my fic #the piano

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idesignedthefjords · 4 years

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RSS fic: He thought it said ‘Satan’

A Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for @spottytonguedog! She prompted “He thought it said Satan”. The inspiration for this fic came from this meme but don’t click until you’ve read the story!

Thank you @rumbellesecretsanta team for being my beta :) I was freaking out.

Summary: Belle tells Baelfire stories about her land and her Christmas customs. She tells the story of Santa Claus, and how children from her land send him letters and wish lists by placing them near the fireplace with some milk and mince pies.

Rumple finds the letter and chaos ensues.

Dark Castle AU where Baelfire lives with Belle and Rumpelstiltskin in the Dark Castle.

AO3 link

Belle had been at the Dark Castle for several months now. It took her awhile to get used to Rumpelstiltskin and his young son Baelfire, and they had to get used to her too. Belle didn’t seem afraid of The Dark One, and she certainly wasn’t afraid of Baelfire. The boy was just as lonely as his father, since there were no other children in the castle, and the children from the surrounding villages didn’t want to play with him; too afraid to be turned into snails.

But now that Belle was settled, Baelfire seemed to be much happier. They often went exploring the castle and the surrounding gardens, and when Rumple gave her a library she would read stories to him after dinner or tell the stories of her childhood. They were the same ones her mom told her.

-------------------------------------------

The castle being in the mountains meant it got cold fast. The curtains Belle pulled from the windows were back in their place. This time Rumpelstiltskin put them back on, not wanting Belle to put herself in danger again, and risking him not being near to catch her.

“It would be a bad investment if I lost my maid already!” he teased.

“Just admit that you like me and you care about me,” Belle replied.

Before Rumpelstiltskin could reply, Baelfire barged in and interrupted them. “Papa it’s snowing outside! Can we go outside and play?”

“I still have to make some potions Bae, but you can ask Belle to go with you,” Rumpelstiltskin replied.

Once Belle and Baelfire were dressed for the cold weather, and outside the castle grounds, Baelfire started building a snowman. Belle fed the few birds who dared to fly high in the mountains some birdseed. When the snowman was finished, Belle offered Baelfire her scarf to put around its neck.

“It’s getting dark Bae, let’s get inside to warm up before I start dinner.” Belle suggested after making sure the scarf was tied properly.

“Oh please Belle, can we stay for a bit longer? Do you want to have a snow fight?” Baelfire pleaded.

“Well, seeing as I just gave up my scarf for your snowman, I think I’ll pass,” Belle replied. But when she saw Baelfire's face drop she added: “But we can make snow angels? It’s something we used to do in Avonlea. Did you ever make one? It’s really easy! Just lay down on the snow, with your arms and legs stretched.”

Baelfire immediately dropped down.

“Ok and now what do I do?” he asked.

“Now you wave your arms up and down and move your legs from side to side.” Belle explained. “Now stand up carefully and you can see the snow angel!”

“Wow this looks beautiful! What else did you do in Avonlea?” Baelfire asked, while making another snow angel.

“You know what, I will tell you once we get inside.” Belle shivered. “We did have some special celebrations during the Yule. I haven’t heard you talk about Santa Claus? He was very important during our celebrations. I can tell you all about him if you like?”

That sparked Baelfire's attention. The promise of another story from Belle, and especially from her lands made him jump up and run inside. Belle smiled, maybe if she could get Baelfire excited for Midwinter fest, she could have a bit of her old home in her new home in the castle.

---------------------------------

When Belle returned from the tower to check up on Rumpelstiltskin and give him his tea, she went back to the library where Baelfire was already waiting for her. “Come on Belle, tell me about Sandy Claws!”

“His name is Santa Claus”, Belle smiled. “He wears red robes and a hat, both lined with fur. He lives in a faraway land, and only visits us the night before Yule.. He leaves presents under the Yule tree. But he only visits children who have been good the previous year to leave them gifts.”

“How does he know if you have been good? And what kind of gifts does he bring?” Baelfire interrupted.

“Well, he has a magic book, and the names of the children who have been good show up in the book.” Belle explained.

“A magic book?” Baelfire looked apprehensive. “Papa says all magic comes at a price. What is the price of getting gifts from Santa Claus?”

Belle took a few moments to reply. “Children write him a nice letter and wish lists with the gifts they would like to receive. They leave their letter near the fireplace with some milk and mince pies. So the price will be the milk and mince pies, and you have to have been a good person during the whole year.”

Baelfire seemed to accept her answer. “Could I also write a letter? Or does Santa Claus only visits the children in Avonlea?”

“If you write him a nice letter and draw one of your lovely drawings, I am absolutely sure he will also visit you. I will make mince pies, and you can leave them tonight,” Belle suggested.

Baelfire jumped up.

“I am going to make a drawing right now! And I already know what I want to ask for!” He ran towards the stairs, almost knocking his father over.

“Ouch! Watch out Bae! Some people are tired from working, you know. Not that our maid would know that… Are you done playing Belle? I am hungry and I don’t smell anything cooking. I heard something about pies?”

Belle stood up and headed towards the kitchen. “Yes Rumple, I will start making the meat pies for dinner.” If she made extra pastry she could use it for the mince pies. And hopefully her little plan would work and she would find out what gifts Baelfire wanted tonight so she could surprise him during Yule. She felt Baelfire needed to feel like a carefree child, if only for this one holiday.

--------------------------------------------

After dinner Rumpelstiltskin went back to his tower to work some more. Belle and Baelfire prepared the mince pies and milk for Santa Claus, and placed them on a table in front of the hearth.

“Did you get your letter and wish list? What did you ask Santa?” Belle asked Baelfire.

“I’ve got the letter, and I also drew a picture for Santa! But what I’m wishing for is a surprise. I’m sure you’d like it too, though,” Baelfire replied.

“Well, let’s get you off to bed then. We must give Santa some time to find it. He only comes when you’re sleeping.”

Belle and Baelfire climbed the stairs to their bedrooms.

Rumpelstiltskin was just coming down from his tower when he passed them. “Belle, I was just looking for you! Could you please clean my workroom before I continue my work? It’s a mess.”

Belle sighed “Do I have to do it now? I was just going to bed!”

“You can do it now, or you can do it in a few years when I turn you back from your frog-form. What do you prefer?” he teased.

Belle just shot him a look, and turned around to fetch her cleaning supplies. Baelfire’s wish list would have to wait. She had plenty of time to take a look at it before he woke up.

Rumpelstiltskin went to the main hall. He smelled something sweet. He followed his nose towards the fireplace. Milk and mince pies? What an odd combination. He then noticed the letter addressed to Satan. Did his maid write Satan to save herself from the Dark One? That strange girl and her love for dangerous beasts… But then he noticed Baelfire’s handwriting. Not being able to control himself, he opened the envelope addressed to Satan and started reading.

-------------------------------------

“Well, I’m not really sure why you would come to me for a dog, but I’m flattered that your son drew me a picture. I never get anything nice….” The red, horned man spoke. “My dog just had puppies a few weeks ago, you can have one?”

The man grinned. “And we don’t have to make a deal.”

“No deal, as in free? Why? What’s wrong with it?” Rumpelstiltskin asked suspiciously. He didn’t like the idea of getting things for free. Nothing in life was free.

Satan just waved his hand. “Oh nothing is wrong with it… but I don’t need all these dogs. Just take one. Your son can send me a ‘thank you’ note with another drawing. How is that for a deal?”

Rumpelstiltskin thought about this. Baelfire really wanted this dog from Satan. He wanted it badly enough to try and send the letter through the fire in the fireplace, hoping it would get to Satan through the fires of hell. This puppy would make him happy, even though Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t understand why.

“Ok fine, I’ll take the dog, and I’ll let my son draw another picture for you. Do you also want the milk and mince pies?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“Hmmm no, the picture is fine” Satan looked confused. “Here’s the little green beast!”

“Green?!” Rumpelstiltskin looked in shock at the little pup in his arms.

----------------------------

Back in the castle, Belle stared at the fireplace. The letter and drawing was gone, but the mince pies and milk were still there. Did Baelfire fall asleep before he could place them? Or could Santa Claus be real? No, that couldn’t be. Or could it? She stepped slowly towards the fireplace and carefully stretched her neck to see if she could find any evidence of a fat old man dressed in red coming through the chimney.

“You’re up early!” Belle yelped and jumped backwards from the fireplace .When she swirled around she saw Rumpelstiltskin standing behind her holding a blanket. “I don’t think cleaning the chimney would be useful during the winter months” he teased.

“Did you bring another baby?” Belle eyed the wriggling blanket Rumpelstiltskin was holding.

Before he could reply, they were interrupted by a sleepy Baelfire.

“What’s wrong Belle? I heard you. Did you see Sa-“ he stopped in the middle of his sentence. “What are you holding there papa?”

Rumpelstiltskin swelled with pride “I have something for you Baelfire. Something I know you wanted more than anything!”

He walked towards his son and handed him the blanket. Baelfire slowly unwrapped it and gasped when a tongue suddenly made contact with his cheek.

“A puppy!” he exclaimed. He now unwrapped the puppy with more urgency and held the little pup up. “Oh papa thank you! This is the best gift ever!”

Belle looked at the pup and back to Rumple. The puppy looked… odd. He had a green fur coat. She had never heard of a green dog. The puppy almost looked like… Rumple in dog-form. She didn’t understand where he got the dog from. But he must have been the one who found Baelfire’s wish list.

“Rumple, what kind of breed is this?” Belle asked.

“Don’t you worry about that dearie. This is none of your business after all-“ right at that moment the puppy started barking because Baelfire threw a stick into the corridor, trying to play fetch with his new pet. The barking wasn’t like a normal puppy bark. Belle suddenly felt like she had to run far away. A deep, primal fear instilling in her. She looked at Rumpelstiltskin and he looked as horrified as she did. His eyes wide open with fear.

“Rumple? You felt it too, right? What is that dog?” Belle was still trembling with fear.

“Like I said, nothing to worry about! Can you watch Bae for a moment? And give that dog something to eat!” Rumpelstiltskin replied before disappearing.

Back in his tower, Rumpelstiltskin took a few deep breaths. He knew something was up with that dog! Satan wouldn’t have given him a normal dog for free. He took some of his books on mythical animals from his shelves and frantically searched what kind of animal this was. He wasn’t quite sure if Baelfire was safe, but he didn’t seem to be affected by the dog’s barking.

After an hour or so, he finally found what he was looking for! A greenish dog whose bark instilled fear in the people who were unfortunate enough to hear it. This wasn’t a normal dog, it was a cú sidhe! Of course Satan needed a dog like this… He continued reading:

The cú sidhe is a harbinger of death and takes the soul of a person to the afterlife. The cú sidhe is capable of hunting silently, but he can let out three terrifying barks. Those who hear the barking of the cú sidhe must reach safety by the third bark or be overcome with terror to the point of death.

They were lucky this one was just a puppy! He could scare them all to death by the time it was full-grown! Him being the Dark One would have been dragged to hell by his own pet. The dog couldn’t stay. He had to bring this bad news to his son and disappoint him. Again. Why did he even ask for a dog? Who put this idea in his head? He knew who did this, that girl with her stories!

----------------------------------------------

Rumpelstiltskin slammed the book on the kitchen table.

“This is all your fault! You and your silly stories! And look where it got us! A demon dog who terrifies people to death?!” Rumpelstiltskin exploded. “You are endangering Bae. We are lucky it’s still a puppy, but what if that thing grows older and is capable of scaring Bae to death with his bark?”

Belle looked at him with tears in her eyes. He thought she was going to cry, and he felt conflicted about that. He didn’t want to see her upset, let alone being the reason she was upset, but another part of him was angry with her for putting Baelfire in danger. His son was the most important person in his life. But Belle was… not un-important.

Belle took a shaky breath and Rumpelstiltskin prepared himself for her tears.

But then she spoke as calmly as she could, “Rumple, I didn’t want to put Bae in danger. I merely told him the story about Santa, and how the children in Avonlea would write him and asked him to grant them their wish. It was a story! I was planning on sneaking back down to get the wish list so I could get him the perfect gift for Christmas. You are the one who got him the demon dog, not me! So don’t you dare blame me for this!”

Rumpelstiltskin was fuming at this point, although he wasn’t sure if he was mad at Belle or mad at himself. “You are the one who planted the idea of Satan giving out gifts in his head so yes this is still you fault! Either way, the dog has to go!”

“What? No papa I love him!” Baelfire had just walked into the kitchen, with an excited demon puppy right behind him. “You can’t throw him out!”

“Bae, please… he is dangerous. It’s not a normal dog. He is a demon dog, he is a monster and he could kill you…” Rumpelstiltskin pleaded with Baelfire.

“What do you mean papa? He isn’t a monster. Santa wouldn’t give children demon dog’s.. right Belle? Tell papa about Santa!” Baelfire exclaimed.

Belle sighed “Baelfire, Santa wouldn’t give you a demon dog. But Santa Claus didn’t give you this dog. Your father found your letter and he thought it said ‘Satan’ instead of ‘Santa’. So he went to Satan with the letter, and Satan…”

“Would give me a demon dog..” Baelfire finished her sentence for her. He went quiet and looked at his puppy. The pup didn’t realize there was something wrong and was licking Baelfire’s hand.

“Bae...” Rumpelstiltskin started in a desperate attempt.

“No papa. I won’t give up my dog. He is not a monster. I still love him. He doesn’t want to kill me.”

Balefire looked at his father with watery eyes. “I think he is just misunderstood. Yes, he doesn’t look like a normal dog, and maybe he does have magic that can be used for evil. But I love him!”

Belle smiled. The similarity between the puppy and Rumple didn’t escape her.

“I agree with Bae. The puppy is just misunderstood. There is good in him, even though he is different from other pups. We can show him that he doesn’t have to use his magic for evil. Maybe he can use his magic for good? He can become our guard dog. Scaring away unwanted visitors like the Evil Queen?” Belle suggested. “Besides, I kind of like the green coat. “

Rumpelstiltskin sighed. He realised he was going to lose this battle. “Ok fine. The little beast can stay. But I am going to put a protection spell on us so we will be unaffected by his bark.”

“Oh thank you papa!” Baelfire ran up to his father and gave him a hug. He then turned to Belle and gave her a hug as well. “And thank you for convincing papa to let me keep him”.

Rumpelstiltskin muttered “She didn’t convince me. I am master here, I won’t let a maid tell me what to do…. Especially when it comes to beasts like that.” But Baelfire was already preoccupied with scratching the dog behind his ear.

Belle laughed and brushed by him on her way out of the kitchen. “I think the little beast is all bark and no bite. Just like someone else with a beautiful green skin.”

She left a stunned Rumpelstiltskin behind.

#rumbelle secret santa #spottytonguedog #rumbelle #ouat #rumbelle fic

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timelordthirteen · 4 years

Text

In All Things 10/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Gold and Belle have a little moment.

Notes: Because I am me and I will write every possible version of this scene in every possible fic forever. Sorry this is so short. Christmas program at school and other activities limited my writing time so I had to bump some things to the next chapter. :( For the 31 Days prompt #12: tea

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Gold took a sip of his tea and glared at Jefferson over the rim of the cup.

"All I am asking is that you consider it," Jefferson said. "It's been years since you've seen anyone, and -"

Gold set his cup down, frowning. "What good will it do? They either won't understand my situation, or they will confirm what we already know to be true." He stared at a spot on the tablecloth for a long moment and then sighed. "Or worse, they'll know it for what it is, and after that, the entire kingdom will as well. You know too well what will happen next."

Jefferson nodded and slumped down in a chair on the other side of the table as Gold took another drink. He made a face at the bitterness and gave the cup a suspicious look.

"Needs more sugar," he said, reaching for the small, covered bowl.

"Yes, well, I had to make it stronger. Again."

Gold glanced up at Jefferson before adding a larger than usual scoop of sugar to his cup. "I will be fine in a few days, then we can go back to normal."

He rubbed at his leg absently, and Jefferson shook his head. Gold was entirely too strong willed, which meant he wasn't about to do anything that wasn't his idea, even when it was in his own best interest. His leg had been troubling him since he returned from the palace, well over a week ago, and Jefferson didn’t dare make the specially brewed tea too strong. Gold’s tolerance had grown over the years, but dulling the pain didn’t solve the problem.

“If it’s not better by next week, then -”

Gold sighed again and set down his empty tea cup. “Then I’ll see the physician, this Dr. Whale, or whoever he is.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson said, gratefully. Then he stood and gathered up the tea set, pausing to give Gold’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “I hope it’s better, and you can tell me I told you so.”

Gold smiled up at him and nodded. “I’m sure it will be.”

They’d been fortunate that it hadn’t snowed again, and even warmed up for a day or two, allowing more of the outside work to get done, and more firewood and coal to be stockpiled. It also meant that Gold and Belle had been spending more time together, taking walks together around the grounds, which let him tell her all the stories of his efforts to refurbish Thornhill after he was gifted it by the King. The whole place had fallen into disrepair after years of being unoccupied, and the surrounding land had been left to grow wild. Even the farmland that bordered the estate was ill used and infested with all manner of ground vermin.

He’d spent a great deal of time restoring it, living in an empty tenant house down the road until it was finished, and then immediately started work on the grounds. The name of the estate, Thornhill, had come from the myriad rose bushes, thorny shrubs, and briars that grew on the land and in the nearby woods. The people who farmed the land in and around this particularly county had started calling it that as a joke, but Gold being the stubborn bastard that he was, kept it as a homage to what it once was and would never be again if he had anything to say about it.

Belle had listened with rapt attention, marveling at how beautiful everything had turned out. She even agreed that keeping the name was perfect, and the way she’d beamed up at him, the corners of her eyes wrinkled with amusement, made him forget what he was going to say. Every time they parted, whether it was because he needed to see to some business, or in the evenings when it was time to retire for the night, left him feeling strange. It used to be that he was thankful for the last quiet hour or two of the day, when it was just him and his thoughts.

Now those hours seemed almost lonely, and the snap of the fireplace was too loud in the room without the soft chatter of Bae and Belle going on in the background.

Gold sighed and pushed back from the table to stand up. Now that the tea was working, the pain had subsided, and he could walk without leaning on his cane like an old man. He lifted his coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on, pausing when he noticed that Jefferson had left one of the tea cups behind. He rolled his eyes, and picked it up, deciding that he would drop it by the kitchen before he was forced to close himself in his study and finish the monthly ledgers.

He walked to the door of the drawing room, reaching for the handle, but it opened without him touching it, and then immediately after Belle walked straight into his chest. They both staggered backwards, eyes wide and hands raised, and Gold had to catch himself with a hand on the wall to keep from falling over.

“Oh!” Belle exclaimed, stumbling as her left shoe came part way off. “I’m so sorry!”

Gold shook his head and pressed a hand to his chest where his heart was pounding harder than it had in some time. “It’s no matter. Are you alright?”

She wiggled her foot back into her shoe and nodded. “Yes, yes I’m fine.” Then she looked down at the floor between them and her face fell. “But I’m afraid your cup isn’t.”

He watched as she bent down and picked it up, confused until she straightened and held it up with both hands, her lips turned down in a small pout. “It’s chipped.”

Gold stepped closer and took her hands in his, holding them as he examined the damage to the tea cup. There was a small notch in the middle of the rim on one side, noticeable only because the chip disrupted the thin blue line that encircled it.

“You can hardly see it,” he said, meeting her eyes. She looked like a child who’d been caught doing something naughty, and she was looking at him as though he was meant to chastise her. His head tilted as he smiled at her. “It’s just a cup.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said, taking the cup from her hands. “There’s at least twenty sets in this house, we’ve cups to spare.”

She exhaled, relieved, and reached out to brush her finger over the chipped spot. “I suppose now it has character.”

“Sort of like its owner?” He grinned.

Belle gave him a look and then laughed. “Well, if you’re chipped it’s hardly my fault. I didn’t knock you to the floor.”

“No, I’m afraid that happened ages ago.” Then he sighed lightly. “If you’ll excuse me I need to return this to the kitchen.”

She followed him out of the room, and walked with him down the corridor towards the kitchen. “I was wondering if you might show me the stables today?”

Gold’s lips curved crookedly. “I would be delighted, but I’m afraid I have some work that needs attention first. Shall I come find you in the library after lunch?”

“How do you know I’ll be there?” Her eyebrows lifted, and he gave her a look that made her erupt in a delightful giggle, her blue eyes flashing brightly. “Yes, after lunch will be fine.”

He was grinning widely at her as she turned, brushing against him in the narrow space, and he reached out to touch the wall, feeling as though he might fall over again.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #in all things #my rumbelle fic #fic #31 days of fandomas #fandomas 2019

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luthienebonyx · 4 years

Note

For the fic questions meme, how about 1 and then--this will take ya way back--9 for "Her Rightful Place" (I love that story so much)

1. Of the fics you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

(You’re probably sorry you asked me this question. lol!)

For my current fandom, I think Beloved is the best story I’ve written, and the most ‘me’ story, too. I started writing in this fandom six months ago, and at that time I made the decision to just keep banging out the words and not agonise over them as I so often do. I’ve written an awful lot since then, but ever since I got to Beloved, I started going back to the REALLY emotionally complicated stuff that drives me crazy but also is the ultimate reason why I write at all. Beloved was the first of those, and, as I said, I think it’s the best.

As for my other fandoms, I have 130 works on the AO3, and that’s not everything I’ve ever written, so... *thinks hard*. I have a few fandoms in which I’ve written a single story, like The Devil Wears Prada, and The Good Wife, and those stand out in the memory for reasons other than that they were the only time I dipped my toe into the waters of those particular fandoms. But there are a couple of stories that are my obvious favourites within my most prolific fandoms so I’m going to indulge myself and talk about them:

The Rain Keeps Falling - HP, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, and probably the saddest story I’ve ever written. It’s only a couple of thousand words, but it was in my head for a year before I wrote it, while I tried to find a way to write it that didn’t include the major character death - keeping in mind that this was written around the time Book 5 first came out, so I didn’t know how the canon was going to turn out. But in the end I realised it was a story about grief, and so the major character death had to happen. I ended up writing it in just a few hours, and of everything I’ve ever written, I think it’s the story that turned out closest to the idea that I had in my head before I started writing. I got a lot of feedback on this story, and just about all of it said: “Your story made me cry.” And that makes me very proud, because it means that the story worked exactly the way it needed to.

Home - SGA, John Sheppard/Rodney Mckay. I don’t think I’ll ever love any character more than I loved John Sheppard. I spent years trying to work him out. He was so different on the inside than the outside, but trying to see behind that internal wall of his... Also, he was infuriating, because he knew big words but wouldn’t use them, so he limited my vocabulary when that didn’t need to happen. This was the last story I wrote for SGA fandom, and I think it’s the best. I certainly came closer to portraying John the way I wanted to than in anything else I wrote. It’s set on Earth post-series and it’s just... *pets John and apologises yet again for making him confront... stuff*

Plain Jane - OUAT, Rumple/Belle (rumbelle). This is a canon divergence that changes one very specific thing about the pilot episode, and then observes the fallout for two characters. The difference is that in this version, Belle was not locked up in the psych ward in Storybrooke while Rumple thought that she was dead. Instead, she and Rumple had lived out the years of the Curse in Storybrooke in a boring, unhappy, passionless marriage. Her name under the curse is Jane, so the story turns Beauty quite literally into Plain Jane.

The story is set the same day as the pilot episode, when Emma Swan arrives in town. As in canon, as soon as Mr Gold hears her name the curse lifts for him alone, and he remembers that he’s really Rumpelstiltskin - and in this story, the very next thing he does, of course, is to dash home because he can’t quite believe that Belle is actually alive. However, the story is told from Belle’s POV, and she doesn’t know she’s ever been anything other than Mr Gold’s dull little librarian wife. This is a very internal and emotionally intense story, and it’s told from the POV of the person who knows the least about what’s actually going on. It’s a very ‘me’ story, and I’m very happy with how it turned out.

9. Which idea came to you first in Her Rightful Place?

God, that takes me back quite a long way! As you know, but probably not many other people reading this do, Her Rightful Place is the one and only story I wrote in the Devil Wears Prada fandom. I wrote it for Yuletide one year, so my starting point was the request, which was for a story focusing on Emily. Since my recipient was a friend of a friend, I knew that Miranda/Andy was her main pairing, and so that brought me pretty quickly to the idea that it needed to be a bystander/outsider fic featuring Miranda/Andy but from Emily’s POV. But Emily being Emily, she doesn’t realise that she’s a bystander until the very end, so the story is very much a character study of her, and what she notices and DOESN’T notice.

I actually loved writing Emily’s POV. She’s one of the most individual and interesting POV characters I’ve ever done. As with so many stories that get written for Yuletide, this story would not exist if it hadn’t been for Yuletide. I’m really grateful for that, because the story is still a personal favourite.

10 Questions Every Fic Writer Secretly Wants to be Asked

#chainofclovers

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years

Text

Fic: Everything Money Can Buy (12/12)

Summary: The Greatest Store in the World AU. When misfortune strikes and leaves Emma Swan and her son homeless just before Christmas, the ever-resourceful Emma has a ready solution. They’ll move into Mills Department Store, a place they can only dream of affording to buy from. It’s not easy, having to deal with a perpetually grumpy doorman, a nasty assistant manager, and an extremely suspect Santa, but Emma and Henry soon learn that the kindness of strangers is something money can’t buy.

Swan Believer centric, with eventual Swan Queen and background Rumbelle and Dwarf Star.

Rated: G

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [AO3]

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Twelve

“So, that’s the way it all happened.”

Henry didn’t know how long he had been telling his tale to the policewoman and the social worker, both of whom were looking at him with expressions that he couldn’t quite work out. They were either completely disbelieving of everything that he had just said, or they believed it all and yet couldn’t quite believe that they believed it, or they believed him totally and were trying very hard not to laugh at all the antics that he and Emma had got themselves into over the course of the last few days whilst staying at Mills.

He looked from one to the other, and he began to think that it was probably the second option. He didn’t exactly have any reason to concoct such an elaborate lie, and although he had a very good imagination, he wasn’t sure that it would stretch to such things.

“Can I see my mum now?” he asked plainly.

“In a minute,” the policewoman said. “She’s giving her own statement, but she’ll be out soon.” She made a few official remarks and then stopped the tape. “I think that’s all that we need to talk about though, so you can go out and wait in the waiting area for her.”

Henry nodded and grabbed the polystyrene cup of hot chocolate that the social worker had given him when he had first begun his story. It was stone cold now; it seemed like he’d been in the police station for hours, but he didn’t want to leave it behind and look ungrateful.

The social worker led him out into the main waiting area, and even though Mum wasn’t there yet, Henry was incredibly glad to see that Belle, Gold, Astrid, and Leroy were all sitting around and none of them appeared to be wearing handcuffs.

“Henry!” Astrid jumped up, tripped over the coffee table stacked with back issues of magazines and flung her arms around him; Leroy reached out to grab the cup of chocolate before it went all over everywhere. Belle got up and joined in the hug.

“Are you all right?” Astrid was asking. Henry was half-convinced she was about to start patting him down for injuries, although what he could have sustained whilst sitting in a cramped little office for a couple of hours was beyond him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Have you seen Mum?”

There was a general consensus in the negative, and Henry began to get rather worried. At the end of the day, they had been trespassing in the store, and since Mum was the responsible adult of the two of them, she was the one who would have to be held accountable. At least the other staff who had helped them out didn’t seem to be being penalised in any way.

“Are you ok?” he asked the room at large.

“We’re all fine,” Belle said. “Not quite sure how fine we’ll be when Regina gets here, but even if she does fire us all on the spot, I don’t care. It’ll have been worth it to make sure that you two were all right. And to take down Zelena, of course.”

Gold chuckled. “I have to say that was certainly a highlight of the day. A very merry Christmas indeed.”

As macabre as the joke was, it still made Henry laugh, and he settled down between Astrid and Leroy to wait for Regina Mills, owner and impresario of Mills department store, to turn up. Or for Mum to be released, whichever came first. Astrid put an arm around him, and Henry was grateful for it, despite wishing that it was Mum instead.

To his immense relief, only a few minutes later, Mum came out of the next office. She also wasn’t wearing handcuffs, although she looked rather shaken. Henry jumped off his seat and bounded across to her, flinging his arms around her middle and refusing to let go. Maybe if he kept up this limpet hold on her then they would be completely unable to remove him, and they wouldn’t be separated by social services.

“It’s ok.” Mum held him close. “It’s ok, I’m here.”

“Are you going to stay here, though?” Henry mumbled to her sweater. “Are you going to have to go to prison?”

“No. But we’re not out of the woods just yet. It’s all going to depend on what Ms Mills says when she arrives.”

Henry, who had never met Regina Mills in all the time that they had spent in the store, was not at all mollified by this. What would happen if she decided to go ahead with the whole ‘trespassers will be prosecuted’ thing?

“Are we going to be separated?” he whispered.

Mum sighed. “I don’t know, Henry. I’m sorry. I wish I knew, but they didn’t tell me.”

Mum sat back down in the waiting area in Henry’s vacated seat, Astrid and Leroy moving up one so that Henry could perch beside her. He held onto Mum’s hand very tightly. For all he was ten years old, and for all Mum said that he was wise beyond his years, he felt very small, very young, and very frightened right now.

The time continued to tick by slowly. Although the four Mills employees were technically free to go, they were all staying, maybe out of some kind of unspoken solidarity with each other and with Henry and Mum, all of them waiting to stand alongside them when Regina Mills appeared.

“All right, will someone please tell me what’s going on here? Gold?”

Everyone in the waiting area leapt to their feet and started talking at the same time, apart from Mum. Henry himself had launched into the tale that he had just told the policewoman and social worker, but he broke off and stared at Regina Mills with the same dumbfounded expression that Mum had on her face.

Regina Mills was the brunette woman from the stairs, the one that Mum had developed just a little bit of a crush on, and it was clear that Regina was in just as much shock as Mum and Henry were, and that she wasn’t taking in any of what Belle, Gold, Astrid or Leroy were saying. Gradually, they all became aware of that too, and one by one, they trailed off, leaving the waiting area in silence.

“You.” Regina’s voice was soft, and, Henry thought, a little bit awestruck. There was no censure or accusation in it, just quiet wonder.

Mum waved awkwardly. “Erm, hi.”

“You’ve been living in my department store?” Regina shook her head in disbelief. “And I never noticed? Despite all the times I saw you in there? Despite us having an actual conversation?”

Mum shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I…” Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to need a minute.”

At this juncture, the other four began their vehement defence of Mum and Henry again, until Regina held up a hand sharply.

“Quiet!” Everyone obeyed without hesitation. “Since you four have been aiding and abetting with the trespassing and breaking and entering, I don’t want to hear another word out of any of you.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the waiting area, Henry reflected afterwards. The only sound was the sharp tap of Regina’s shoes as she paced up and down. Henry had been in some dicey situations in his time – he’d been in several since they’d started living in Mills – but he’d never felt the same kind of tension as he felt now. It was heavy and suffocating, everyone looking at each other and no one daring to speak despite the overwhelming need for some kind of reassurance, for someone to say that it was all going to be all right. The horrible truth of the matter was that no one did know if it was going to be all right.

At last, Regina stood still and looked over at Mum.

“I really don’t know what to say. A part of me really thinks that an example ought to be made, but at the same time, if it wasn’t for you being somewhere you shouldn’t, then my assistant manager would have got away with half the Cartier counter and none of us would have been any the wiser. And honestly, deciding to stay in the store to make sure that your son had a safe roof over his head over Christmas…”

“We’ll get new accommodation in the new year,” Mum pleaded. “This was only ever going to be a temporary arrangement; we didn’t have anywhere else to go…”

Regina nodded.

“No, I understand. I don’t think that there’s many people in the world who would have the courage and the sheer audacity do what you’ve done, Ms Swan. The unfortunate implications of it aside, it’s incredibly admirable.”

She looked around at her gathered employees, all of whom were looking rather nervous, but still defiant and rallying around Mum and Henry to the last.

“Thank you all for your swift action in helping bring down Zelena and Killian,” she said. “As for the other transgressions, well, since nothing has been taken and nothing has been damaged except in the pursuit of justice, I think that we can put this one down to experience and pretend it never happened.”

There was a visible, if not audible, sigh of relief in the waiting area, and Regina turned her attention back to Mum and Henry.

“That goes for you, too. I think I should be able to find you somewhere better to stay than the store until your new accommodation is ready.”

Henry was about to say that there was nowhere better than Mills, but wisely decided that it would not be a good idea to rock the boat when everything looked like it was going to turn out ok.

“In the meantime, would you perhaps like to join me for Christmas dinner?”

Henry and Mum just stared at each other, and then at Regina, and then back at each other.

“Are you serious?” Mum asked faintly.

“Well, it’s Christmas.” Regina gave a little shrug, and if Henry didn’t know better then he’d say that she was feeling just as nervous as they were. “And I happen to know an excellent shop where we can get all the ingredients for Christmas dinner at a terrific staff discount.”

“I… Surely you have your own family…” Mum was completely overwhelmed. Henry had never seen her like this before.

“Not really. You’re very welcome. As are you,” she added to Belle, Gold, Astrid, and Leroy, although they did seem a little like an afterthought.

“Thank you for the offer, but we’re all right,” Gold said.

“I don’t think that the turkey and potatoes are going to be much good having been in a cooling oven all day,” Belle pointed out, and any reply that Gold could have made was drowned out by a screech of alarm from Astrid.

“I LEFT THE OVEN ON!” she screamed, racing out of the police station without another thought for those left inside. Leroy made his apologies and rushed out after her, leaving Regina and Mum just staring after her whilst Henry tried his best not to laugh.

“Christmas dinner sounds great,” Mum said eventually.

It was the weirdest Christmas dinner that Emma had ever been to, but it was also by far the happiest. Regina didn’t pull any punches when it came to providing the best for her guests, and Emma didn’t think that she was going to need to eat for a week once she finished her helping of Christmas pudding.

They had all ended up in Regina’s townhouse in the end. Astrid’s turkey had burned to a cinder but she had thankfully not burned her flat down, and now she, Leroy and Henry were sitting in the living room watching Home Alone on the biggest widescreen TV that Emma had ever seen, the light from the Christmas tree illuminating them like a happy little family. Emma couldn’t help but smile. After everything that they had been through as just the two of them, it seemed so strange and so fortuitous that in their darkest hour, when they needed it most, they had found some more family, people whom they would never otherwise have ever come into contact with.

Gold had left the table halfway through the meal when his son had called him, and last Emma had seen, he was still talking, sitting on the stairs in the hall and smiling the biggest, happiest smile that Emma had ever seen on him. Once she’d got used to all his Christmas jumpers (today’s was Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer), and realised that he wasn’t half as standoffish as she’d always known him to be, she could see that he was really a softie on the inside, but worn down with hardship just as she and Henry had been. Emma was glad that he had Belle to bring some light into his life.

Speaking of Belle, she was in the kitchen brewing up her virgin mulled wine concoction with Mrs Lucas, Regina’s housekeeper who had been the source of the wonderful meal that they’d just eaten. Emma could hear the laughter from the dining room, and she allowed herself a giggle of her own. It was Belle who’d taken charge back in the yard once the police had arrived, and Emma was thankful that she had, fully believing that she might well have been spending the day behind bars if it hadn’t been for Belle’s intervention.

And then there was Regina, the only other person left in the dining room with Emma. They were eyeing each other up from opposite ends of the table, Emma could tell, even though they never quite managed to catch each other in the act. It had been all right when everyone else had been in here with them, but Emma had the distinct impression that Henry had shepherded Astrid and Leroy away purposefully in order to give his mother some time alone with her crush.

At least she got the feeling this time that it was mutual.

In the end, she decided to be bold. It was Christmas after all, and Regina had invited Emma and Henry for dinner, and more than likely to stay, since she’d promised them a better place than the store and as yet no mention had been made of where that was.

Emma got up and moved around the table to take the seat next to Regina that Mrs Lucas had occupied whilst they’d been eating.

“Thank you,” she began. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a Christmas like this one. I don’t know how Henry and I can even start to repay you for all that you’ve done for us today.”

Regina shrugged. “Just don’t make a habit of sleeping in my store, that’s all I ask. I’ll have to have words with the security guards about how they didn’t notice you for nearly a week. But then again, maybe not.” She smiled. “Maybe I ought to congratulate them instead. After all, it meant that I got to meet you properly. I’m sorry about my first impression.”

“I was never a huge believer in first impressions,” Emma said. “I didn’t exactly make a great one either, but I think we can move past that.”

Regina nodded. “Yes, I would like that.” She suddenly sprung up from her chair just as Emma was about to lean in a little closer. “I forgot something; when Gold and I went back to the store to pick up the things for dinner.”

She raced out of the dining room and returned a few moments later with the stocking that Emma had hung up for Henry the previous evening, the shabby parcels inside still intact.

“Gold found it outside your tent. I didn’t think that you would want Henry to go without his presents today, especially after all the, erm, excitement that you’ve had.”

Emma took the stocking, clutching it close to her chest. In all the ‘excitement’, she’d clean forgotten about it.

“It doesn’t look like much,” she said, looking around at her much more opulent surroundings.

“Nonsense. It’s from you, so Henry will love it. I may only have known you for a little while, but I can see just how deeply you two love each other.”

“We only have each other.” Emma paused. “Well, we only had each other, for a long time. Maybe now we’ve got a few more people as well.”

There was silence in the dining room, the sounds from the rest of the house fading into the background.

“I think I’d like to be one of those people, if you’ll have me,” Regina said softly.

Emma nodded. “Absolutely.”

She leaned in then, feeling Regina’s warm lips brush her cheek and the corner of her mouth. It was the beginning of something, something that Emma had not felt or wanted in a long time, but that she was definitely not averse to now.

As she got up to go and give Henry his Christmas presents, she felt the world’s biggest grin beginning to steal over her face.

Despite all the odds, at this grimmest point in her life, her faith in the kindness of strangers had been restored, and despite all the luxury that Mills had to offer, she knew that it was something that money couldn’t buy.

No matter what happened in the new year, Emma knew that with new friends and new love around her, it would most certainly be a happy one.

#swan believer #swan believer fic #Emma Swan #Henry Swan #Regina Mills #Swan Queen #rumbelle #dwarf star #Fic: Everything Money Can Buy #Last Chapter

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b-does-the-write-thing · 5 years

Text

Teach Us Something Please

I was deeply honored (and terribly excited) to get @thestraggletag for Secret Santa this year. I really wanted to write something worthy of my deep admiration for you and I hope it comes through in this little (okay not so little as usual I got carried away) Hogwarts Professor AU.

It has a lot of callouts to the books and I formatted it to fit the same story structure so I hope you enjoy it! Happy Rumbelle Christmas in July, straggle. Sincerely, one of your biggest fans.

(Note: I did not get to brit-pick this as well as I would have liked so if you see something, say something and I’ll update!)

Chapter One: Summer

June

There was a light deep in the heart of the Forbidden Forest.

In this forgotten place, there were trees older than most civilizations but it had been eons since anything unknown to them had strayed this far into their dominion. Around them, the night was ripe and ready, potent with promise. It was just minutes from midnight and magic hung in the air as tangible as a summer berry ready to be plucked.

A branch creaked as a tree leaned closer to get a better look. The light spun, illuminating the inquisitive tree, but also revealing a witch’s young, pale face.

Her eyes were as bright as the bluejay’s breast.

Her hair a rich brown, the same shade as the maple wand she held in her hand.

Satisfied the creak had not foretold danger, the witch turned to continue forward, following the protected path deeper and deeper into the woods. As she arrived at a grove of aspens, the witch faltered for a moment, pausing to dig out a small book from her robes. Though there was no breeze, their silver leaves shivered and shook as the trees chatted amongst themselves. Nearby, a river gurgled and bubbled in interest.

Her wand tip lowered to the pages, revealing a scrawled map. The map was still, save for one small dot that was moving rapidly across the page. Keeping the book in one hand, the witch threw a cautious look over her shoulder before she carefully placed her wand in the palm of her hand. “Point me,” she whispered.

The wand hurried to obey. It spun once, twice, three times before it jerked to a stop sixty degree to her right. Well off the path. With a weary sigh, the witch continued onward, casting occasional glances to her right but keeping the octavo open in her hand.

Bound in black leather and stitched with golden thread, at first glance, the book looked like any other Hufflepuff memoir. Perhaps why it had been left undisturbed for over a century, hidden in plain sight amongst the other books in the library.

As the Hogwart’s librarian, Belle French had numerous obligations to the school. First and foremost to make sure its students were safe. Books could be very dangerous things, and even the most unassuming book could cause lasting harm to the unwary. After all, knowledge was a dangerous thing.

The book in her hand was an excellent example. If Belle had not been searching for some light reading on Bridget Wenlock, she may not have ever noticed the small book. It had been nestled in amongst the countless Helga Hufflepuff biographies and Belle had assumed that was what it was as well. That was until she had lifted it to get a better view and felt the tingle of dark magic race down her spine.

Pushing cautiously through the overgrown branches barring the path, Belle was careful to keep on the trail. Robin had warned what might happen if she stepped so much of a toe out of the protective wards. He had wanted to go with her, but the book was clear: only a winged maiden of sound mind would be able to seek and find.

Seek and find were the words of the book. A winged maiden could have meant anything but Belle suspected it meant a daughter of Ravenclaw. She was not descended from the line but she had been sorted into the house. She hoped that would be enough. As of sound mind… she felt far from sane at the moment.

“Are you sure about this?” Professor Lucas had demanded when Belle had started asking questions about the forest. The Care of Magical Creatures Professor knew all too well what lurked in the forest during the full moon.

The attack had been two summers ago now. Ruby had been lucky to escape with her life. While parents had not been keen on a werewolf teaching their children, Headmistress Ghorm had pointed out there was hardly a better-suited teacher for the role. Thus, Professor Lucas had been allowed to stay, with some safety measures in place.

As if sensing her thoughts, there was a howl in the distance. In answer, a branch broke nearby as something hurtled through the underbrush. Belle froze, waiting until it had passed. After several long minutes, when nothing stirred, she began again, but her heart was thudding sickeningly in her chest.

She walked on for what felt like hours, occasionally stopping to check the map. The dot on the map had come to a stop up ahead but she was still a fair ways away and the path was overgrown and slick. Belle had cloaked her steps to make no noise but her feet were sore and her back grew tight. She was pressing on- when all at once, the path stopped.

A great tree had fallen across the path. The trunk was nearly seven feet high on its side. Belle considered it for a moment. She could easily levitate over it or remove it from the path entirety but she suspected that was exactly what something wanted her to do. Upon closer inspection, she saw the tree had been recently felled. She hoped and despaired all at once.

Steeling her spine, she spoke into the wind. “I seek the one who sees all,” she said to the gloom surrounding her. “Let the seer be seen.”

The wind rustled the branches, and for a moment, the only answer was the shivering of leaves. Belle bent her head back to the book, murmuring a sharp “Lumos.”

The tip of her wand flared brightly as a torch, illuminating not only the map but the face of something reptilian and cruel which sat crouched at her feet. Belle would have shot backward, and nearly did so, before she recalled nothing could hurt her on the path.

Still, she trembled when she lifted her wand out towards the creature to find it safely outside the path’s border. Belle released the breath she had been holding when it stood, revealing it to be more man than creature.

“You would look upon the seer,” it hissed. “Look your fill and then release me. I have my own business this eve that does not pertain to you, child.”

Belle’s fingers were thick and clumsy as she raised her free hand to the neckline of her robe. Slowly, she pulled at the chain at her neck until it fell free, revealing what appeared to be a small charm. It was shaped like a crooked lightning bolt but on closer inspection was a dagger. It was heavier than it should be and cold as ice against her skin despite the warm night air and her evening exertion.

An artifact of untold power with the only clue to its purpose the single word etched into its surface. Few wizards or witches would have recognized it for what it was, but Belle had delved deep into the tomes detailing the darkest of arts. When it had fallen out of the octavo’s pages, Belle had suspected it for what it was the darkest of dark magic.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” Belle said, faltering slightly as she recited the unfamiliar word writ upon the dagger. “I name you.”

A crooked smile revealed jagged, yellow teeth. “As did my mother.”

“Dark powers are gathering. War is coming.”

“It is already here,” the creature told her cheerfully. “And it will fall upon Hogwarts before the next summer solstice.”

It was as if he was stating a fact and not the end of the world as she knew it. Belle lifted her chin. “I have need of a seer. Need of you, the one connected to the Darkness but unbent to its will. I have sought you out to free you from your binds.”

“And how do you know I am what you say I am?”

Belle held up the book. It had been vague in details in some places, but rich in others. It had spoken of the seer, a creature tainted by the Darkness, bound to the Forbidden Forest.

Belle bit the inside of her cheek. “I am here to seek and find-”

“Seek and find?” he began to laugh. “All you have found is death. I see your end, child. Alone. Afraid. Surrounded by books. Blood seeping into their pages. You are still. You do not move.”

If he thought to scare her with foretellings of death, he misjudged her. “So, I will not die here tonight at your hands,” she said with a grave nod. “Good. Then, we can speak frankly.”

Belle transfigured a nearby branch into a chair. “Tell me how you came to be bound to the Darkness.”

He raised a clawed talon to his breast, raking the sharp claws down his scaled chest as he considered her. There were remnants of leather hide clinging to his arms and shoulders but they were in tatters, shredded. Belle wondered how long he had been out here.

“Four centuries,” he answered, golden eyes unblinking. “As for my origins, I sought protection from the Darkness by joining with it and found more than I had bargained. I found power beyond telling, a power that meant I would never be afraid again. The cost was madness.”

“You don’t seem insane to me.”

He cackled as he sank back down into a crouch. “Says the child who wandered into the woods alone. Haven’t you ever heard of what happens to maidens who enter the Forbidden Forest?”

“I am no maiden,” Belle said curtly. “Now, as I was saying-”

“Where did you find that?” He gestured to the book which was now open in her lap.

“That would be telling,” Belle responded just as blithely. “Why do you want to know?”

Without warning, his hand shot out as if to grab for her. Belle leaned backward, nearly toppling over in her transfigured chair. His talons stopped just shy of her.

He was grinning. “I am tied to that damnable piece of steel. I have searched every inch of this forest. I have dug through the dirt, broken stones, climbed to the top of trees. I have plundered the bottom of the Black Lake and for not. A spell has been placed upon it, binding me to this land. Even if I wished to join the gathering Darkness, I could not so long as that dagger remained out of my possession. So, I will ask you again, where did you find it, child?”

“I am not a child,” Belle snapped, losing her patience as usual. “I am the head librarian of Hogwarts-”

“The library!” Rumpelstiltskin hissed. “A dirty trick. He knew I could not cross the castle’s wards.”

“Who knew?” Belle was annoyed at herself for giving it away, even unintentionally. She would have to be more careful.

“My son,” he spat. “All I did, I did for him. But he could not see past what I had become. He bound me here, left me here to rot.”

Belle swallowed. “Then, attend me well. I have a deal for you.”

“Oh?” He sidled closer. “ I like deals. What shall it be? You wish for freedom. To see the world. You wish for knowledge. You thirst for adventure. You long for something more-”

“This is not about me,” she snapped, afraid of what he might reveal. “This is about the fate of the wizarding world.”

“Spare me,” he said with a shake of his head. “It is none to me what happens to it. I ceased caring long ago, child.” He gestured to his tattered clothing. “I have my problems.”

“Then, I have a beneficial solution for us both. Come teach at Hogwarts,” she proposed.

“Teach?” he hooted. “Teach what, child? The Dark Arts?”

“Divination,” Belle replied as the pieces fell into place. “Our divination professor foresaw her death and fled. The students leave for summer term shortly. Come on the first of July. If you swear no harm shall come to anyone who calls Hogwarts home, the wards will be open to you.”

“And why would I want to do that?” he snarled. Saliva dripped down from his curled lip. “You would have me swap one cage for another,” he murmured. “A nicer cage, true, but a cage nonetheless. Give me freedom.”

Freedom would allow the seer to return to the Darkness from which its power originated. And with a seer as powerful as the creature before her...whose very existence thrummed and hummed with secrets of the past, present and what would be...if Belle freed this being from its binds, she would condemn all of wizardkind.

Belle shook her head. “I cannot do that.”

“You could,” it sang, sliding back into the shadows.

Belle took a risk. “It very well might be swapping one cage for another, but this cage has running water.”

Rumpelstiltskin scoffed.

Belle pressed on. “If there is to be a battle, you may do as you like, fight or flee back to the forest. All I ask in return is that you give us counsel. Warn us of what you see.”

Warn you? Very well. I’ve seen you,” he said quietly. All traces of insanity and monstrosity vanished. “If you offer your hand to me, I will take it. But,” he held up a finger and wagged it at her. “Once I take it, you will never be free of me.”

Belle cocked her head to the side. It did not sound like a threat...more of a warning. “I’ve come all this way,” she told him. “If my freedom is the cost of knowledge, so be it.”

She reached her hand out across the path border.

When his scaled fingers curled over her’s, they were warm.

July

A cup of lukewarm tea was cradled in her hands. Belle had barely touched it, too caught up in searching the forest line, waiting with bated breath for Rumpelstiltskin to emerge. She had been waiting since morning. Hours had passed and now the light was fading as the sun started to sink in the western sky.

It had been a long two weeks. She had emerged from the Forbidden Forest the morning of the Summer Solstice and gone straight to the Headmistress. Reul Ghorm was one of the most powerful witches in the wizarding world as well as the wisest but it took all of Belle’s collective powers of persuasion, stubbornness and determination to get the Headmistress to agree to let the seer into the castle, much less award him a role on the teaching staff.

In the end, Belle had not been completely forthright. She had shared the book, told the story of her encounter with the Seer in the forest, and shared her plans to use his powers to continue to protect Hogwarts. But she had left out his true name and the matter of the dagger currently hanging around her neck.

Footsteps approached from around the back of the groundskeeper’s hut. She turned to find a wizard standing over her, but not the one she was expecting.

Robin hoisted his son, Roland, upon his hip and nodded toward the untouched cup in her hand. “My tea’s not that bad, is it?”

“Bad tea, Daddy,” the toddler insisted, struggling to get down.

Belle shook out of her reverie and stood. She murmured a wordless apology as she swapped the teacup for Roland, gathering the boy in her arms. His curls, so like his mother’s, tickled her nose. A rush of sorrow washed over her as she thought of Marian. She would have understood.

To hide the sadness in her eyes, Belle pressed a kiss to Roland’s forehead, and the boy giggled. “Down, Belle!” he begged but she didn’t dare let him down to run, no matter how much he wiggled and whined.

The sound of someone else approaching caused her heart to jump up into her throat. But the figure was coming from the castle, not the woods, draped in a familiar red cloak. “No sign?” Ruby called out as she neared the hut.

Belle shook her head. She should have known Rumpelstiltskin would keep her waiting. If he was even coming at all-

“Do you have such little faith in me?” came Rumpelstiltskin’s voice from behind her.

Roland took one look at the scaled creature and began to wail. Robin had his wand in his hand in an instant but Rumpelstiltskin waved a lazy hand and the wand skittered out of Robin’s grip and flew high and far out of range. For a horrible moment, it looked as if Robin meant to tackle Rumpelstiltskin, who was already grinning nastily.

“You will do no harm to those who call Hogwarts home!” Belle reminded him over Roland’s terrified cries.

Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth at her just as Ruby’s spell hit him square in the chest. He froze before teetering backward to crash across the kitchen table at his back. Cookery went everywhere as the petrification totalus spell kept the Dark One from twitching so much as a muscle to stop his fall.

“Ruby!” Belle cried out as the Gryffindor came charging to the rescue. She accio-ed Robin’s wand as she charged past Belle into the hut. Belle couldn’t get to her wand to stop them, not with a screaming Roland nearly choking her in his terror. Small bursts of magic were emanating from the toddler, which could turn dangerous quickly. “Stop! He wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

At her exclamation, Robin and Ruby paused in the doorway, between her and Rumpelstiltskin. The two Gryffindors considered the creature bound on the floor but they did not sheath their wands.

Belle pushed past them, handing the sobbing Roland to his father. “Take him outside,” she murmured, patting the boy’s back as he clutched at Robin’s shoulders.

The groundskeeper looked as if he might argue but he only cast one last look at the creature on his hut’s floor, surrounded by shards of wood and pottery before he did as she suggested. Belle could hear him murmuring platitudes as he attempted to calm Roland down.

Belle knelt among the ruins of the table, careful to keep her face in clear view. The dagger free from her robe’s neckline “Rumpelstiltskin,” she greeted. “Took you long enough.”

“Belle,” Ruby wheedled, clearly frustrated. “This doesn’t feel right. We should get Mary Margaret. ”

Belle didn’t need a host of well-intentioned Gryffindors telling her what to do. “Give me a minute,” she said over her shoulder. When Ruby did not move from the doorway, she sighed and stood. “Ruby, please,” she said quietly, though she did not doubt Rumpelstiltskin could hear every word. “You said you’d trust me on this.”

“I trust you,” Ruby said, looking over her. “I don’t trust that thing.”

“Ruby,” Belle said softly, hearing the loathing in Ruby’s voice. “He’s not the creature that bit you.” Her hands were gentle as she laid them upon Ruby’s right forearm.

The witch wrenched her arm away, holding it protectively. “Could have been one of his pets,” she argued. “That’s just what I mean, Belle. It’s evil.”

Belle did not feel much like arguing. She had her doubts about all of this, but it did not change the facts. They had sent the students home across Great Britain and every day she woke wondering which ones may not come back.

“He can help,” was all she said.

“Yes, because he’s a great and powerful seer,’ Ruby mocked. “He doesn’t seem all that powerful if he didn’t even see a second-year level spell coming straight at him.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Belle whispered, all too aware he could hear every word. “Don’t you remember anything from Divination classes?”

Ruby bristled. “I’ve been more interested in astronomy these days, so forgive me if I don’t recall the intricacies of fortune-telling.” She brandished her hands out at Belle, palms facing upwards. “Remind me. Where’s the line that says I was going to turn into a bloodthirsty animal every month for the rest of my life?”

Belle’s temper flared. “You went out into the woods to find what was killing the unicorns. No one made you-”

“I went out there to stave off the Darkness from encroaching into Hogwarts-”

“And I did the same exact thing!” Belle finished breathlessly. “I went out in the woods, the same as you, for the same reason.”

There was no more time to cross one’s fingers and hope for the best. They had to defend themselves, defend Hogwarts. With knowledge. With foresight. With whatever they could.

“I had to at least try. We,” she added. “We have to at least try. I’m not saying you have to like this...but access to a true seer...one linked with the Darkness but not bent to it? It’s not much...but it’s more than we had before.”

Ruby stared at the creature on the floor for a long, long moment. Finally, she nodded but she wouldn’t meet Belle’s eyes. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Belle.”

Me too, Belle thought miserably but she managed a smile. “Go help Robin?” she suggested gently. Outside, Roland’s crying was only growing louder and pops of what sounded like fireworks were starting to go off.

Ruby disappeared back out into the warmth of the early evening, leaving Belle alone with Rumpelstiltskin. Her hand went to the dagger around her neck, a constant chill against her skin.

Taking a deep breath, Belle turned to kneel back down beside the seer but she did not take off Ruby’s spell, not yet. His eyes were calculating, something hidden deep in their depths. “I hope you can help,” she said quietly. “Merlin’s beard, I hope you can help.”

She murmured “finite” and braced herself for an attack, physical or magical but none came.

Rumpelstiltskin merely raised himself to a sitting position and took a look around the hut. “What a sty,” he grumbled and with a casual wave of his left hand, everything straightened around them. The shattered table repaired itself, the crockery mending. The sink suddenly splashed to life, submerging the dirty dishes in soapy water as the soot started to scoot across the floor and out the door.

“His wife died last fall,” Belle said as she got to her feet. “She went to Diagon Alley for a pixie deterrent for the pumpkin patch. She didn’t come back.”

Belle offered a hand to help him up but the Seer did not take it. He rose to his own feet in a graceful motion, dusting off his leather breeches as if he had not been utterly at her mercy moments ago. “Explains his less than hospitable hosting skills.”

“He’s had a rough time of it.”

“And what’s the werewolf’s excuse?” he grumbled.

“She gets a bit...snappy around the full moon,” Belle said with a shrug. “We’ve gotten used to it.”

His strange golden eyes flickered to the sunlight where the two Gryffindors stood. They were both waving their wands so hundreds of colorful bubbles billowed out of the tips. Roland ran between them, his head thrown back in laughter as he rushed one way than the other.

“Everyone here has a story of being touched by the darkness,” Belle added quietly.

His eyes turned back to her. “And your story?”

Belle hesitated, just for a moment. “Ask me again at the end of this year,” she said quietly. “Come on, I’ll take you up to the castle. We set up rooms in the Divination Tower.”

August

The Charms professor was mad as a hatter.

That was the only reason Rumpelstiltskin could think of for why Jefferson had taken to coming to his office every day when most of the Hogwarts staff had decided to steer clear of him. All but the Charms Professor, the castle’s healer, and of course the librarian.

Rumpelstiltskin stood at the window, looking out across the Black Lake. The Giant Squid propelled along the surface, basking in the summer light as it had done for the past century. Behind him, Whale was reading the paper while Jefferson lounged on his back, spinning his hat idly round and round his finger.

“Someone spilled the beans,” Whale whistled as he folded the Daily Prophet and flung it over at Jefferson. The Slytherin caught it and flipped it open in one smooth motion without so much as missing a beat.

Rumpelstiltskin glanced over at the paper, and the photograph of a bombed-out building stared back at him. Flames flickered in black ink, the moment captured on magical film to be replayed over and over again for all of time. He turned away from it, back towards the sun, lifting his face to enjoy the Scottish summer breeze wash over him.

This he knew. This is he remembered. He had not forgotten the ways of wizardkind but a lot had changed since his Hogwarts days. He had spent the entirety of July ensconced in the tower reading whatever the Librarian had brought him and still wasn’t caught up.

Belle, a voice whispered in his head. Her name is Belle

She had not given him her name but he had heard it upon the lips of the others. Until she gave it to him herself, he would continue to call her the Librarian.

It had been what he had called her before he had known her.

He had known her the instant he had laid eyes upon her on the summer solstice. He had even warned her...and still, the foolish, brave girl had given him her hand. Sealing their fates.

How often had he seen her in his visions? The bright light at the end of the dark, long tunnel of his existence. He had seen their future, saw their lives entwined in ways he had not thought possible. His destiny stamped as clear as the printed word upon her fair face but he could not find the courage to give that truth voice. So, he told her of the other things he had seen: Her death. The fall of Hogwarts. Everything she was scared of.

But he left out the other parts. For those were the things that scared him.

Lost in his thoughts, he did not notice the first owl that flew by the window or the second. It may have been the fourth or even fifth owl he finally saw, but soon the entire sky was full of them. His brow furrowed at the flurry of wings. Jefferson joined him at the window, wordlessly handing him the paper.

The paper was opened to the headline “Newest Divination Teacher: Monstrous Minion of Darkness”. The article went on to explain in graphic detail how he had supposedly run off the old Divination Teacher (a young woman named Astrid Nova) and took her place, bewitching Headmistress Reul Ghorm and bending her to his will.

He tossed it aside. Ghorm had already been bent to the Darkness’s will. Even if she did not yet know it. He did not know how the Librarian had convinced that one to let him cross the castle boundary, but he suspected it was only a matter of time before the Darkness in the headmistress's heart overwhelmed her. He could see the shadows on her face whenever she gazed at him, considering, wondering. She would come to him by the end of the year with her questions.

There was a knock at the trap door. Ever polite, his Librarian. He waved a hand and the trap door flipped open for her to emerge with her daily peace offering, a tray of tea. “Master Whale,” she greeted as Victor took the tray from her. “Professor Jefferson.”

“The Dragon was just telling me my fortune,” Jefferson said with a sorrowful grin.

The Librarian knew all too well what his fortune entailed. Day after day, Jefferson only asked Rumpelstiltskin the same question. “And how does your Grace fair today?”

“Thriving,’ Jefferson answered proudly, though his sad smile did not brighten.

Jefferson and his family had encountered the Darkness early in its rise. After Jefferson had barely survived the attack that had claimed his wife, he had sent his only daughter to the continent to attend Beauxbatons, praying it would be far enough. She had not spoken to him since, nearly three years

“And you, Master Whale?” Belle asked, though not as warmly.

It was clear that the Librarian did not quite trust Whale’s interest in him. Rumpelstiltskin could have told her that Whale had lost a brother years ago and had kept his body in the hopes of finding some magic strong enough to reanimate him, to bring him back. But he doubted that would do much to alleviate her suspicions. The healer was harmless. For now.

“Happy to be here,” Victor responded flippantly. “But like all good things, my time with you all has come to an end. The Nolans are stopping by the infirmary for an informal check-up.”

The Defense against the Dark Arts professor and her husband were expecting their first. They had been going to St. Mungo’s but with the rise of violence in London, it did not surprise him that they had opted to stay closer to Hogwarts.

Rumpelstiltskin exposed his fangs in a grimacing smile. He did not care much for Mary Margret Nolan. She had been the most vocal against him taking residence in the castle and been a thorn in his side ever since. “Send along my congratulations,” he said as Victor started to descend the spiral staircase. “Emma is a lovely name.”

The Librarian sighed. “They were going to have it be a surprise,” she chastised him as Victor’s laughter floated back up to them.

“Oh?”

He wasn’t fooling her but he had come to enjoy teasing the smile out of her, it was happening more and more frequently these days, which should have worried him.

Jefferson cleared his throat. “I’ll go and give Leroy a hand with the owls,” he said with a tip of his hat. The trapdoor swung shut behind him, leaving the two of them alone.

“Owls?” she echoed in confusion. Rumpelstiltskin nodded towards the paper on the table. The Librarian picked it up, scanned the headline and groaned. “Curse her,” she muttered, tucking her hair behind her ear. He watched her from beneath his curtain of hair. The Librarian always wore her hair pulled back in a ponytail, using whatever scrap of ribbon was at hand, but tendrils always escaped to fall about her face. “I’m going to wring her neck for this. She knows how important you being here is-”

There was little love lost between the defense teacher and the librarian but he had not expected such violence on his behalf. “Pregnancy does strange things to the mind,” he said, remembering all too well his own wife’s pregnancy and the mood swings that had accompanied it back in the days before modern medicine’s miracles. “It matters not,” he said even as more owls flew by. “Hogwarts is still the safest place in England. Those who do not send their children put them at great peril.”

The Librarian poured a cup of tea, absently sending it floating over to him as she began to pour another. “I hope I was right about all this,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

He could have told her she was. That her destiny had been written long before she had been born, that she was following a path already laid out for her. But then she would ask him too many questions. He had did not always know when, just what would be.

So, he said nothing.

She let the paper drop to the table and sat in Jefferson’s vacated chair. Her fingers went to her throat, idly playing with the necklace hidden beneath her robes. “Why do you wear that?” he asked as he sat down across from her. “Inanimate magical objects can be dangerous things.”

“I’ve heard,” Belle said drily as her hand fell back to her lap. “I thought it better to keep it close than to risk it falling into the wrong hands.”

Rumpelstiltskin had thought the same thing. He could still remember the splitting pain...the emptiness that had never left him. To this day, he could feel the hole where his soul had been ripped away.

They didn’t say much after that. They took their tea in silence as owl after owl flew across the summer sky.

Read the rest on A03

#Rumbelle Christmas in July #Rumbelle Christmas in July 2019 #thestraggletag #rumbelle fanfic

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sieben9 · 6 years

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“a tale of two sisters” impressions

{Quick request to anyone reading: I’m watching OUaT for the first time, and I want to avoid spoilers. So, if you want to discuss something spoilery, I’d be grateful if you could start a new post for that. Thank you!}

New season! [insert very tempting Galavant joke]

Some good, some meh, some excellent; overall a very fun episode, I'd say. For me, I mean; not many other people seemed to have fun.

Starting with her. That "villain reveal" kind of fizzled, didn't it? Not that I mind all that much, but now I'm worried about who is going to do the actual villain-ing. Hans doesn't seem to be around, at least.

Some thoughts and speculations under the cut.

So, while the Frozen-flashbacks and the giant monster-snowman were obviously in focus for most of the episode, all of that seems more like buildup than anything else. OK, Else came out of the urn from the past, and she doesn't know where Anna is, but Rumple has Anna's necklace, which Else knew to look for in his shop. Oh, and she clearly knows him on sight, presumably as the Dark One.

they already sneak off into the woods in the middle of the night and somehow the press still notices

Though again, Rumple, I do have to ask: why do you keep women in urns in your basement? Is this something we should talk about? Anyway, now she's here and creating murder-snowmen left right and centre. Let's hope they do find Anna; she seems to be good at handling that.

Meanwhile, Emma may have decided not to run away from her family, but she's very much still running from Hook. Seems like that passionate kiss last time was in fact too much, too soon. Good. I'd have liked it better if the framing wasn't pushing the "ha ha, silly woman cannot admit that she likes him" angle, but still good.

Honestly, the real drama in her life seems to be happening somewhere else, anyway.

...OK. So, I have rules in place for this arc. One of them is that I do not get more then one Frozen-joke per three episodes. Believe me, I know myself and it's better this way. So, with that said:

"do you wanna build a snowman?"

"ok, bye."

(And yes, that scene in the first picture is a very good one, and I have some more thoughts on that, but short version: I’m very interested to see where the Emma/Regina relationship goes this season.)

So. Regina is not taking Marian's return well. I'm... still kind of "?" about her reaction towards Emma. She saved someone's life. This had nothing to do with you, friend. Can you please stop acting like this was some malicious ploy to ruin your life

...no, not like that. Wrong way, please turn around when possible.

::sigh:: Goddamnit, Regina.

I'll have to say: I was really glad when she decided not to go the Zelena route of travelling back in time to kill the person who stands in her way. And that scene with the mirror (hi, Sidney, by the way, sorry to see where you've been all this time) was heartbreaking and very to the point. She didn't even have to say anything. Just her face while watching her old self ("I'm not that person anymore") gleefully condemning Marian to death was enough. Yes, she really did work hard not to be the Evil Queen any longer. She no longer plays the part of the villain--and that's why she goes and saves Marian, later on.

Good. Because I have vivid memories of a certain speech in a certain barn, and let's say I'm glad I didn't have to drag that up. Well done. Mostly.

And then, slightly to the left of all the other fairly interconnected stories, you have the Rumbelle plot. Now, some of you may be worried that after the wedding-freakout last time, you'll have to endure a honeymoon-freakout on my part this time around. And you're right. But that's for later. First is a scene that I at once really wanted, but also really feared.

wow, weird, it's raining over my desk again.

Yeah. Man stands at the grave of his only child. There's... really no way to make this less bleak, especially since I'm still quietly angry that Neal died in the first place. But I'm glad that we have this scene. I'm glad he's allowed to grieve in peace, and that it gives us a glimpse into Rumple's thoughts at this time. He really does want to do this right, and he presumably took the dagger to "tie up" that one loose end (read: Zelena) before turning over a new leaf. And even if he will always feel the loss of his son (really, how could he not), I got at least the impression that he was going to try and live a life beyond that. (I really wish there had been more of a time jump between seasons, because all of this is still incredibly soon and fresh and uncomfortably close together, but I'll just have to accept that TV time is not like real time)

OK, heavy stuff over. Have a giggly Belle in a car.

look at these ridiculous dorky would-be housebreaker...

And now, the freakout:

!!!

Look at them! Look at these poor idiots who have been through so much hell, and now they get to be just happy for once! They are so giddy and in love and it was wonderful. ::happy shipper sigh::

I'm just deeply worried that Rumple will, well, Rumple it all up again because of that stupid hat in the living room. ::sigh:: Look, buddy, just tell her. Whatever is going on with the Galaxy Hat there, I'm sure you can talk about it.

...yeah, I don't think that's what's going to happen.

#ouat #once upon a time #a tale of two sisters #sieben watches ouat #sieben talks #i promise not every post is going to be 40% rumbelle #but right now...#look my otp got married #that's like winning the fandom lottery #let me squee for a bit

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scribbles-by-kate · 6 years

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Series rewatch thoughts - 2.1 “Broken”

One of the fun trademarks of the show through the seasons has been the unfamiliar opening: how we start off each season or half season in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar characters, and we have to learn how they connect to the main story. It’s a fun way to make things fresh each season. I suppose it’s less intriguing when you know who the characters are than it was when we saw the show for the first time, but it’s still nice to revisit that.

I love seeing Bae again. I notice that he seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. Poor guy’s not happy, and then he gets the postcard, and you can’t tell at all what he’s thinking. We probably knew he was connected to the Enchanted Forest, but I wonder if people guessed how.

I confess, I have far less interest in the Aurora/Philip/Mulan story this time around, because all the amazing potential that was there was squandered. I thought it was so interesting that Aurora realised Mulan loved Philip too, and how undirected his I love you was. I wish they had gotten back to that. Mulan is still a bad ass, though, and I love what she says about love being sacrifice. I think she may be the first character to say that. And going back to the idea that you have to curse yourself willingly, I couldn’t remember if Aurora had, but now I think she did.

I think the Snow/Emma/Charming stuff is so well done. I love Ginnifer and Jennifer’s reactions. All that messy tension between moving from a friendship relationship to being mother and daughter is really good. I still think something was lost, though, when they made that abrupt transition. I wonder how it would have been if it had been more gradual, like if Emma believed, but the curse wasn’t broken yet. She’d know Mary Margaret was her mother, so her attitude would shift, but they’d still be friends too, so it would be a slower progression. Oh, well, you can’t have everything. It’s inevitable something would be lost when the curse was broken at the end of season one.

Costuming question: why does Emma change her jacket before they go to Rumple? Why not leave the red jacket on? I suspect something might have happened to it. Maybe it got torn and had to be repaired or something…

Also, Leroy, the reason you’re all still here is because that’s how Rumple wanted it. No sense breaking the curse taking them all home if his son is in this land.

Everyone going after Regina makes total sense. It’s also kind of interesting that Emma’s the one saying they’re not murderers. All I have to say to that is, yes, when it suits you not to be. As we see in later seasons, Emma has no moral high ground to stand on, at all.

But even the fight with David about letting Regina die was good, because we see that Emma actually listened to Henry’s wishes for Regina, so she cared about his feelings. And I like Snow’s surprise at hearing Emma say Regina’s not going to die. She’s surprised by the child she never got to raise. I wonder if she’s surprised that she turned out to be a noble person. She seems impressed anyway.

I love Regina’s moments of humanity where Henry is concerned. She smiles at Emma when Emma confirms that Henry asked her to spare her, and she’s totally putty in Henry’s hands when he asks her to bring his mom and grandma back to prove she’s changed, and to leave everyone alone. Henry is to Regina what Belle is to Rumple: the one person who turns her to mush, who can soften her heart.

A few things about Regina, though: why did she lie about knowing Jefferson? Did she really believe the lands were gone, since she wanted to create a portal to go back last season? And did she guess that Emma had magic when her touch made the hat work? I’m not sure we get answers to these, but…

And speaking of Belle and Rumple, I just love that talk by the well and the kiss. I love his outrage as well, because they could’ve been together all those years. He might have done many things differently when he woke up with Emma’s arrival if he’d had Belle to go home to, even a Belle who didn’t know who she truly was. They were deprived of so much time, and Rumple is so angry about how she was treated, that of course he won’t let it stand. What he says to Regina is right: she would have killed Belle eventually. Either that or she’d find a way to use her against him somehow, meaning Belle gets hurt either way.

Rumple being protective has always been my favourite version of Rumple, but, at the same time, we also see here Rumple the king of loopholes. Belle asks him not to kill Regina, and it’s almost easy for him to agree with the promise of being with her, because he knows he can get rid of Regina another way, a way where he gets what he wants, but he still technically keeps his promise. But, of course, rightly, that’s not enough for honest, idealistic Belle. She wants him to adhere to the idea of his promise to her, as well as to the letter of it, and now Rumple finds himself in a relationship with someone with a pure heart, for whom honesty is everything. It’ll take him some time to really accept and appreciate that. Well, I think he comes to appreciate it rather quicker than he comes to accept that it has consequences for him. For seasons yet, we see him try to find loopholes to get around what she needs from him (and usually that’s honesty, a simple thing, but not easy for him). He does get there, though, in the end, and it’s something that transforms his life, and makes true happiness not only possible, but he has it within his grasp. All he needs to do is get out of his own way, but he’s a long way from that yet.

I think Belle’s love for him is a very powerful thing, something that’s almost bigger than her. She gets upset with him and leaves, but then she comes back because she was worried (obviously about him), and what makes her stay is the humanity he shows by the fact that he kept the cup she broke and that he deems it precious to him. Seeing that, she sees that, for all that he calls himself a monster, there is something good in him. She realises that, even if he’s right, and he is a monster, he does love her, and that means that she can save him, and that’s why she comes back, why she always comes back. Because she loves him too, and that’s more important than anything to her. I think when she later says she tried to be everything to him, this moment is actually when that starts. Belle, in this moment, decides she’s going to save him, and part of her journey is realising that the one who needs to save him is him, and he’s only able to do that because she wanted to save him first. Have I mentioned that I love these two and the journey they take together? :)

I also love how David is with Henry at the end. They barely know each other, but David steps up in such a big way. He offers Henry hope when he’s losing hope. And he offers Henry family too. I think that’s so special. I don’t think we should diminish what David does here, and I think he needs Henry as much as Henry needs him right now. He needs Henry to ground him, to help him focus on getting Emma and Mary Margaret back. And I think David and Snow being separated is kind of the artificial drama. All the drama they face is external to them, while all RumBelle’s drama is internal.

#2.1 broken #ouat full series rewatch #watching fairytales

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thestraggletag · 6 years

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Still Waters, a May Day Menagerie Fic

Giftee: @little-inkstone

Prompt: Rumbelle + aquatic creature (I chose a Kelpie)

Summary: There’s a horse at the Mills Stables, a bony, pitiful creature with sad eyes Belle cannot help but feel drawn to. Coincidentally she feels the same way about Mr Gold, whose eyes are also melancholic, and the same startling hazel shade.

Rating: M for sex and gore.

AN: Surprise, @little-inkstone! Though you must have figured it out it is I, your... secret Zookeeper! I hope you enjoy this story. The ending fought be like a bitch, but I managed to subdue it. Sorry for the lateness of the delivery!

Tagging @maydaymenagerie for reasons.

Belle knew she was lucky. She was hardly the first person to even have to take up a second job because her first one wasn't enough to pay the bills. At least she loved both her jobs. She had always wanted to be a librarian, had always wanted to work surrounded by books. But she also loved horses, both passions inherited from her mother, so it wasn't hard for her to sacrifice her weekends and her free afternoons to work as a stable hand at the one local stable, owned by Henry Mills. As far as she knew horse-raising wasn't what accounted for the family's lavish lifestyle, but rather an exorbitant hobby, a status symbol. Cora Mills, who rumour had it had come from nothing, was an adept social climber and considered horse-riding something his daughter, Regina, needed to learn to earn her place in society. It also appeared to have the bonus of keeping the girl happy, which in turn made her less likely to fight her mother when she made decisions of her.

Belle wasn't very interested in the details, or in having anything at all to do with the Mills. But the pay was good, her boss, Daniel, was nice, and being near horses again- she hadn't had much contact with horses ever since they'd left Australia- felt good, even if the work was hard and the demands high. Daniel ran a tight ship but was kind and had a real love for the animals, which Belle was grateful for. The horses were well-kept and well-behaved, always closely monitored by the vet, specially the two polo ponies, one American and the other Argentinian. Belle took to both of them immediately, given their gentle nature. She particularly enjoyed braiding their tails before a game, since she felt both horses enjoyed the pampering.

Besides the polo ponies and two show jumpers there was a thoroughbred called Rocinante, a gorgeous chestnut that Regina Mills herself was personally training for dressage, and some older horses kept mostly for breeding. At the back, though, almost hidden away, was a box stall she hadn't noticed at first. It was unkempt, since no one seemed to be in charge of cleaning it, and housed a rather strange horse. Average in size but powerfully built, though too thin to appear healthy. It was black, with the strangest whiskey-coloured eyes she'd ever seen on a horse, and a long, matted mane. He looked close to emaciated but when she took her concerns to Daniel he surprisingly shrugged her off.

"I felt the same when I started out here, and it still doesn't sit well with me that we aren't allowed to care for the horse, but I can guarantee you the bastard's not gonna die. He's looked pretty much that way for years. Hell, I'm not even sure how old it is, but it's probably the oldest horse any of us has ever seen. It's strange, but I don't question it. Mrs Mills takes care of him herself, or so she says. Can't say I've seen her around here much, but the old boy's being kept alive somehow. And he's got enough strength to be a pain in the ass."

The horse had a foul temper, and was prone to acts of malice, though it seemed incongruous to describe a horse's actions in such a way. He wasn't just violent, there was a sort of rationality to his thinking that unnerved her. He wasn't simply destructive or ill-behaved, there was a level of cunning to his actions, something Belle couldn't quite put into words.

And as much as that did terrify her, it wasn't enough to diminish the pity she felt for the creature, malnourished and unloved as he was. He cut a pathetic figure most of the time, listless and isolated, his ribs prominent and most of his neck and muzzle covered by his matted hair. His eyes reflected a sort of sadness that made her think of when she'd lost her mom to cancer and her dad had retreated into himself, unable to cope. It'd damaged their relationship forever and had filled her with a deep-seated loneliness she had never quite managed to shake off. The horse had the same look she'd seen in the mirror often back then, and could still see now, sometimes.

It was that what made her reach out, at first with small bits of food. Though some horses, like the two polo ponies, were under a strict diet, she was allowed to give others small snacks, mostly apples- the Mills had an orchard, which made them plentiful around the stables. She tried at first to tentatively feed the stallion pieces of apple from her hand, but he reared back, often hitting the door of the stall, exactly where she leaned against. Though the floor of his stall was mucky and the straw dirty she had no choice but to drop the apple slices, hoping he'd eat them out of the floor if he refused to do so out of her hand. Though he never touched the red apples the horse did devour the green apple slices, which Belle counted as her first win.

Sometimes the stallion was out of the stables. Daniel told her Mrs Mills would sometimes fetch him early in the morning to let him out for a bit, though he was never out in the paddock. Apparently, due to his hostility, he was taken to some other paddock deep in the Mill's property, where Belle hoped he could at least enjoy some fresh air and graze. The stable was calmer in his absence, most of the horses seeming to relax visibly without him there. They were all docile animals, used to the company of each other and the presence of strange horses when they were taken to competitions or matches. But, for some reason, they were terrified of the old stallion, often cowering in a corner of their stalls whenever he'd pitch a fit for some perceived slight or the other.

It was during one of those quiet days that Belle first saw Mr Gold. She'd heard of him before, both in Storybrooke and around the stable, but even though lots of people had mentioned him to her she soon realised there was little that people actually knew about the man. Everyone spoke about him as if he'd always lived in Storybrooke, but his distinctive Scottish accent indicated he must have moved in at some point, though no one remembered, not even Granny, who'd lived all her life in the small town.

His vague origins added an extra layer of mystery to an already mysterious man. His accent wasn't the only thing to set him apart, his three-piece suits, long hair and cane also helped make him unique amongst the usual small-town dwellers. He was soft-spoken but there was an undercurrent of menace to him, something that made it easy for Belle to believe he was as dangerous as rumour had it. Whenever she saw him it was usually from a distance, Mrs Mills draped around one of his arms in a rather possessive way. He was an impeccable, impenetrable figure next to her, usually sneering, looking supremely bored.

She'd thought he had him all figured out at first. Someone nasty, like Cora was, likely amoral since it was pretty clear he was carrying on with Mrs Mill behind Mr Mills’ back, unfeeling and greedy. He owned most of Storybrooke, including the land the Mills used as their own, and was known for being unforgiving when it came to the rent or his deals. Whenever he was out with Mrs Mills he acted as if everyone was beneath his notice, as if he barely noticed people. What made Belle the most uneasy, though, was how the horses acted around him. If he approached any of their stalls they'd get strangely nervous and fidgety, and if he remained nearby they'd have to be removed, lest they hurt themselves. Belle was a firm believer in horses’ ability to judge character, which added to Mr Gold's dangerous aura.

But almost against her will she began to see another side of him, the more she randomly ran into him. She didn't know exactly when that started happening, but she couldn't say she was particularly displeased. For all his nefarious reputation and shady relationship to her boss Mr Gold was cultured and sharp, with the sort of dark sense of humour she preferred. And he was, for the most part, all bark and no bite, at least with her and specially once she began laughing at his darker remarks.

He was a lonely soul, she soon discovered, which perhaps accounted for why he intrigued her so. She was lonely too, after all, no longer a stranger new to Storybrooke like she'd been years ago but still a bit of an outsider. The horses helped, which meant she quickly got into the habit of taking a book with her to the stables and reading during breaks or once she was off the clock. She'd wander around the forested area surrounding the Mill's property- well, Gold's, apparently- and pick a spot to sit down and read. Mr Gold came across her sporadically, at first, still pristine-looking in his pressed suits and shined shoes even in the middle of the woods, but soon it became a ritual of sorts. Somehow, for whatever reason, she'd bump into Gold at least once a week, but oftentimes more, and they'd trade quips and sometimes talk about the book she was reading.

She discovered Mr Gold was extremely well-versed in classic literature, even obscure titles she had been pretty sure no one else had heard of in boring little Storybrooke. Of modern literature, however, he had no idea, so she got into the habit of loudly telling him when she'd leave a book in the stables instead of taking it home. He'd use a piece of braided leather to mark his spot, a sort of faded strip that seemed ancient and smelt faintly of something water-y. For some reason instinct told her not to tell anyone, to hide away her small interactions with Mr Gold away in the woods, save from the eyes and ears of Mrs Mills. She even made sure to keep her encounters from Daniel, who was, thankfully, a little too distracted with Regina Mills to notice anything.

It was around the time she began to low-key share her books with Gold that she made progress with the stallion, being able to approach his stall without him slamming the door in warning and feeding him apples from the palm of her hand. Up close the horse was even more imposing and pathetic at the same time, with protruding ribs, sunken eyes and what appeared to be a big iron ring on his right back leg. The skin around the ring looked red and angry, and the horse did not completely rest the hoof on the floor, as if it'd pain him to do so. When she mentioned wanting to remove it to Daniel, however, he told her not to bother.

"I took the issue up with Mrs Mills years ago, she told me on no uncertain terms that I was not to remove the ring. Of course, I tried to anyway, thing looks rusted over and like it's causing a considerable amount of pain, but was unable to. Believe me, I tried every which way. Thing just wouldn't budge. Horse seems fine with it, other than the limp, no infections or anything like that, so I just live it alone. I know it feels wrong, but there's nothing you can do."

Cora Mills wasn't a horsewoman. She could barely tolerate the stench and feel of the stables, and didn't go near any of the many horses kept there. Yet she seemed almost obsessed with the old stallion, and guarded him jealously, while at the same time doing little in the way of grooming or caring for it, to the point that oftentimes Belle would spend close to an hour finger-combing the horse's mane, removing brittle pieces of greenery and undoing what felt like ages-old knots. The horse would nuzzle against her hands in gratitude, some spark of something returning to his dull eyes. Whatever Mrs Mills did in the stables at night- Daniel had warned her against working late, telling her it was strictly forbidden- when she was supposed to be taking care of the animal was a mystery to her, because it was plain as day that there was no actual caring taking place, the neglect etched into every visible part of the animal.

That particular mystery was revealed to her one night, when she discovered she'd forgotten her keys back at the Mills’ and rushed to the stables to get them. The employee's changing rooms- Mrs Mills was a stickler for cleanliness and would not allow any of the stable hands anywhere close to her own home- where right next to the stables, which was how she was able to hear the strange thumping sounds. Hoping to be able to catch Mrs Mills actually abusing the stallion, anything concrete that would allow her to get the attention of someone other than the Sheriff's department, that would not take her animal abuse claims seriously- she crept close to the doors of the stable and pried one open just enough to see inside. The moon was full, providing enough light to see into the stables. She noticed right away that one of the wide wooden benches, which were usually kept on the very back, covered by horse blankets and an assortment of grooming supplies and bridles and saddles taken from their perch to be cleaned or delivered back to the tack room at a later time had been moved to the middle of the stables, covered by a bright red horse blanket she'd never seen anyone use, the sort of thing that seemed too luxurious and delicate to throw over an animal. There was someone lying on the bench, stark-naked, arms grasping the sides of it. She recognised the silver-streaked soft brown hair and the crooked nose before she even became aware of the other person in the room, sitting astride the first body, moving in an unmistakable fashion. Even without seeing her face there was no mistaken that auburn-tinted hair, nor those blood-red nails, digging painfully into the skin of the prone figure. It was Cora Mills, completely naked as well, looking like the years had been more than kind to her. It wasn't Mr Mills bellow her, perhaps indulging some fetish or secret pleasure of his wife, but Mr Gold. His eyes were closed, head thrown back and an expression the hovered between disgust and bliss on his usually blank face. He had scratches on his side, blood looking black as it seemed from them, and yet he was making no move to pull Cora's claws away from his exposed flesh, nor did he do anything to stop her as she rode him mercilessly.

She took a couple of steps back, almost forgetting to stay quiet. There was a nauseous sense of betrayal threatening to choke her, though she knew she had no right to it. If there was someone who was deserving of such a feeling was poor Mr Mills, kind as a lamb and likely completely unaware of the sordid little arrangement, tucked into bed thinking his wife might be revising some contracts or perhaps taking a long hot bath. And though she liked Mr Mills, liked his kind eyes, his even kinder words and the affection with which he showered his one and only daughter, Belle couldn't say she felt betrayed in his name. Whatever she was feeling was personal, in a way she had no right to. Underneath it, though, there was something else, a sense of wrongness that had nothing to do with what she might have thought was growing between herself and the older man. Something that disturbed her and she couldn't quite pinpoint how or why.

Cora's shrill cries of pleasure turned her attention almost in spite of herself back to the inside of the stables. Unable to look elsewhere her eyes became glued to Mr Gold's face, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. Finally, he tipped his head back, lips parting to soundlessly whisper something before he came. It was just a small word, five letters that she couldn't even be sure he'd mouthed, but they shocked her into painful awareness, allowing her to silently slip away from the stables and back home as fast as her legs could carry her.

Belle. He's said Belle.

It was inevitable for things to get awkward after that, even after Belle spent an entire weekend trying to rationally convince herself nothing that she had seen was any of her business and she had no right getting offended by Mrs Mills and Mr Gold's extracurricular activities. In a way it confirmed rumours that she'd heard before, so it shouldn't even have shocked her all that much. But in spite of all that she still found herself spending less time reading in the forest, nursing some hurt feelings she wasn't really entitled to. Inevitably Mr Gold noticed and pull back, widening the distance between them that had shrunk so fast the last couple of months. It left Belle feeling petty and miserable, which in turn made her grouchy and less than welcoming.

So, what if Mr Gold had opened up to her about a few things, told her about his favourite spot, a cabin hidden in the woods, next to a river? So, what if he'd told her how it reminded him of the cottage he'd been brought up in, under the loving care of two doting aunts? His confidences didn't really give her right to be jealous or feel betrayed. And at the back of her head something niggled, some sort of revelation she couldn't quite consciously grasp yet and it bothered her. There was a certain sense of urgency attached to it that made her uneasy. The horses, bright and sensitive as they were, could tell, and they became increasingly skittish around her. The old stallion, on the other hand, became quiet and taciturn, reluctant to be tempted by her apples or her offering of pettings.

So, when she had the first dream, she attached it all to her unstable emotional state and the shock of what she'd seen. The dream itself was fussy and unclear at first, mostly the feeling of slippery scales under her fingertips and the sensation of someone smiling against the skin of her hip, pointed teeth scraping her there. But as time passed the dream became more and more defined. She began to hear sounds and see glimpses of colour, flashes of images that finally coalesced into the form of a man, tough not a traditional one. He had skin that shifted from green to grey to gold, scaly in texture, and claws. His face was hidden from her, though she sometimes caught glimpses of his golden eyes in the dark, watching her avidly.

She was always naked in her dreams, though she didn't know she knew that, but it never made her feel vulnerable or defenceless. Sometimes he'd simply watch her from the shadows, though other times he'd pet her hair, sinking his claws into it with obvious relish. And other times he was all over her, teeth and hands and skin groping, biting and sliding against every part of her he could reach. Though somehow, she knew her phantom lover was dangerous she did not fear him in her dreams, not even when he gripped her hips tight, claws sinking into her skin, or when held her arms up above her head in a vicious grip as he fucked her. Far from becoming frightened or submissive her dream self was just as savage, if not more. She bit back, thrashed against him, feeling nothing but sweet triumph whenever she could flip them around and have him beneath her, powerful and feral and completely at her mercy. They didn't have sex as much as rutted like animals, unlike anything she'd ever felt she'd be comfortable with in real life.

Unwilling to see her satisfying yet unsettling new sex dreams as connected in any way, shape or form to whatever she'd stumbled into a few weeks ago at the stables she decided instead that it was just her healthy mind coping with happened to be a very long dry spell. Not that she minded it, really, not when the alternative was subpar. She'd never been able to find small-town men to be much attractive. There was a small-world mentality to them she shied away from, even in men like Sheriff Graham that were pleasing to the eye and genuinely nice. It didn't help that the "genuinely nice men" like the sheriff were rather an exception. Most of the Storybrooke singles scene was dominated by lowlifes like Keith Nott or Arthur Penn or men like Greg Aston, who seemed to be in a committed, long-term relationship with himself. Her mother had always told her that companionship ought to feel better than being alone, and not to settle for less. And Belle was really okay, happy even, to be by herself, at least in comparison to what it'd be like to be paired up in a town like Storybrooke.

But she did get lonely, and needy, which explained the dreams and her quick, instinctual attachment to Mr Gold, as unfortunate and ill-boding as it had been. So reluctantly, but in the spirit of self-improvement and being brave, he allowed Ruby, the town matchmaker, to set her up with a man. And such a charming man he was, with a cute accent, a small build- Belle hated people towering over her- and a scrappy sense of humour. Will was perfect, except he was perfectly in love with his ex, and Belle felt no sexual attraction to him, dangerous looks and arresting accent or not.

Though her blind date turned more into a friendly meeting, complete with a phone call from the ex in the middle of it and later on a happy recounting of how his ex and he had decided to try to make things work, Belle didn't much mind it, happy enough not to have to gently let Will down at the end of the night. She thought nothing more of it until late one afternoon, when Keith cornered her at the end of her shift, while she was putting away the curry combs and dandy brushes she'd used and setting aside the bits of horse tack that needed to be put away. She never quite figured why Keith still worked at the stables. Daniel didn't tolerate him and even Mr Mills appeared to frown upon the man's almost constantly hangover estate. The way she figured out Keith was still gainfully employed mostly because he'd wear wifebeaters and flex his muscles a lot whenever Mrs Mills was around, which apparently made him a qualified stable hand. He was competent whenever his eye-to-hand coordination wasn't impaired but he had no love for the animals, and they in turn had no love for him.

He had mostly kept his distance from her, due in great part to how Daniel tended to always keep an eye on him. But Daniel had left shortly after she'd clocked in, having left to accompany Miss Mills to a dressage event, reason why Rocinante's stall was empty. She'd given it a thorough cleaning, which was why she was late to tidy up and clock out. She hadn't even thought about the possibility that it'd mean she'd be stuck alone with Keith and no one else, but the moment she became aware of it, when Keith came out of nowhere to try and grab her ass, it was too late.

"Thought you were done being a frigid bitch, Belle."

Keith had learned over the years to fake sobriety, but his eyes were bloodshot and his breath, up close and personal, stank of cheap bourbon. She tried to brush him aside and head towards the women's changing rooms, which locked from the inside, but he grabbed her wrist and violently turned her around to face him again.

"I don't have time for this, Keith. Please let go."

She willed her voice not to waver, not to show how scared she was becoming. she visibly flinched at the sound of hooves smashing against a stall door, but Keith paid it no mind.

"What, thought you liked a good English accent. Thought that's what did it for you. It's a good selling point for a lot of ladies, no need to be embarrassed."

He was trying to sound cajoling, seductive, but his posture was more threatening than enticing. Against her better judgement she moved backwards, deeper into the stables. She knew Keith was scared of the old stallion, though he tried to pretend otherwise, and thankfully the old boy was feeling feisty. If she managed to get close enough to the stall Keith might think twice before trying to grab her.

The drink, however, was giving him a false sense of bravado so when the horse again knocked hard on the stall door to almost tear it off its hinges he flinched, but quickly recovered.

"When the time comes I'll drive you to the glue factory myself, you sack of bones."

He banged on the door with an open fist, meaning to scare the animal. The horse, however, moved lightning-fast, managing to get its muzzle in between the bars and bite hard on the hand. Keith howled, so loudly Belle was surprised the sound didn't reach the big house and alert anyone. He tried to yank his hand back but the horse had a tight grip on it, and didn't look like he was going to budge. When she caught sight of the blood dripping onto the floor Belle herself panicked, throwing caution to the wind and reaching out to pet the bridge of the animal's nose, cooing soft nonsense at it until it let go. Keith stumbled out of the stables faster than she would've thought possible and though she knew she should've gone after him, made sure at least that he would get help, she didn't. She was too caught-up staring at the horse's eyes, spying the malicious intent and satisfied smugness there. He was lapping up the blood smeared around his muzzle, as if it was some rare delicacy and as he did so she caught a glimpse of gold. A gold tooth, which she'd never noticed before. One that reminded her of-

Fuck.

She raced out of the room, overwhelmed by a sudden realisation. That niggling feeling on the back of her head, that notion that she'd noticed something significant, something life-changing was back with a vengeance, and against her will her mind went back to that time he'd stumbled across Mrs Mills and Mr Gold having sex in the stables. What she had noticed and somehow erased from her conscious memory was the iron ring around Mr Gold's right ankle, so familiar to her. A ring she'd studied hundreds of times before but not on the businessman's foot, but rather her stallion's right leg.

The horse and Mr Gold were one of the same. It was nonsensical but at the same time it felt like the most obvious and plausible explanation.

For some reason Storybrooke had rather a healthy folklore section at the library, with some of the library's oldest and most valuable books in it, which Belle promptly transferred to her apartment upstairs to pour into them with as much privacy as possible. Her mother had always told her stories and legends about horses, so she had some sort of idea about what she was looking for. It became more about confirming her suspicions than anything else, and by the time she was done and it was almost morning she knew for certain: Cora Mills had trapped a kelpie.

Mr Gold... there was no Mr Gold. He was an illusion, a facade. As was the old horse. The true creature she'd never seen, though she'd caught a glimpse of it the other night, when he'd almost devoured Keith's entire hand. It explained so much, as ridiculous as she knew it sounded: why the horse was never fed but never died, how it seemed to be ancient and far too intelligent for a common animal, why Mr Gold looked so desperately unhappy, why the Mills lived on what was technically his property.

It was out of the question to do nothing once she knew. Belle had been raised to value her independence and free will above all, to be the one to decide her own fate. To have that taken away felt wrong. It didn't matter to her if the kelpie was likely far from a good creature. The legends spoke about a mean-spirited demon, an imp, a trickster that drowned and devoured people, but it didn't make him deserving of enslavement, specially under the hands of someone as naturally-cruel as Mrs Mills.

Though Belle was naturally an impulsive person she forced herself to plan, to ensure she'd be successful in breaking the kelpie out. The trick, of course, had to be in the iron ring. She purchased and practiced using a variety of different tools that might be able to pry it open, determined to think Daniel had just not tried the right thing when he had unknowingly attempted to set the creature free. She also packed a silver cross, which was meant to potentially protect her against the kelpie, should he prove to be ungrateful towards his liberator, or hungry enough to try and take a bite out of her.

The night before she was set to carry out her plan she dreamt of her phantom lover laying her out in a bed of moss and licking and biting every inch of her, driving his cock into her cunt until she felt she had no strength to orgasm anymore. Afterwards, as they laid in a tangle of sweaty limbs, he told her in a sing-songy voice of all the pleasure that still awaited her, all the different ways in which he'd make her climax the following night.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I have to free him. Mr Gold. The horse. I have to free him."

Suddenly she was clothed, her pyjamas sticky against her cooling body, and a hand was grabbing her by the throat, chocking her. In front of her she saw Mr Gold, only his eyes were golden and he had seaweed in his hair.

"You foolish child." His accent was so thick she was barely able to understand him. "Don't play around with monsters, dearie, you might not live long enough to regret it."

She'd woken up swearing she could still feel Gold's hand squeezing her neck, but she forced herself to shrug the dream off and continue with the plan. Daniel was accompanying Regina to a show-jumping event far enough to require more than a day's absence- she rather thought it was one of the main reasons Regina was participating in the event at all, given hoe lacklustre she'd been about jumping lately- which meant it was the perfect time to do it. Being the only current female employer meant it was easy to simply hide away in the women's changing room once her shift was up and wait for it to get dark. Once it was fully dark out and she was sure that Mrs Mills wasn't about to indulge in one of her... midnight rides Belle sneaked back into the stabled, hauling her bag of tools towards the last stall, where the horse seemed to strangely be waiting for her. He looked more tired than normal, as if even his usual meagre strength had been siphoned away, but tried to put up a fight once she got to her knees in front of his shackled leg, frantically trying to keep the limb out of her reach.

Through sheer force of will and determination she managed to wrestle the creature into submission, which gave her the opportunity to study the iron ring closely for the first time. It was smooth and not overly thick, but thick enough not to be able to cut away with pliers. There was no lock or hinges, only a crude melted line that seemed to have been hastily and sloppily forged. Hoping it was a weakness in the design she could exploit she made a weak attempt at prying the shackle open by pulling on both sides of the line, hoping to get a feel for it. Instead the whole thing came apart at her hands, the iron ring cracking open like an Easter egg.

"What the-?"

The horse almost fell on top of her, looking as close to death as she'd ever seen him. Whatever compulsions Cora had placed on him where gone, which also meant the full reality of his mistreatment and suffering was exposed. With gentle hands and a patience, she knew they didn't have time for Belle slowly coaxed the creature out of his stall and deep into the forest. He needed fresh water, according to what she'd read, and the river was the best source for it. The river Mr Gold talked about often, with such yearning. It made sense now.

"Come on now, we're just a few feet away now. You've been so brave and we're so close, it's all going to be al-"

It felt like getting stung by some sort of massive insect at first, uncomfortable but not overly painful. It wasn't until she felt her stomach getting wet that she looked down, noticing the blood a second before her body caught up with her and she dropped to the ground, pain exploding around her, making it hard to think. Cora Mills stood a few feet away, gun still raised and pointed where she'd been standing only a second before.

"Rumple, dear, look at yourself. So weak, so pitiful. Come back to me, precious, I'll make it all better."

Her sweet, cooing voice was thick with false concern and syrupy sweetness. A trap, a pretence. Belle moaned and turned her head to the side, noticing with unease that the kelpie was not making a run for the water, as he should, rather taking a few tentative steps towards Cora, suspicious but not completely mistrustful. Cora smiled, lips very red in the moonlight.

"That's it, that's it, my darling. We've had such good times, haven't we? We've... enjoyed each other so much. We're so alike, a true partnership. Come here, darling, surely it wasn't so bad being under my care, receiving my... enthusiastic affections."

He took a step towards her and then another. Belle whimpered as a sense of defeat washed over her, watching as the skeletal horse nuzzled against Cora's carefully-coiffed hair. A second later, however, he was grabbing the thick auburn locks with his teeth and was violently dragging the woman towards the river, acting as though her struggles and screams were of little importance to him. Cora screeched, frantically clawing at her trapped hair, trying to tear it off. Eventually the water drowned her screams and the night turned oddly peaceful.

It was hard to determine how much time passed after that. Belle seemed to blink in and out of existence, her vision becoming more and more unfocused and blurry as time passed and the moon moved across the sky. Eventually she heard splashing and was able to see the kelpie as it emerged from the river, no longer emaciated and dirty, but rather well-fed and with a sheen to his black coat. There was also blood around his muzzle and running down his powerful neck. He approached her slowly, carefully, almost lovingly, nuzzling against her like he had done with Cora. Then he tried attempting to entice her on his back. Belle knew precious little about guns or bullet wounds, but she knew that a shot in the stomach meant a slow, painful death, and that she was unlikely to be rescued at all. In contrast drowning seemed like a much more palatable death. Quicker, for sure. And riding a magical horse, even for a few seconds, was something straight out of her wildest childhood fantasies.

The kelpie felt surprisingly warm to the touch, which made lying on his back and absolute relief to the coldness Belle could not seem to shake off. Not even the low temperature of the water seemed to diminish the sensation, and though she had no strength with which to hold onto the animal she didn't drift away, somehow, nor did her lungs burn from lack of oxygen, as if the laws of nature did not apply to her as long as she rode astride the kelpie, cocooned in whatever magic he was capable of.

At some point they got out of the river, somewhere downstream, deep in the woods. Belle saw an old cottage, vaguely English in design and looking incredibly old, moss and ivy creeping up the stone and wooden walls, threatening to engulf it. It was the cottage Mr Gold had described to her often, the one he'd built in loving memory of the place where he'd grown up back in Scotland, under the care of two lovable spinsters. Cora had kept him away from it, which explained why he talked about it with such yearning.

Once out of the water whatever trick was keeping her astride the kelpie faded, just as it did the last bit of her strength. She fell to the floor with a thud, relieved to feel only a dull sort of pain. A moment later spidery arms where wrapping around her and hoisting her up, claws snagging on her cardigan and jeans. She looked up, her eyes feeling heavy, and saw the blurry shape of her dream lover looking down at her, cooing softly at her in a familiar sort of accent.

A moment later the darkness overtook her and she could hear and see no more.

The first thing she became aware of was that she was lying in a bed of thick, soft moss, a buttery-soft blanket draped on top of her naked body. A fire roared somewhere nearby, she could both hear and feel it. It took her forever to pry her eyelids open but when she did she saw the kelpie right in front of her, peering at her intently. He looked like he had in her dreams, scales and leather covering every bit of him, wide amber eyes and sharp teeth and claws. He had seaweed in his hair as well, and Mr Gold's familiar sharp nose and thin mouth. On a rational level she knew she ought to be scared, not only because of what she'd read kelpies where capable of but because he'd seen him kill in cold blood only a few hours ago.

But even though she tried to will herself to be scared the emotion did not materialise, overridden by a burning sort of curiosity that had her reaching out, the fingertips of her right hand gliding over the smooth scales of the kelpie's face. They were dry but slippery, and oddly warm to the touch, which was unexpected. His eyes, strangely cat-like and a deep molten gold, fluttered close when she slid her fingers into his hair, fascinated by the texture of it.

"You're a wonder."

His words startled her, not just by the strange pitch of his voice but by the words themselves. It seemed incongruous for the straight-out-of-lore creature to call her a wonder, and she must have said something, because he laughed, the sound more akin to a purr.

"Not an ounce of fear in you, pretty thing, can't even smell a hint of wariness. Such light, so sparkly and warm inside you, so exquisitely bold."

One of his clawed hands began playing with the tips of her hair, tugging on it in a way that made her scalp tingle pleasantly.

"Such goodness, to bestow it even on a monster. It's no surprise Cora's nasty iron ring didn't stand a chance."

He tugged her closer using her hair, and though it forced Belle to bend close to him it didn't scare her. He pressed his nose on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, inhaling deeply.

"So sweet. Such a pretty light. Never been so close to something like it. Makes me want to gobble it up."

Even though she was absolutely certain the kelpie had not only killed but also eaten Mrs Mills his apparent desire to devour her did not provoke any sort of revulsion or alarm. If anything, it excited her.

"What- what are you going to do to me?"

The kelpie slowly clawed at the tartan blanket, coaxing it away from her body. She let him, finding it all strangely, reassuringly familiar. She'd dreamed about it countless times, after all.

"Never seen anything so pure. Wanna feast on it, get drunk on it. I'm an old kelpie, sweet one, with vast knowledge and experience. I collect things, rare things, valuable things. Things with power. Things that I feel a connection to. And you, pretty thing? You I aim to keep."

As he spoke to her he coaxed her on her back, peeling the last of the blanket off till she was naked in the firelight. The kelpie's clothes disappeared too, dissolving into thin air in that inexplicable way that happens in dreams and fantasies, though Belle knew for a fact it was neither. This was real, startlingly real, and she needed to think about the ramifications of what she'd do next. A moment later the kelpie's mouth was on hers, and her thoughts grew pleasantly muddled. It felt exactly like it had in her dreams, only more intense. The creature was all sharp edges and skinny limbs, but deceptively strong, easily pinning her to the mossy bed beneath. There was a challenge in the way he overpowered her, a provocative playfulness that made her struggle to gain the upper hand. He seemed delighted by it, nipping at her skin to encourage her to retaliate in kind and practically trembling in pleasure when she scratched him by accident.

It was a strangely-liberating experience, new and exciting and yet familiar and comforting, a primal, well-rehearsed danced they practiced a hundred times before in her dreams, in dozens of different ways. When she finally had him on the floor, legs on either side of his hips, one hand on his long mane of hair, keeping him pliant and obedient beneath her she finally saw a flicker of hesitation in his golden eyes. His expression softened, becoming more open and a clawed hand came to rest on top of her left breast, where her heart beat furiously.

"It's forever, dearie."

There was an unspoken question in his voice. Belle was sure the kelpie himself didn't know what he was asking, whether he'd be able to let her go if she asked. Fortunately for both of them, she didn't want to. She pressed her moth against his softly, gently, marvelling at how it disarmed him completely. It was heady to have such power over a creature as powerful as the kelpie was, but Belle did not allow herself to explore that. Instead she sunk into the kelpie's member, digging her nails into his scalp as her body adjusted to the wonderful sensation of fullness that followed. The kelpie trembled, thrashing and whimpering when a tug on his mane made him still. She began to ride him then, slowly and sweetly at first and harder and faster as her belly tightened and her mind became fussier and fussier. Orgasming felt a bit like reaching the end of a long, hard run, muscles aching, heart racing and a feeling of elation overtaking her. The kelpie curled up around her tight as he came, breathless from the exertion, possessively wrapping his bony arms around her, dragging her down with him as he laid back against the moss, wiggling till he was comfortable. He made a sound of contentment when she dragged the tartan blanket on top of both of them, trapping whatever body heat was leftover. There was a voice nagging on the back of her mind, telling her to take a minute and think about what she was doing, what she ought to do next. But the kelpie was warm and comfy beneath her, and the fire kept the room pleasantly toasty. It was all too easy to push the voice aside and close her eyes, the distant sound of the running river lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #thestraggletag fanfiction #rumbelle may day menagerie

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pamchenko-twist · 6 years

Text

Once in a Blue Moon

This is my Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for the amazing @delintthedarkone, who prompted "detectives, blue, ring, undercover, rain". It was an honor to be your Santa, and I hope you enjoy this story!

Also on AO3 and FF.net

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Part 1: The Librarian

Belle thought that picking a lock would be easier. Well, not easier, exactly... just that she figured that she was prepared to do it more quickly. After all, she had read the section on the subject in Practical Locksmithing by Jefferson Hatter so many times that she had it committed to memory. (She had finally returned the book to its rightful place in Section 683 before closing up the library several hours ago.)

But that studying had taken place in the comfort of her cozy apartment, with her cat in her lap and a hot cup of tea nearby. Somehow the experience was different in the darkened hallway of The Blue Moon nightclub, where she was under pressure to break into the owner’s office (a) without anyone noticing and (b) before she was missed on the floor. Ariel, the club's headliner, had just started her set a few minutes ago. In Belle's month working at the club, she noticed that her sales weren't as heavy while the audience was enraptured with Ariel's performance. It was Christmas Eve, too, and almost everyone at the club had been happily imbibing all evening. Hopefully no one would notice that the cigarette girl had disappeared for a little while.

The tumblers finally gave way. Quickly glancing in both directions down the hallway to make sure the coast was still clear, she slowly turned the knob, pushed the door open, and quietly closed it behind her. Belle allowed herself to breathe a little sigh of relief as she started to look around the dimly-lit office, her gaze immediately on the desk and bookcase in the opposite corner of the room. Where should she begin to look? Where would Jones keep the kind of information she was looking for? She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for, if she was being honest with herself.

“I was wondering when you’d finally get that door open, dearie.”

Putting her hand over her mouth to stifle a yelp of surprise, Belle spun around to find one of the club’s familiar patrons in the corner behind the door.

“Mr. Gold? What are you doing in here?” She asked in an urgent, but hushed, tone.

Gold kept his voice low, as well. “I might ask the same of you, Miss Bennet. I wasn’t aware that Jones’s office doubled as a stockroom for cigarettes. Don’t get me wrong—I’d much rather see you than him, especially given the circumstances.”

Belle paused a bit, as she often did at the hearing someone call her by her alias, but quickly recovered. “The circumstances of you breaking into this office?”

“And what was that fiddling about with the lock? Not exactly the sound of someone who is supposed to be here.”

“Well, we can’t all be experts in the art of picking locks.”

Gold gave her a self-satisfied smirk. “Ah, but there’s no need to pick the lock when you can bribe a member of the cleaning staff for the key.”

“I’m beginning to think that Jones doesn’t run the tightest ship around here.”

That remark changed Gold’s smirk to a real smile. “Obviously.”

Belle smiled back at Mr. Gold. In her guise as “Lizzie Bennet”, she was a cigarette girl at The Blue Moon, a sophisticated nightclub in Downtown Los Angeles. It was part of her job to be charming with the customers. Just as with the false name, she thought of the charm as part of the role she was playing. When it came to Mr. Gold, though, her charm and wit seemed to flow more easily. She felt more like “Belle” than “Lizzie” around him. She genuinely enjoyed talking with him on the occasions that they’d had the opportunity to have a few minutes’ conversation. He was somehow different from most of the regular guests, many of whom were cronies of Killian Jones, the club’s smarmy owner. For one thing, Mr. Gold was intelligent. For another thing, he didn’t leer at her or talk to her in the patronizing tone used by many of the male customers. Mr. Gold seemed honestly interested in what she was saying when they spoke.

Shaking her head, Belle brought herself back to the present moment, and to the strange situation in which she found herself. Yes, she enjoyed talking to Mr. Gold…but how much did she trust him? They had caught one another breaking and entering, so she wasn’t worried that he would snitch on her. But how much did she want to tell him about the reason she was here?

For some reason, her instinct told her that she could trust him. Maybe if she told him a little about her story, he would tell her a bit of hers. Maybe they could help each other.

“I’m looking for my friend, Anna.”

She noticed that his eyes widened ever-so-slightly. So slightly that it could have been a trick of the light. She’d thought many times that they were nice eyes: wide and brown.

“I know that Mr. Jones is probably hiding many things in this office, but I don’t think a woman is one of them.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Wow, you’re a funny guy. I’m looking for information that could lead me to my friend. She was working here when she disappeared a few months ago. I’ve been trying to find out if there’s some connection to one of Jones’ associates. I thought maybe if I could take a look through his papers, there could be a lead.”

Mr. Gold looked as if he was trying to decide how to respond, when the sound of footsteps got increasingly louder outside. Belle’s eyes went wide. This area was usually quiet during the show. Gold put a finger to his lips, an unnecessary gesture, since Belle was pretty sure she was speechless in fear at the moment. She instinctively moved closer to Mr. Gold until she was right up against his side. The steps seemed to come right up to the door. She glanced desperately around the office, and wondered if they could both fit under the big desk across the room. It could work—neither one of them was very tall.

Miraculously, though, the steps suddenly retreated back down the hall. Soon it was quiet once again, and the only sounds Belle could hear were her own thudding heartbeat and the muffled sound of Ariel singing a spirited “Winter Wonderland” out front. She and Gold stood stone still for what felt like an eternity, making sure that the steps didn’t return.

Darn it. She hadn’t even had a chance to look around, but she felt like it wasn’t safe to stay in here any longer.

“Miss Bennet, I believe we should take that as a sign that it’s time to go.” The whispered words were warm against her temple.

“Miss French.”

“Excuse me?”

She turned her head and looked up into his eyes. “My real name is Belle French. In case something happens when we open that door, I thought you should know.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile. “Now that we’ve been properly introduced, shall we, Miss French?” He gestured towards the door.

As luck would have it, the hallway was empty when they slowly opened the door and made their way back towards the main room. They came to the intersection of another hallway that lead to the dressing rooms, and Belle retrieved her tray of wares from under the tablecloth-covered table that she’d left it under.

Mr. Gold nodded and turned to leave, but Belle put a staying hand on his arm and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “We still need to talk. Meet me at Granny’s Diner in an hour. You know where that is?”

She finally seemed to have rendered him speechless. He nodded again in the affirmative. Belle fastened the strap attached to the tray around her neck, and once again became Lizzie, purveyor of cigarettes. She would have to invent some excuse to leave a little early.

Looking back over her shoulder as she headed back to the floor, she smiled at him. “I’ll see you there?”

He smiled back. “I wouldn’t miss it…Miss French.”

********

Part 2: The Detective

According to some people, it never rained in LA, but a soft rain had started to fall on this unusually chilly Christmas Eve. Fifty minutes after Miss French had told him to meet her in one hour, Gold was seated in a booth at Granny’s. Say whatever you would about him (and many did), he was punctual. He sat facing the door, in a booth as far away as possible from any eavesdropping ears. Due to the fact that it was open all night (or, as the sign on the window proclaimed, “OPEN ALL NITE!”), the diner had always been a popular spot for the cops in the neighborhood. He hadn’t come here often since leaving that life behind. Ignoring the proprietress’ pointed greeting of “Detective Gold” when she came by the table, he ordered a cup of coffee and waited for Lizzie (no, not Lizzie—Belle) to arrive.

The lulling sound of the rain outside turned his thoughts to Belle and their encounter back at the nightclub. She had been the last person in that club that he expected to encounter when breaking into Killian Jones’ office. He had been relieved when it was her that opened that door, and not one of Jones’ goons. For one thing, he hadn’t fancied getting into a fight. For another thing, he actually liked Miss French.

In her short time working at The Blue Moon, Belle had succeeded in becoming the only person with whom he truly enjoyed talking. Their conversations had never been particularly lengthy (she was on the job, and in a way, so was he), but they were his favorite part of the evenings he spent at the club. She was bright and quick-witted when she spoke, and thoughtful and engaged when she listened. And even when she must have been rattled to find him in that office, she didn’t show it, choosing instead to give him a taste of his own smart-mouthed medicine.

The decorative bells that hung on the front door jangled as the door opened, heralding Belle’s arrival and bringing him out of his reverie. She quickly closed the door behind her, and shook the water from her coat. For some reason, he was relieved to see that she was protected from the weather: she carried a now-closed umbrella, and was wearing galoshes over her high-heeled shoes. She had let some of her hair down from the pinned-up style she wore at the club, and the cold brought a lovely flush to her cheeks. Immediately seeing where he was sitting, she smiled and made her way to his table.

She hung her coat on a hook on the side of the booth, and sat down. She had changed out of her uniform, and now wore a long-sleeved dress in a shade of blue that made her eyes seem even brighter than usual. “Pull yourself together, man,” he reminded himself.

“Mr. Gold. I’m so glad you came.”

“I am a man of my word. I have to say, I’m intrigued. How many cigarette girls know how to pick a lock?”

“Librarian.” At his raised eyebrow, she continued. “I’m a librarian at the Central Library.” She leaned forward, and proudly confessed in a lower voice, “I learned how to pick a lock from a book.”

“Being a former public servant myself, I know that the pay isn’t especially lucrative. But was a second job really necessary?”

Belle giggled, showing a dimple in one cheek. “It was the only way I could think of to get close to people who were around Anna when she disappeared. I thought being in the same surroundings that she had been in would help me find some clue about what happened to her. The police seemed too busy to care.”

At that moment, Granny came to take their order. “Hi, honey,” she said warmly to Belle, whom she obviously recognized. The older woman then turned a suspicious eye towards Gold. “You doing OK?” She directed the question to Belle.

“Happy Christmas Eve! I’m fine, Granny, but I’m starving: could I get a hamburger—extra pickles--and a cup of tea?”

“Sure thing. Anything for you, Detective?” He ordered the same, and he and Belle were left alone once again.

Belle met his eye. “So you were a cop, right?”

She had probably heard the gossip. A lot of it was true, too. Dirty cop. Disgraced.

“I was, until I decided that I preferred working for myself. I’m a private detective now.”

There was no judgment in her eyes. “What made you change your mind?”

“I made some mistakes. Several mistakes. I became a police officer with the best of intentions. I wanted to help people. But somewhere along the way, I started helping myself more than the public. I’m also not very good at following orders or working with others. It’s better for me to be in business for myself.”

“At least you’re honest about it. From what I’ve overheard at the club, there are plenty of officers that are making a pretty penny for themselves. But they’re still on the public payroll.”

This woman kept surprising him. “What about yourself? It’s not every librarian that would moonlight as a cigarette girl and learn to pick locks, using a Jane Austen alias the whole time.”

She laughed, a full throaty sound. “Ah, you got that. Maybe it was a little obvious, but I took a gamble that Jones and his buddies weren’t big Austen readers.”

“Or literate.”

“Exactly.”

********

As they ate, Belle told him about her work at the library, and then the conversation turned to her friend, Anna. They had lived in the same building for two years, and had become good friends. Before her disappearance, Anna had become smitten with a man named Hans that she had met at the club. Belle had never met him, but from Anna’s description, he was handsome, charming, and well-to-do. It had been a whirlwind courtship, and they were soon engaged. Anna disappeared shortly after the engagement. In her time employed at The Blue Moon, Belle hadn’t encountered Hans, but once heard his name mentioned in passing as a business associate of Killian Jones.

“So that’s why I was in that office. I wanted to see if there were any clues about Hans or his business. Anything that might lead me to Anna. So what were you doing snooping around Jones’ office?”

He could have evaded the question. As they had been talking, though, Gold decided that he trusted Belle. Maybe she had been right earlier. Maybe they could help each other.

“It seems, Miss French, that we have more in common than both being drawn to public service and breaking into locked rooms.” He paused and sipped his coffee. “A young woman recently hired me to find her sister. They had been estranged for several years. All she knew was that her sister had moved to the city. The woman’s name is Elsa, and her sister’s name is Anna.”

Belle’s eyes went wide. “So we’ve been working on the same case all along!”

“Indeed. I learned from one of my old police acquaintances that Anna matched the description of a young woman that had gone missing. I found out that she worked at The Blue Moon. At the club I heard that she had been friendly with a young man that used to visit fairly often. I hadn’t been able to find out much about him or where he came from, or how serious their relationship had become. I never heard that they were engaged.”

“That makes sense. Anna said that when they’d go out, it was always away from the club. It seemed weird to me. Anyway—go ahead.”

“Before you joined me in Mr. Jones’ office, I was able to briefly look through one of his ledgers. I did see records of payments received from a Hans Westergaard. I also saw reference to a company owned by someone named Westergaard. Their offices are near the harbor.”

“You’re able to remember all that after only a short look?”

“Would it be bragging to tell you that I have photographic memory?”

“That’s a great lead! It has to be connected. How many guys named Hans could be visiting the club? I want to help you investigate that company.” She took a sip of her tea. “We are working together on this now, right?”

Gold had told her that he didn’t work well with others, but Belle was different. She was earnest, and she knew Anna personally and recently. She was smart and resourceful, and most importantly, she cared about finding her friend.

Belle bit her lip (an adorable habit that he noticed before), waiting for his answer. “So…partners?”

“Partners.” He raised his cup to hers, and they toasted on it. Belle gave him a wonderful, toothy smile.

They were interrupted by Granny leaving the bill on the table. He went up to the counter to pay the bill and when he returned, Belle was humming along with the song playing on the radio behind the counter. The sound of Judy Garland singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” filled the diner, and Belle softly joined in:

“Someday soon, we all will be together If the fates allow Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow…”

She sighed as the song finished. “I love that song. It’s so sad, but there is sadness at Christmas, too, you know? Remembering loved ones who are gone. It makes me think of my mom. She loved Christmas. She died seven years ago, but I still miss her so much.”

Gold couldn’t believe that he heard his own voice confessing in kind. “It never really goes away, I suppose. My son loved Christmas, too. I always miss him, but especially at this time of year.”

Belle gave him a sad, sympathetic smile. “I didn’t know you had a son.”

“We had a falling out when I was still with the police. He didn’t approve of the way I had taken to doing my job. I haven’t seen him in years. I wish I could find him and make amends.”

Perhaps that was why his missing person cases were the ones that meant the most to him. If he couldn’t be reunited with his boy, at least he could help others find their loved ones.

Apparently able to read his mind, Belle reached across the table and grasped his hand. “We will find Anna, and reunite her with her sister.”

Gold looked down at their joined hands. He believed that they would, too. With her determination, how could they not?

Belle looked at her wristwatch, then moved to stand up. “Well, I guess Santa won’t come if we don’t get home soon.”

“I think he’s crossed me off of his list.”

“Mmmm…you never know. You could always try bribing him with cookies and milk. After all, it worked on the cleaning staff at the club.”

“That cost a little more than some cookies.” He offered Belle’s coat to her, helping her into it. “Shall we?”

As they walked out the door, they were welcomed by an unbelievable sight. Rain was one thing, but now it had started to snow—snow—in Los Angeles. Belle giggled in delight.

“Oh, my goodness! A white Christmas! See, Mr. Gold? Miracles can happen.”

“Every so often. And please call me Rupert. I mean, if you’d like. Since we’re partners.” He hailed a passing taxi.

Belle formally offered him her hand. “Rupert, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Belle.”

He took her little, gloved hand in his. “A delight, Belle. I trust I’ll see you soon?”

“Would Sunday morning at 9:00 work? I don’t have to work—either job—on Sundays.”

“Sunday it is. In front of the library?”

Belle nodded, and he opened the taxi’s rear door. She turned to get into the car, then impulsively spun around and hugged him.

“Merry Christmas, Rupert.”

Snow fell around them, and the bells from a church celebrating Midnight Mass sounded in the distance. Gold closed his eyes and returned the embrace. Belle was tiny, but he felt fully enveloped in her warmth for that all-too-brief moment. She pulled back and gave him one last smile.

“Merry Christmas, Belle.”

Belle waved goodbye through the window, and the taxi drove off. Gold watched the car disappear down the street, still feeling the imprint of Belle’s warmth and softness against his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that kind of peace.

It seemed that Miss French really did have a talent for unlocking closed doors.

#rumbelle secret santa #delintthedarkone #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #my fic #once in a blue moon #awkward detective dorks

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boushh2187 · 6 years

Text

Surprises Past and Present

Rumbelle Secret Santa 2017

Title: Surprises Past and Present

By: boushh2187

Fandom/Pairing: Once Upon a Time / Rumbelle

Word Count: 3476

Rated: G

Gift for @missielynne

Prompt: Dark Castle AU Surprise

Summary: As a winter storm approaches, Belle finds something unexpected on the grounds of the Dark Castle, but will Rumplestiltskin accept it?

Author’s Notes: To my giftee @missielynne… I hope you enjoy the story and find it suitably fluffy! I enjoyed being your Santa, and loved playing with your prompt. :) Happy Holidays!

A storm was coming. Belle could hear the wind outside. She was warm and dry within the stables of the Dark Castle, tending to the horses. They were fed and watered. She brushed the last horse and smiled. He was her favorite. He was a mild mannered, chestnut colored horse. She had decided to call him Philippe. She wasn’t clear if Rumplestiltskin had names for the carriage horses, but she was going to keep on calling him Philippe until she heard otherwise.

She was grateful that she didn’t have to clean up after the horses anymore. She didn’t mind, but it was hard work, and impractical in the ball gown she used to wear on these grounds. It might be easier now, in her more functional peasant attire, but thankfully Rumplestiltskin must have taken pity on her and magically kept the stables clean. She smiled to herself, and brushed a stray strand of brown hair out of her eyes. Rumplestiltskin could be kind every now and then.

“There you go, Philippe. All done.” She put the brush aside and petted Philippe’s head. “You’ll all be comfortable in here when the snow arrives.” It actually was rather warm and cozy, more so than one would expect, and Belle wondered if Rumplestiltskin had something to do with that as well.

As Belle began to make her way toward the stable doors, she heard a rustling sound. The horses turned their heads toward the sound but didn’t seem startled by it. Belle moved towards it and cocked her head to the side, trying to get a better view beyond the large bodied horses. Perhaps it was a rodent? She took one of the pitchforks and moved closer. “Come on now. Shoo!” she said as she tapped on the floor with the handle of the pitchfork. Out of the darker corners, amongst bales of hay, there was some movement. It was something larger than a rodent. It moved closer, and toward the light from the lantern. It was a fluffy, black and white dog. It approached Belle with its head lowered and wagging its tail. It’s expression was soft and friendly.

“Well hello there,” Belle said. “Where did you come from? I haven’t seen any dogs in the castle before.” She bent down and the dog approached her. She reached out and let the dog sniff her hand. It was only a moment before the dog began to turn in circles in a friendly display, sliding against Belle’s legs, almost like a cat would. “You’re definitely the friendly sort.” Belle laughed.

She was considering leaving the dog behind. It would be safe here to weather out the storm. She could quickly fetch some food and water before the storm came. There was some additional rustling, and Belle noticed something that had her thinking twice about leaving the dog in this stable. Rumplestiltskin would be none the wiser if the dog stayed here. However, this new development made her want to take the dog in, and she didn’t care if Rumplestiltskin wasn’t happy about it.

Rumplestiltskin was finding it difficult to concentrate on sorting his scrolls of spells. Belle was taking much longer than usual over at the stables. He knew she enjoyed tending to the horses, and perhaps she was taking extra care because there was a storm approaching. He walked over to one of the windows in the tower and looked out at the evening sky. The wind was picking up and there were snowflakes swirling in the air. He tried to push away his concern for her, but it would seem that he couldn’t help himself. She’d managed to get under his skin, glittery scales and all.

Before long he spied her approaching the castle doors. He squinted his eyes. She was some distance away, but he could make out that she was clutching her cloak against her body, as the wind whipped it around. She also seemed to be holding something, but it was too dark to make it out. She was hurrying, pushing herself forward against the wind.

Rumplestiltskin made his way down the stairs. With a quick bit of magic he made sure the fires were roaring, and sat himself down at his spinning wheel, looking as though he had been spinning all along without care.

The doors opened and Belle stepped inside, shaking off the cold and snow.

“Took you long enough,” he said, gruffly. He continued to spin without turning.

“There was something of a surprise in the stables,” Belle said. Her voice was sweet, and quiet, and accompanied by a panting sound… and some whimpering.

Rumplestiltskin’s head whipped towards Belle who was placing a basket on top of the large table. He widened his eyes at the sight before him. There was a medium sized black and white fluff of a dog circling around Belle’s legs, and Belle was lifting a small puppy out of the basket. That puppy was followed by another, and then another. Three black and white additional balls of fluff were placed on the floor near their mother.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“Please try not be angry. They were in the stables. I don’t know how long they’ve been here. Perhaps she brought them in because of the storm. I couldn’t just leave them there.”

“They’re sheep dogs! They belong outside, not in the castle!”

“Oh but look at how young they are. It’s safer for them to be here.”

“Take them back to the stable.”

“If they go back to the stable, then I’m going with them.”

“If it’s warm and safe enough for the horses then it will be good enough for the lot of you,” he said, stubbornly.

“Fine!” She grabbed her cloak and put it back on. “Come on little ones, we’re going back.”

She placed the puppies back inside the basket, all the while talking sweetly to all of the dogs, and glaring at Rumplestiltskin. When she was done she sauntered off towards the doors in a huff, her cloak and skirt whipping in the air in a dramatic fashion.

Rumplestiltskin nervously rubbed his fingers together as he watched her go. He didn’t want to give in, but he didn’t want Belle spending the night in the stable either.

“Wait!” he grumbled. The fireplaces around the room roared once again. Belle stopped in her tracks, and the dog hopped up on her legs, sniffing at the basket while wagging her tail.

“I suppose there isn’t any harm to them staying just the one night.”

Belle turned back, smiling broadly at him. “I knew you wouldn’t let us go back out there,” she said, unlatching her cloak and making her way back towards him. The dog followed, happily. She placed the basket on the floor and the puppies started to try and crawl out.

“Don’t make too much of it. I simply don’t want you smelling more of horses than you already do.” He placed a basket of straw nearer so he could begin spinning again, and as his back was turned he felt something hit him in the back. It was Belle’s cloak.

He turned and waved a finger at her as the cloak slid down his back. “Careful. You wouldn’t want to anger me,” he warned, though to his own ears he didn’t sound very serious. He was getting soft. He tossed her cloak onto the table, and one of the puppies tried to catch the edge that hung towards the floor. He wobbled and fell over.

“I don’t really smell like horses, do I?” Belle said, pouting as she sat down in a nearby chair, one of the puppies in her lap.

Rumplestiltskin sniffed the air. “Hmmm… a bit.” He tilted his head and turned his hand from side to side.

“I don’t!” Belle said, taking a sniff of her sleeve. Rumplestiltskin laughed.

The snow fell and the wind whistled outside, but inside the Dark Castle it was warm and bright. Belle went through her duties around the castle, and even tended to the horses daily, but the puppies and their mother stayed inside. They brought her much joy, and she knew that Rumplestiltskin enjoyed having them bounding about as well. At first she would catch him patting one puppy on the head, or quietly slip a bit of food to their mother while he was eating at the table. Then as time went by and the puppies grew, he spun play things out of wool and straw.

At the moment Belle sat curled up in a chair by the fire reading. The mother dog was at her feet fast asleep. Belle had taken to calling her Molly. She looked out of the corner of her eye and smiled. Rumplestiltskin was sitting on the nearby footstool she wasn’t using, and tossing his homemade puppy toys to each of the puppies. They were having a ball fetching them and bringing them back. They hadn’t named the puppies, but Rumplestiltskin had woven them colored collars to wear around their necks. They called them by the colors of their collars: blue, green, red. They had distinct markings, but the puppies were so active much of the time that they usually looked like blurry black and white puffs of fur.

One of the puppies, the red collared one, pulled himself onto her chair and dropped one of the toys beside her. She laughed, and tossed it far across the room. The puppy bolted after it. Molly lifted her head and wagged her tail, but she didn’t make a run for the toy herself. Earlier in the day, while letting the horses out for a walk around the stable, Belle and Rumplestiltskin had allowed the dogs to play around outside in the snow for quite some time, and Molly seemed more content to nap than continue the play session.

Belle hid a smile behind her book. Rumplestiltskin had two puppies in his lap that were trying to jump up and sniff and lick his face, but he kept petting them instead, making them back down through that act of affection. He was smiling, and distracting them with the toys again. Belle found him endearing. She felt her cheeks blush. The more time she spent with him she saw him behave in ways that she hadn’t expected, and she liked him, quite a lot, when he was like this.

Weeks later...

It was time. Belle picked up each puppy, kissing each one on the head in turn. Rumplestiltskin handed her a large basket, and she placed them inside one by one. The puppies had grown since they were first discovered and a larger basket was needed. He draped a small blanket around them to try and keep them warm.

“I can’t believe it’s time to let them go,” Belle said. Rumplestiltskin found her expression heartbreaking, and her blue eyes were wet with tears that she hadn’t shed. He hoped she didn’t start crying. He’d feel compelled to comfort her, and they were about to go out into town. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see him so concerned for his maid.

“Now, now,” Rumplestiltskin said, as he reached a hand out to help her into the carriage. “You’ve found good homes for all three of them.”

Belle stepped into the carriage and sat down. She placed the basket next to her, and wrapped her arm around it to keep the puppies from wiggling out. Rumplestiltskin took the large blanket he kept in the carriage and draped it over Belle’s lap. “There. You’ll be warm now.”

“I know the farmer and sheepherders will benefit from having these dogs. They are kind people and they are very grateful. They have families too. I think these puppies would be wonderful with the children,” Belle said, obviously trying to remind herself that she was doing the right thing. They both were taking the time to pet the puppies before they made their way to the farmlands.

“This is the right decision, Belle. As much as you enjoyed having them around, it’s time for them to move on.”

“You enjoyed them too. I know you did.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged in a noncommittal fashion. He tapped his leg and Molly jumped in the carriage too. She flopped right down in between the two benches, thumping the floor with her wagging tail. He took the other end of the blanket and stretched it over Molly, and he sat down on the bench opposite Belle. They shared the blanket, and Molly was underneath, already beginning to doze.

Rumplestiltskin raised his hand and the horses started off, pulling the carriage towards town.

“If no one claims Molly, we can keep her,” he said, quietly, hoping that this would make Belle feel a bit better. They had been looking for Molly’s family but hadn’t found anyone yet.

“Oh! I thought we would find her another home too!” Belle said, her eyes wide.

“We could… or we could keep her.” He checked on Molly underneath the blanket, and when he looked up Belle was smiling at him. He frowned at her, not wanting her to know how much it pleased him to see her happy. “What are you smiling at?”

“Oh nothing… nothing at all,” Belle said, looking away with that knowing smile of hers, as she deposited a wiggling puppy back in the basket. It was going to be a long trip to the farmlands, but somehow Rumplestiltskin didn’t mind.

The snow was falling in Storybrooke, Maine. Belle quickly locked up the library. She was closing early due to the oncoming snow, especially since there were no public hours at the library today. It was mid-afternoon and Mary Margaret had offered to give her and Gideon a ride home after school. Rumplestiltskin was going to stay later at the shop. Apparently he was working on something that couldn’t wait, otherwise he would pick them up and they’d go home together as had become their custom.

Some days little Gideon would stay with Belle at the library, while at other times he would spend the day at the shop with his father. Occasionally he’d spend the time at daycare so he could play with the other babies and toddlers in Storybrooke. Today he had spent the day with Granny, which he seemed to enjoy. Granny was always good with children, and Gideon seemed to like people watching. The hustle and bustle of the diner was good entertainment for him, every now and then.

Belle walked speedily across the street and towards the diner. The snow was starting to accumulate, and she hoped that Rumple wouldn’t take a long time at the shop and have to drive in heavy snow. She’d even be okay with him using magic to get safely home.

She quickly ducked into the diner as a customer was exiting. Granny was already getting Gideon ready in his warm winter clothes, complete with a winter hat with bunny ears. She couldn’t help but burst into a smile at the sight of her little man. He saw her as soon as she walked in and was reaching out to her. “Hello there, pumpkin,” she said, as Granny placed the six month old in her arms. “Did you have a good afternoon?”

“Oh he had a ball. Grumpy was in her making silly faces and making him laugh for half the time.”

“Oh that was sweet of him to entertain Gideon.”

“He’s a sweet kid. No trouble at all. We love having him here.”

“Thank you, Granny.” Belle nodded at Granny in appreciation, then turned to Gideon. “We have to get home before your Papa so that we can get his surprise ready!”

“Oh, big plans?”

“Well Gideon and Rumple surprised me this morning with breakfast in bed, so I thought that Gideon and I would return the favor and bake some of Rumple’s favorite cookies. They also might be Gideon’s favorite too,” Belle said with a wink.

“Breakfast in bed, huh? He’s more attentive than I thought.”

Belle recalled how Rumple had walked into their bedroom with a tray of food balanced in one hand, and bouncing Gideon up and down in his other arm. He had placed the tray in front of her and gently laid down next to her with Gideon in between them. Gideon was pushing up and down on the bed, slightly upsetting the balance of the food tray. They didn’t mind. Belle shared her breakfast with the two of them, feeding them each in turn. It was a lovely morning.

“Oh Rumple’s very attentive, thank you. He takes good care of us, and we take good care of him. Isn’t that right, Gideon?”

Gideon cooed in return, and Belle giggled. “Well it’s time for us to get going. I see our ride.”

“Best get home before it really starts snowing,” Granny advised.

“This will be Gideon’s first big snowfall. We’re so excited! Good night!” she used Gideon’s hand to wave at Granny, and headed towards the exit while talking to Gideon. “Wait until Papa gets home. Maybe you’ll get to play a bit in the snow.”

In no time Belle and Gideon were home and had finished up the holiday themed sugar cookies. Belle placed them out in the living room for Rumple to see when he walked in. They were made of mostly teddy bear shapes and train shapes. Gideon “picked out” the cookie cutters by tossing them off the table.

He also made a mess playing with the flour. He was covered in enough white flour that he didn’t need to go out playing in the snow tonight. It was close enough. Belle chuckled, as she cleaned him up. She was just finishing getting him dressed when she heard the car pull into the driveway.

“Papa’s home!” she told Gideon, excitedly. She brought him down and put him in his bouncy chair near the cookies, ready for his Papa.

Rumple opened the door and stepped into the warm home he shared with his new family. He brushed off the snow from his coat, and took off his boots. He kept his coat on and made sure that the surprise he’d brought for his wife and son was safely hidden away.

He caught sight of Gideon, tossing his plastic blocks on the floor as usual. The window behind him had the curtains open, and the snow could be seen falling steadily outside. He also noticed a spread of cookies on the table. “This is a welcome sight,” he said, with a grin.

“Pa, pa, da, da!!” shouted Gideon, as he threw another plastic block onto the floor.

“Belle!” Rumple called. “I think he’s saying, Papa!”

Belle walked in with a tray of evening tea. “He could just as easily be saying, Panda,” she told him with a wink and a smile.

“Pan da pa da!” Gideon chimed in.

Belle placed the tray down on the table and sat down on the couch next to Gideon. She picked up a few of the discarded plastic blocks.

“You two are quite the comic duo,” Rumple said. He gave Gideon a quick kiss on the forehead, and then settled down on the couch next to Belle. They shared a quick kiss before Belle pulled away.

“You’re still wearing your coat,” she noted, raising her eyebrow.

“Mmhmm.”

“And I know we had a big breakfast but you look and feel somewhat larger than you did this morning…”

“It’s possible,” he said, with a chuckle. At that moment there was some wiggling underneath his coat. He might have to let them in on his secret sooner rather than later.

“What are you up to, Rumple?” Belle asked, with an excited looking expression.

She might be onto him. He undid the top button of his coat, and then the next button… and a small black and white furry head popped out from inside his coat. Belle all but squealed with delight. “Is he ours?”

“He is,” Rumple said with a laugh as Belle began unbuttoning his coat to free the puppy.

Belle gathered the puppy in her lap. “He’s adorable! But how are we going to manage with a baby and a puppy!”

“We’ll manage. I’ve already spoken to Henry, and he’s going to help us with walks. I can take him to the shop with me on most days while he’s still learning.” He took her hand in his, and petted the puppy with the other. “You and I can do anything, sweetheart.”

“I always knew you were a big softie,” Belle said, as she leaned forward and kissed him gently.

They spent the evening showing Gideon their new addition. Gideon would drop the blocks on the floor and the puppy would bring them right back. They had cookies and tea before dinner, just because they could, and laughed and played as the snow fell outside.

#rumbelle secret santa #missielynne #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle fanfic #rss 2017 #my fics #my stuff #surprises past and present

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

Text

In All Things 3/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Immediately after the wedding, Gold and Belle depart and spend a slightly awkward carriage ride together.

Notes: This got so damn long. Oops. Have some idiots trying to figure out how to person around each other.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2]

As soon as Lord Gold announced their departure, Avonlea became a flurry of activity.

Astrid fretted about everything. She flitted between chests and dressers in Belle’s chambers, directing two other maids until as many of Belle’s dresses, underclothes, and shoes were packed as possible. The steward, Edmund, was in a tizzy as his usual authority was usurped by the presence of Gold. A fine carriage pulled by four horses waited at the front steps of the manor, with a small wagon behind it for the bulk of Belle’s belongings.

“Do you want me to pack the red dress?” Astrid asked, holding up the garment in question with the bulky skirt draped over her arm.

Belle made a face at the garish dress with its layers of frills and ribbons, and shook her head. “Heaven’s no!”

Astrid giggled lightly at her own joke as Belle rolled her eyes, and pulled another out of the large armoire. “How about the green?”

Belle tilted her head as she studied the dress. Like the red gown, she’d only worn it once, but that wasn’t because she disliked it. It was a different style from her usual outfits, more slim and sleek, clinging gently to her curves in a way she wasn’t accustomed to. It was a lush velvet lined with silk, and the gold thread embroidery at the neck and cuffs gave it a simple but rich look.

Finally, she sighed. “Yes, fine, I’ll bring it as well.”

Her head wasn’t in the right place to be picky about her outfits. She turned to open the trunk at the foot of her bed and pulled out a worn leather satchel. Just as she was slipping her book inside, pausing to check that Gold’s letter was still tucked inside, she turned back to Astrid.

“Oh, and the new blue one!”

Astrid stopped and looked at her wide eyed. “You’re sure?”

Belle gave her a small smile and nodded firmly. “Yes. I’m not going to let one bad incident with Sir Gaston ruin a perfectly lovely dress I had made special.”

Astrid’s mouth curve as she dipped in a quick curtsy. “Of course, my Lady.”

After a few more minutes of commotion in her rooms, Belle hurried off to the library, and tried to calm her nerves by focusing on the selection of books that would get her through the first weeks in her new home. She tucked each one into her leather satchel, laying them flat on the bottom, one on top of the other, seven high, and then an eighth along the side. The flap of the bag strained as she folded it over and latched the buckle.

“You could bring them all, you know.”

Belle startled and nearly dropped the bag on her foot as her head snapped up. Gold was standing in the door of the library with a bemused smile, and she felt her face flush.

“Oh, Lord Gold -” She stopped and chided herself silently. “Cameron. I was just -”

“I mean it,” he said, pushing off the door frame and ambling slowly towards her. His cane thumped softly against the wood floor, and her hands tightened around the strap of the bag.

“You can bring them all,” he repeated, casting his eyes around the room. “My library has plenty of space.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t.” She gave him a sheepish shrug, secretly pleased that he seemed to have a large library as well. “They’re not all mine.”

Gold let out a soft chuckle and looked down at her bag. “We could send for the ones that are later, if you like.”

She nodded and relaxed. “Thank you.”

“It’s no matter,” he said quietly. “I assume you like to read then?”

Her eyes drifted to the shelf as she spoke. “Yes, I - I do. Very much.”

“Good,” Gold muttered. “That’s...good.”

Belle wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but the fact that he was so willing to allow her space in his library and to pay for all her books to be moved was enough for now. Gaston abhorred not only reading anything that wasn't a battle plan, he also seemed to have a distaste for well-read women. Gold was, at the very least, not in that category.

“Your, um, maid -” he started to say.

“Astrid,” she supplied.

“Astrid,” he said, his eyebrows lifting, “is a bit...anxious.”

Belle bit her lip, smiling. “Yes, she’s - she’s a dear friend, but excitable at the best of times.”

“Indeed.” His fingers flexed around the hand of his cane, a motion she’d noticed while they were in her father’s office, and later in the garden. “Did you, um, want her to come with you?”

Belle’s eyes brightened. “You don’t mind?”

He made a face, the corner of his mouth curving. “Of course not. I have plenty of staff available to you, but if you like, we can send for her and your books as soon as we’re home and settled.”

Home.

She swallowed. This was home, her father’s manor, and the lands owned by her mother’s family. Right now she couldn’t imagine calling anywhere else her home, but that would be changing all too soon. At least having Astrid and her books would help her feel more at ease.

“Thank you,” she managed, and Gold gave a short nod before he turned and left.

The carriage rocked as they cross over a rough patch of road, rutted by rain and the heavy war wagons that passed by a few days ago. Belle pitched forward with a squeal as the wheels bounced, catching herself on the handle of the door. Gold reached for her, taking her by the arm and guiding her until she was seated next to him, her back to the driver and horses.

“There,” he said, once she was stable. “Better?”

She nodded and pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the laces of the corset under her gloved hand. Her left leg was pressed solidly against Gold’s and he was still holding her hand in his. She glanced up at his face, catching a hint of concern in his eyes. Facing the opposite way made the ride much more stable, if a bit bumpier, but instead of it nearly throwing her to the floor when the carriage lurched, it tipped her backwards, against the seat cushion.

‘Yes,” she managed, a bit breathless. “Much better.”

She looked out the window, catching a fading glimpse of Avonlea as they started down the hill to the main road. Her lips trembled and she pressed her lips together as the front gate and the large trees to either side disappeared from view, dipping down behind the tall grasses swaying gently in the wind. As they came around the bend at the bottom of the slope, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun warmed her face and dried her unshed tears, making the corners of her eyes feel tight. She turned her face away from Gold and rubbed at them, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

Gold was still holding her hand, a fact which she only noticed as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Are you all right?”

She exhaled slowly and nodded. “Yes, yes I’m fine.”

He leaned forward a bit, dipping his head to try to catch a look at her face, and she finally turned to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” she repeated, more to herself than to him.

His lips curved slightly and he sat back, seemingly satisfied for now, though he did not let go of her hand. She wondered at the small contact between them now that he had shifted further to the other side of the seat and leaned his elbow on the edge of the window. His hand was warm and loose around hers, as if to allow her to pull away at any time, but she found it oddly comforting, even from a man she barely knew.

There was an implicit trust bestowed by his letter, and strengthened by his request that she stand by his son at the appropriate time. It was as if he was making a deal with her and not her father, that the repayment of her family’s debts was more a means to secure this favor rather than a wife. It made her curious and nervous at the same time. She wanted to know the full story of how he had come to need to make such a request and understand his need, but a caution stirred low in her belly that the answer might not be pleasing to hear.

“How far is it to - your estate?” she asked finally.

Gold glanced at her and then fixed his eyes out the window once more, rubbing a finger over his lips before he spoke as if he had to calculate the distance in his mind. “I’d say thirty miles.”

Her eyes widened at that. By carriage that would take several hours, meaning they would arrive very late and long after dark.

“Don’t worry,” he continued, as if sensing her concern. “It’s good road and we’ll make better time than you might think.”

She sighed a little. “It will still be quite late by the time we get there.”

“Yes,” he conceded, giving her hand one last squeeze before he pulled it away and settled it in his lap. “But there will be time to see Thornhill in all its glory in the morning.”

“Thornhill?”

Gold nodded and flashed her a small smile. “The name of the estate.” She let out a small ‘oh,’ and he let out a short, soft laugh. “I kept the name when I purchased it.”

Belle frowned. Most of the nobility named their manors and estates to something associated with the family, but then again most had built them from nothing, not purchased them like a common house.

“Why?” She heard herself ask the question, and immediately clamped her mouth shut, pressing her fingers to her lips as Gold gave her a curious, sideways look. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

He shifted in his seat until he was tucked in the corner, facing her, and she noted once again how much smaller he was compared to Gaston and the other men who had been possible suitors.

“You’re not prying,” he said. “It will be your home, and you have every right to know its history.” She smiled at that and he continued. “I kept it because it seemed fitting. The land around it aren’t very suitable for farming, though they do well enough to support the estate and the people. I didn’t understand at first why anyone would name their home something that seemed so...negative, but the gardens, well, they’ll explain it soon enough.”

Belle’s head tilted. “Gardens?”

He hummed in affirmation. “They are...extensive.” Her eyes went wide, and his face cracked into a wide grin. “Am I going to be regularly sending out a search party when you get lost in the hedge maze?”

She startled and gasped, and he laughed. It was a warm, pleasant sound, and she let her head drop, snickering softly to herself as well. “I’ll just take some bread with me and drop crumbs as I go so I can find my way back.”

“The birds will love you for it,” he said, still smiling.

She bit her lip, cheeks flushing with mild embarrassment. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

The lines by his eyes crinkled, and in the faint light from the setting sun the flecks of gold become more prominent. Her mind flashed to what they might look like in the firelight if they sat together some winter evening, and the thought was so sudden and strange, that her grin immediately faded and she shifted in her seat.

“I was teasing, by the way,” Gold said after a long moment.

She looked at him sideways, her eyebrows lifted. “There’s no hedge maze?”

“No, there is. But it’s not very large and I have every confidence you’d be able to find your way without issue. Bae loves playing in it, and I’m sure he’d be glad to have another party to lead through it.”

She sat back and breathed out, her nerves returning at the mention of Gold’s son. She wasn’t sure about being a step-mother, but then she also wasn’t sure that Gold intended her to be one at all.

“I suppose I’ll have to wait until morning to meet him.”

Gold sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. Perhaps we should have stayed in Avonlea for the night?”

She shook her head, unsure if she would have preferred delaying the inevitable or not. “No, it’s - it’s best we got moving, I think.”

“We can visit anytime you like, Belle,” he offered, fingers stretching out to brush her hand where it rested on the seat. "I'm not stealing you away from your father to lock you in a tower."

Her gaze darted to the side, watching as his index finger traced the bump of her knuckle, and barely suppressed a shiver.

“I know,” she managed, letting her eyes trailing up to meet Gold’s. "And thank you - Cameron."

He gave her another of his crooked half smiles, and they both settled into a comfortable silence.

The sun had fully set less than an hour later. All that could be seen through the windows of the carriage were spotty, distant flickers of light from the cottages and farms that dotted the landscape between Avonlea and Thornhill. A larger glow could be seen in the next valley, and Gold looked over, ready to comment on their passing of Longbourn, the village nearest to Avonlea and the farthest North edge of Lord Maurice's lands.

He smiled and sighed as he saw Belle's sweet face, deep asleep. Reaching down, he pulled a wool blanket out of the bin under the seat and laid it over her. She let out a soft sigh, and he swallowed, looking away as the carriage began to climb the slope of the next hill.

He hadn’t expected Lady Belle to be so beautiful or kind, or for her personality to be so appealing. His hope had been to find her well read, trustworthy, and tolerable enough to suit his plans, but the moment he laid eyes on her, he began to hate himself. She could have any man she wanted, and here he was taking advantage of her family’s financial situation, using it to trap her into a marriage that she clearly didn’t want.

The carriage went around a bend and the wheels caught in the ruts, rocking the entire thing side to side. Gold brace against the door and looked over at Belle just in time to see her tip to the side and come to rest against his shoulder. She sniffed in her sleep and made a small, quiet noise. He held his breath until she settled, and then exhaled slowly. Instinct made him want to put his arm around her and help her lay more comfortably, but propriety held him back. A promise had been made, in writing. Nothing more than she was willing to give, even if she was unaware and blissfully asleep on a bumpy road.

His fingers curled against his leg, fisting over his trousers as he inhaled her scent. The perfume she was wearing reminded him of the gardens in the peak of summer, when the warm breeze carried a hint of rose and wisteria. He wondered about the circumstances of her broken engagement to Sir Gaston. While no one could blame any woman for not wanting to marry such an overbearing lummox, the entire thing had seemed to be tinged with some unknown scandal. He assumed it to be entirely on Sir Gaston’s side, given the man’s known propensity for drink and women, but the way Maurice had spoken of it hinted at more.

Another rough patch of road left Gold groaning and rubbing at his leg as a sharp pain pulsed through the muscles from foot to thigh. He shifted and stretched it out as best he could, careful not to jostle Belle too much. Her hand came up and curled around his arm, and he couldn’t help but smile even through the agony in his ankle as he rotated it one way and the other until the cramping ceased. His hand came up and covered hers, feeling the smooth warm skin beneath his palm, even against his better judgement and the nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him to keep a safe distance. His future held nothing but sorrow, save for his son, and the last thing he wanted was for Belle to be hurt by association.

Everything he was doing was for Baeden, but he did hope the boy liked Belle, at least as much as Gold feared he himself would.

Belle awoke in the carriage with a start, and heard the telltale sound of the wheels rolling over stones instead of dirt.

She sat up and looked around, confused momentarily until she realized she’d been leaning on Gold’s shoulder as she slept. “Sorry,” she mumbled, flushing red with embarrassment.

He gave her a strange look and shrugged. “It’s no matter.”

“We’ve arrived,” she said, leaning forward to look out of the window of the carriage.

He inclined his head. “We have indeed.”

He pushed open the door on his side and came around to hers, offering her a hand as she stepped down. She looked up with wide eyes at the large structure, so much higher and wider than Avonlea.

“It’s...”

“Much prettier in the daylight,” he finished for her, with a flat look that gave away his sarcastic intent.

Belle let out a soft laugh, and then Gold gave orders to the valet and two servants who had come out to greet them.

“All of the trunks in the wagon go to Lady Belle’s rooms in the south wing.”

The men nodded and began unloading, as meanwhile Belle stared up at Thornhill with apprehension. It was so much bigger than she’d imagined, more like the king’s palace than an estate home, and she marveled at how Gold had come to acquire it. Had it been available so cheaply, or was his wealth even more than she’d first understood.

A touch at her arm shook her from her contemplation and she turned to see Gold watching her.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering her his arm.

She could do no more than nod, and took his arm, letting him lead her through the front archway into a wide courtyard. There were sculpted shrubs and potted plants lining the way as they walked through it to what she presumed was the front door. Inside, a wide staircase lead up to the second floor, wide enough for three people to walk side by side. There wasn’t time to look around the rest of the foyer, or any of the other rooms before they headed upstairs.

“This is the way to the family bedrooms,” he said as he lead her down a hallway that ran from the front of the house to the back. She gave him a sideways look as they came to an end, and he added, “They have the best view of the gardens.”

Belle smiled at that, and let him guide her around the corner to the left. The corridor was shorter than she expected, and lined with three doors on either side. She began to wonder how long it would take her to decipher the labyrinth of halls and rooms and stairs that made up Thornhill. A month? A year? Perhaps young Bae would be as delighted to show her around the house as he would be the hedge maze.

“This hall is yours,” Gold declared. “There’s two sitting rooms, here and here, a bathing room, small library...”

She gasped in surprise and delight, and then covered her mouth with her hand. Giving her a bemused smile, he continued on. “A dressing room there, and this...” He stopped and slipped his arm from hers to open a set of double doors at the very end of the corridor. “This is your room.”

Belle stepped inside, her lips pressed together as she took it all in. It was more rooms than she’d ever occupied at Avonlea and she wasn’t sure she’d ever find enough things or purposes to fill them all. The bedroom was wide but not too large that the single fireplace, which itself was sizable, couldn’t warm the space. At one end was a canopied bed with curtains tied back on either side. There was only a small chest of drawers and a vanity, she presumed because an entire room was devoted to storing her clothing, a fact that still had part of her mind spinning. A curved chaise and two chairs made a small sitting area near the fireplace, and along the back wall was a set of four large windows, two of which opened onto a terrace.

“Consider these a blank canvas. You can change anything that isn’t to your liking,” Gold added from the doorway. “I fear I’ve left them rather plain and awaiting the right touch.”

She barely heard him as she moved forward, running her hand over the edges of the furniture. She approached the window nearest the bed and lifted back the curtain to peer into the darkness. A few torches lit the patio below, but she couldn’t see much more than a few feet of grass and more potted plants set along the edge of the stone pavers.

“It looks rather nice in the sunlight,” he said, standing just behind her.

Her lips twitched and she glanced up at him over her shoulder. “And if I don’t like the view?”

Gold’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “Then I’m sure we can find another room with another view that you will like better.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure this one will be lovely.”

“Well,” he said, smoothing his hands down the front of his coat. It was lightly creased from so long in the carriage, but she thought he still looked quite nice. “It’s late and -”

“Where is your room?” she asked abruptly. She didn’t know where the thought had come from, but once it was there she couldn’t help but let it out.

“The other end,” he said simply. “Of the hall.”

She blinked, surprised that he’d be so close by. Sir Gaston had promised her space in an entire wing of his estate, enough to keep her far away from his rooms and whatever went on there. Her own parents were separated by the entire width of Avonlea manor. Gold was so near that she could poke her head out of her bedroom door and see his at the opposite end.

Gold’s hand twisted against the hand of his cane. “Is that - a problem?”

“No!” She paused and swallowed. “No, it’s - it’s fine. I was just - curious is all. I’m sorry.”

“It’s no matter.” He said before he took a step back and bowed at the waist. “I will bid you goodnight, at and let you get settled before bed.”

“Goodnight,” she replied. “Cameron.”

A small smile crinkled his eyes again, and he bowed a second time. Goodnight, Belle.”

A long slow breath left her after the door close and she dropped down on the mattress, closing her eyes for a moment.

Thornhill.

Her new home. With her new husband just at the end of the hall.

Opening her eyes, she looked around the room again and starting to smile. Her hands roamed over the fabric, testing with gentle pushes. The mattress and pillows were plush and soft, perhaps the most decadent she’d ever touched, and she’d stayed several nights at the King’s summer palace with Ariel. Her hand traced the faint pattern stitched into the creamy white duvet, the delicate blue thread tucking the fabric to make fluffy hills and narrow valleys.

She smiled and bit her lip. Lord Gold - Cameron - she corrected herself, again, had told her that her rooms were a blank canvas, awaiting her touch, her preferences. Yet as she looked around the already well appointed room, with its soft colors and wide balcony overlooking the ample gardens, she wasn’t sure if there was anything she would change.

In fact, she was considering that perhaps there was nothing she would change about the situation at all, her marriage included.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #my rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #arranged marriage au #in all things #fic

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smartgirlsaremean · 7 years

Text

The Question Falls - Chapter 7

Fandom: OUAT

Pairing: Rumbelle, Swanfire, Dragon Queen

Rating: E

Summary: Divorce attorney Gold knows better than to fall in love with a client. Really he does.

Chapter 7 - Belle and Gold attend a charity event and Belle meets several important people.

AO3

“Art Start? I’ve never heard of it.” Belle twirled pasta around her fork and Gold shrugged a little self-consciously.

“It’s a smaller program, not big enough to show up on most people’s radars, but Neal and I have been involved for a while. Drawing, creating, designing - they were all important outlets for him and - well, his adolescence could have been a lot more problematic if he hadn’t had a way to express himself.”

“More problematic? Didn’t he meet his girlfriend while they were stealing the same car?”

“They gave it back. Eventually.”

“You’re smiling!” Belle laughed incredulously. “Oh my God, you two have the weirdest relationship ever.”

“We were very fortunate that the car’s owner had an odd sense of humor.”

“So...he got into graphic design when car theft didn’t work out?”

“No, ah, he got into tagging. And then painting on actual canvases, and then graphic design.” Gold sobered a little. “He often says art saved his life. I don’t know if he’s being dramatic or not when he says that, but it’s important to him.”

“So it’s important to you. I get that.” Belle considered her wine glass for a moment. “It’s black tie?”

“No, I managed to talk Regina down to just formal.”

“Regina?”

Gold raised his eyebrows. There was a lilt in her voice that hadn’t been there before. “Yes, she’s helped me organize the event. It’s something of a specialty with her, throwing parties.”

“Is this the same Regina with the awful sister?”

“Yes.”

“The old friend you have lunch with now and then? And the occasional dinner?”

He’d had lunch with Regina exactly once since he and Belle had started whatever this was, and she hadn’t invited him for dinner since before then. Why was she asking? What on earth was that strange tone in Belle’s voice, and why was she avoiding his gaze? The expression on her face was familiar somehow, wary and guarded, and he suddenly remembered seeing her look this way on their first coffee date. Come to think of it, she’d acted a little oddly when he mentioned Regina then, too. Realization crashed over him.

She was jealous.

“Belle?”

She met his eyes with a determinedly cheerful expression. “Hm?”

Reaching out to take her hand, he infused as much warmth and sincerity into his voice as he could. “I am not dating Regina.”

Her eyes flitted over his face and she relaxed a little. “Have you ever?”

“God, no!”

Her lips twitched. “Well, that was emphatic.”

“Sorry, it’s just…” He squeezed her hand and felt his face redden. “I, ah...I did see her mother. For a while.”

“Oh!” Eyes widening, Belle sat back in her chair. “So Regina must be a lot younger than I thought she was, but you made her sound like this high-powered businesswoman and…”

“Well, uh.” God, this was terrible. “She, uh...she’s around your age. A few years older.”

And there it was. The thing they never talked about. The thing he’d hoped to ignore for as long as this relationship lasted.

For all Belle made him feel sprightly and young and in the prime of his life - particularly in the bedroom - the cold, harsh reality was that she was easily twenty-five years younger than he was. He was old enough to be her father, and while he knew she knew there was a difference, he’d hoped they’d make it a bit farther in the relationship before she realized just how wide the age gap was.

Belle laughed a little. “Okay, so you could maybe stop sounding like it’s totally ridiculous that you could have been interested in her.”

“I’ve known her since she was eight.” He didn’t mean to sound so short, but fuck, Neal was five years older than she was. This was a disaster. Why were they even talking about how ancient he was?

“Hey.” He looked up and saw that her smile had faded, but her features were still soft and open. “You okay?”

He couldn’t answer honestly, so he shrugged and looked back down at their hands, where she was rubbing her thumb over the backs of his fingers.

“Does it bother you?” she asked. “My being younger?”

“No,” he said hesitantly. “What bothers me is my being old .”

“Older,” she corrected him, and he shrugged again. When he didn’t say anything for a few minutes, she tugged on his hand. “Roderick.” He squeezed her fingers. “Rum.”

He looked up. She’d chosen that nickname, she said, because of the color of his eyes (and also because she hated any shortened version of his real name). No one had ever given him a pet name before, and he loved that she’d had the creativity to come up with one they both liked.

“I came after you, remember?” she said gently. “Pretty shamelessly. And it wasn’t a gradual thing, being attracted to you. I walked into that office and saw you properly for the first time and I just...you were so gorgeous, sitting there scowling at those files. You knocked me for a loop.”

He’d been handsome in an unconventional way, once upon a time, and he’d known it. Used it to his advantage on more than one occasion. Somewhere between the graying hair and the crow’s feet, though, he thought he’d lost whatever appeal he might once have had. To hear Belle - a woman so beautiful she frequently turned heads walking down the street - say that she’d wanted him at first sight was a balm to his very fragile ego.

“Of course then I got to know you,” she continued, “and I found out you were much more than a pretty face, and that just made you more irresistible. But make no mistake, Roderick Gold, I wanted you for your body and your mind.”

He laughed, the conversation suddenly striking him as impossibly funny. She giggled too, and they sat there grinning into each other’s eyes like idiots until their server cleared his throat and asked if they’d like the check.

They would indeed, and later, when she had him sweating and cursing and panting underneath her in her bed, he stopped marveling at the mere fact of being there and paid full attention to her responses: how eager she was to touch him, how vocal she was when he touched her, how surprisingly easy it was to bring her to climax, and how thrilled she looked when he came with her. He wondered how much he’d missed while he’d been counting his blessings.

When he stopped thinking about how grateful he was to be with her, he could see how happy she was to have him there, and that made everything sweeter.

Belle fidgeted with her handbag and glanced around the gallery. Her critical eye noticed that it was very well-proportioned and well-lit. The artwork, all created by the young people this event was supposed to benefit, was displayed to its best advantage, silent auction sheets by each piece. Belle had already bid a hundred dollars on a landscape done in oils, and she’d noticed Rum’s name on the auction lists of at least five separate works.

The big softie.

She saw him then, walking toward her with a faint smile on his face; she was ready to answer with one of her own when a striking dark-haired woman in red cut him off and grasped his arm. She was whispering urgently, but Rum merely rolled his eyes, took her by the elbow, and steered her to where Belle was standing.

“That crisis can wait,” he said when they were near enough for Belle to hear. “Belle, I’d like you to meet Regina. Regina, Belle.”

With a huff Regina jerked her arm out of his grip and turned to face Belle, her glance sweeping over her. She raised her eyebrows and looked back at Roderick, a smirk playing at her lips, before smiling and holding out her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said.

“Likewise.” Belle shook her hand and tried not to look as if she were intimidated.

“Gold tells me you work at a gallery in Soho?”

“I run it, actually,” Belle corrected her, and Regina smiled.

“I don’t suppose that’s where you met him?” She glanced over at Gold, who’d walked away to collect drinks for Belle and himself.

“Oh...no. I don’t think Rum’s every been to the Avonlea. He, uh...he handled my divorce.”

Regina’s eyes widened and she grinned a very feline grin. “Is that so. That’s positively unethical. I can’t wait to ask him about it.”

“It wasn��t at all unethical,” Belle argued. “Nothing happened until the divorce was finalized.”

“But you wanted it to, didn’t you?”

There was no arguing that. Belle smiled and shrugged sheepishly, and Regina laughed.

“Of course nothing happened. Gold’s many things, but he’s not an idiot. I’m sure he learned his lesson the first time.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Belle frowned. “The first time?”

Regina looked startled. “Uh. He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“About...my mother?”

“He told me they were involved.” Belle studied Regina’s panicked face. “She was married, while they were together, wasn’t she?”

Huffing, Regina crossed her arms. “You’re a sharp little thing.” Belle raised her eyebrows, and Regina took a long sip of her champagne before answering. “Yes, okay? She was still married. She decided to go back to my father at the last minute. It...it hurt him. I didn’t realize a lot of what was going on at the time because I was just a kid, but I figured it out later.”

Belle saw that Rum had managed to snag two champagne flutes and was making his way back toward them.

“Please tell me I didn’t just ruin this for him,” Regina said a little desperately. “He’s never been involved with a married woman since - I mean, I honestly don’t think he’s been - uh - anyway - it was a mistake on both their parts and…”

“It’s fine,” Belle said reassuringly as he walked up. “Don’t worry about it.”

“She hasn’t told you some horribly embarrassing story about me, has she?” Roderick asked, handing her one of the flutes.

“Not unless you consider that brief period when you refused to shave embarrassing,” Regina said smoothly. “Please never do that again. A beard isn’t a good look for you.”

Belle wasn’t so sure she’d agree, but she allowed Regina to lead the conversation and talk herself away from the accidental minefield she’d created. She watched the two of them talk and needle and tease, and the last of the tight, jealous feeling in her chest dissipated.

Her mental image of Regina had been wildly fluctuating ever since she’d first heard the woman’s name. Rum’s description of her as an old friend had conjured a handsome woman his own age, his equal in experience and sophistication. When he admitted that he’d once been involved with her mother, Regina had become an ambitious young early-twenty-something with nothing but youth on her side.

The reality was both better and worse than everything Belle had imagined. For starters, Belle had imagined passable good looks for the sake of her own peace of mind. With her shiny dark hair, bottomless dark eyes, and a scar over one side of her full lips that gave character and interest to her otherwise flawless features, Regina Mills was a knockout. However, she was also quite clearly not at all interested in Roderick. The energy between them was one of friendly rivalry, familial even, and Belle finally relaxed entirely. She moved to stand a little closer to him, allowed her shoulder to graze his arm, and he glanced down and smiled at her, the expression warming his eyes and softening his features. She leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turned his head and caught her lips briefly.

“Oh, brother,” Regina muttered, draining her champagne.

“Don’t mind her,” Roderick said cheerfully. “She’s just not used to people being happy in her immediate vicinity.”

“Fuck off, Gold,” Regina said without heat. “Bad enough you had to prance in here with your perfect girlfriend when you know mine’s in England. Do you really have to rub it in with the PDA?”

“Ah, yes, when is Millie supposed to return?”

“Next week. There’ll probably be a party. You’ve been warned.”

“Millie?” Belle asked.

“Millicent Drake. Attorney at law, a very friendly business rival, and, arguably, Regina’s better half.”

Regina snorted. “Not many who’d argue about that.”

“Yes, well, that’s because they’ve never been subject to a Drake dressing-down.” Gold shivered theatrically. “The woman breathes fire, I’m sure of it.”

“Right, because you’re so cuddly and soft. Didn’t you once make an opposing counsel cry?”

“Not my fault he didn’t read the prenup before filing.”

Belle shook her head, squeezed his arm, and headed for the ladies’ room. The two of them were entertaining as all hell, but she’d just been given a lot of new information with pretty much no time to process it. The relative quiet of the bathroom helped; she filed away the information that Regina was apparently involved with a woman (Roderick had said she’d never been attracted to him) and the revelation that his relationship with her mother had not been everything it should have been. Not that she had any room to judge, of course. Everyone was allowed to make mistakes, and God knew she’d made quite a few.

And then there was the fact that Regina had just called her Rum’s girlfriend and neither of them had attempted to correct her.

She was still ruminating on that as she tried to make her way back to where she’d left her…date? boyfriend? friend with really amazing benefits?...and she stopped to admire a water-color painting she hadn’t seen before. The subject was a shadowy figure seated at a spinning wheel, and something about the spinner’s profile was familiar. She leaned a little closer and saw that the nose was prominent and slightly hooked, and she smiled.

“Like it?” The voice startled her and she stepped back. The man beside her was smiling at her, his dark eyes warm and crinkling at the edges.

“It’s beautiful. I was just thinking that the spinner reminded me of someone.”

“It’s Rumpelstiltskin, but he’s sort of modeled after my dad. He used to tell me stories about Rumpel when I was a kid.” The man held out his hand. “I’m the artist. Neal Cassidy.”

“Belle French.”

The man froze with his hand still gripping hers. “Did - did you say Belle?”

“Yeah.”

“Belle French?”

“Ye-es…”

“Hey.” A blonde woman appeared beside Mr. Cassidy, her arm draped around his shoulders. “Sorry, got distracted by the food.”

“Emma, this is Belle. Belle French.”

The woman’s green eyes went wide. “You’re Belle?”

“Sorry, do - do we know each other?” Belle tugged on her hand, growing nervous.

“Oh, sorry, no,” Emma stammered. “Pa - uh - Rod - uh - Mr. Gold told us about you.”

Belle’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Did he? And, uh, who are you?”

“Like I said, I’m Neal and this is Emma.” His eyes were unreadable as he looked her over again. “I’m his son.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic

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worryinglyinnocent · 7 years

Text

Not So Secret, A Monthly Rumbelling Fic

Rated: T

Prompt: “You have a lot of nerve saying ‘hello’ like nothing happened!”

Summary: Belle’s friends are rather put out to find that she’s been dating someone without their knowledge. Belle doesn’t care.

Word Count: 2113

=====

Not So Secret

“You have a lot of nerve saying ‘hello’ like nothing happened!”

Belle blinked at Ruby’s vehement statement. All she had done was come into the diner and sit down in her usual booth, and suddenly she had been accosted by Ruby and Ariel sliding into the booth opposite her and fixing her with somewhat ferocious expressions, to which she had greeted them with a simple ‘hello’. Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say.

“I’m not quite sure what I’ve done to deserve your wrath, but I’m very sorry for whatever it is.”

“We saw you!” Ruby exploded, gesturing wildly towards the door and almost knocking a plate of waffles out of Ashley’s hand as the other waitress brought an order to the next booth.

“You saw me doing what?” Belle asked.

“Gold!” Ariel said. At least Ariel’s face was beginning to look more excited and fascinated than angry, but Ruby still looked as if she wanted to set a pack of wild dogs on her friend. Or perhaps set a pack of wild dogs on Gold. Or maybe both. At least that explained what they had seen her doing. She had assumed that the back of Gold’s shop would have afforded them some measure of privacy.

“I can assure you that I have never done Mr Gold in my life,” Belle said primly. “Our relationship is entirely non-carnal.”

“Yes, for the moment,” Ruby said. “But you can’t tell me that you weren’t thinking about it when you were sucking his face off!”

“Ruby!” Ariel smacked her friend’s arm. “What Ruby is trying to say is that why didn’t you tell us that you were seeing him?”

“Well… It’s kind of a new thing,” Belle said weakly, the force of Ruby’s glare weakening her resolve. “I don’t see why you’re so upset about this. You were the one who told me I needed to get back in the dating game after Gaston.”

“Yes, but not with Gold!” Ruby exclaimed. “I meant with someone, you know, nice. And slightly closer to your own age! What about Will? He’s lovely, and you spend a lot of time with him!”

“He’s also got a girlfriend,” Belle pointed out.

“Keith?”

“He’s tried to grab my ass on at least ten separate occasions.”

“And mine,” Ariel mused. “And yours,” she added to Ruby.

“He’d still be better than Gold!”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Really? The serial sleaze who’s one grope away from an assault charge at any time is better than the perfectly respectable pawnbroker? You’re not setting the bar for my lovelife very high here, Ruby.”

“Well, you will go and kiss the terror of the town!” Ruby gave a long sigh and her fearsome expression faded. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Belle. You know what he’s like.”

“Yes, I do,” Belle countered. “I know he’s smart, and he makes me smile and laugh, and that there’s an awful lot more to him than you think. And I know that he would never hurt me.” She paused. “Your concern is touching but… worryingly exuberant. I know what I’m doing, Ruby. I know who he is. You’ve got to trust me on this. He’s a good man, beneath what the rest of the town sees.”

Ruby frowned. “The last time I trusted you with your own dating experiences you ended up with Gaston.”

“It sounds like you’re blaming my lack of judgment for the fact he turned out to be a cheating bastard,” Belle said coolly.

“I don’t mean it like that!”

“Then trust me on Gold!”

Her voice had become a little louder than she had realised, and she noticed that the entire diner was now looking at her with morbid fascination.

“Ok, ok, nothing to see here,” Ruby said, entirely unconvincingly, waving the other patrons back to their meals. Although there were no longer several pairs of eyes fixed on her, one could still have heard a pin drop. Ruby rolled her eyes and leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper.

“All right. I’ll trust you on Gold. But the minute you need me, just say the word and I’ll lock him in the freezer until he begs for mercy.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Ruby.”

“Nevertheless, the offer will remain open.”

“Ruby, do you maybe understand now why I didn’t tell you, since I knew that this was the reaction you were going to have?”

Ruby considered this point for a moment and narrowed her eyes, but refused to concede it, saying that her break was over and getting up from the booth to go back to her shift. As soon as Ruby had left, Ariel shuffled up on the seat so that she was directly opposite Belle and broke into a grin.

“So, tell me everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell, Ariel.”

“Oh come on! You can’t just drop the bombshell on us that you’re dating Gold and then not divulge any of the details. How long has this been going on? How did it start? When are you seeing him again?” She dropped her voice to a dramatic whisper. “Is he a good kisser?”

“Ariel, two minutes ago you were furious that I was seeing the guy and now you want all the juicy gossip?”

“No, Ruby was furious that you were seeing him. I was furious that you hadn’t told me you were seeing him because that meant I was missing out on all the juicy gossip.” She steepled her fingers and leaned in close. “So… spill.”

Belle shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. We’re dating, that’s all.”

“What do you mean nothing to tell! He’s the most inscrutable and mysterious man in town! I knew you were sort of friends with him but there’s a big difference between polite conversation and what you were doing! And you’re now intimately acquainted with the back room of his shop where no-one ever goes!”

Once again, the entire diner looked over at the booth, and Belle groaned, resting her head against the table to avoid the stares from the other patrons.

“Oh, that wasn’t a euphemism,” Ariel called to the diner. “I just mean she’s seen the back room. Not like, done things in it. Although you were kissing him in it and…”

“Ariel…” Belle said without removing her forehead from the formica, “just stop.”

“Ok. But you’ve got to give me some more information to work with here, Belle. You don’t just go from not dating a guy to dating a guy - and a guy like Gold to boot - without there being a story to tell behind it. You didn’t just wake up one day and say ‘right, me and Mr Gold are dating now’.”

“Would it shut you up if I said that was what had happened?” Belle finally sat up again and gave Ariel a pleading look. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gold enter the diner, right on time for the date that they had set up, and she smiled. Gold met her eyes and returned the expression, but the soft smile turned into something of a smirk when he saw that Ariel was sitting Belle, her back to him, and he began to make his way towards the two women.

“Of course not!” Ariel said, oblivious to Gold coming up behind her. “I need to know everything! Nobody knows anything about him and these things are important!”

“Mr Gold’s kissing ability is important?”

“Yes! Is he the kind who goes in kind of softly and slowly or does he just, you know, go for it.” She paused. “You know what they say about guys with noses like his though,” she added with a conspiratorial wink.

“Really, Miss Del Mar? What do they say about guys with noses like mine?”

Ariel’s face paled as she turned around comically slowly to see Gold standing behind her, then whirled back round to Belle. “You could have told me he was standing right there!”

“I could have done, but the look on your face was priceless.”

Ariel’s eyes narrowed and she glanced from Belle to Gold and back again.

“You know, I’m beginning to think he might be a bad influence on you after all,” she muttered, sliding out of the booth to let Gold sit down. Over behind the counter, Ruby scowled at them, waving a pair of tongs threateningly in Gold’s direction.

He simply raised an eyebrow at her and returned his attention to Belle. “May I ask what that was about?”

“Ruby and Ariel saw us in the pawn shop yesterday,” Belle said, cringing internally a little. “Ruby’s offered to lock you in the freezer and Ariel wanted all the details.”

“I see.” Gold seemed to consider this for a moment before shrugging. “Well, I suppose that those are the reactions I would expect when our status became public,” he said. “We’ve certainly garnered the attention of everyone else in the diner.

True enough, all of the other patrons were still staring at them.

“Actually I think that’s more to do with Ariel and my discussion before you arrived.” Belle looked a little sheepish. “She was trying to convince everyone that she had not been talking about me and you getting up to no good in the back of the shop and just ended up digging herself into a hole in the process. Everyone probably thinks that we’re practicing all kinds of strange kinks in there. I’m so sorry.”

Gold just gave a snort of amused laughter. “Don’t worry about it. I think if we’re going to continue this then we’re going to have to get used to the incredulity of the town.”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a thought that Belle was particularly looking forward to, but she knew that she needed to get used to it and that people’s opinions of Gold, like Ruby’s, would not change overnight. She had known that when she had first made the decision to act upon her feelings towards him, and how she couldn’t regret it. She had Gold after all, and that made up for all of the strange looks that she might have got. Their friendship had always been dear to her, even if none of the other townsfolk seemed to have noticed it until Ariel and Ruby’s untimely eavesdropping. That she had taken that first step towards being more than friends still amazed her, and that Gold had returned her attraction even more so. He had been so supportive in the wake of her break-up from Gaston, and in time, that had developed into something more.

“What can I get you two then?” Ruby asked, coming over with notepad in hand and her brightest smile, obviously trying not to embarrass Belle by being rude to her date in front of her.

Belle gave her order and Ruby turned to Gold.

“My usual please, Miss Lucas. And I’ll take extra ice in the ice tea.”

Ruby’s expression dropped into a scowl for a moment before she beamed at him and made her way back to the counter.

“She’s probably going to ‘accidentally’ drop that ice tea in your lap, you know,” Belle said.

“It’s a risk I was perfectly willing to take to see the look on her face,” Gold replied, his voice utterly benign but his expression devilish. He walked a fine line sometimes in the way he acted, but Belle knew that when it came to her friends he would never push his luck, even if Ruby was being particularly trying. He looked around at the diner, and the other customers quickly turned back to their own plates and tried to look like they were not hanging on every word that was said.

“Shall we give them something to talk about, since they’re so determined to catch some gossip?” Gold asked.

Belle smiled and nodded. Since their relationship had ended up going public anyway, they might as well make the most of it. She got up and moved to sit on the same side of the booth as Gold, he slid further in to make room for her and she settled herself primly beside him before grabbing his tie and pulling him in for a deep kiss. He seemed a little surprised by her sudden passion, but relaxed into the kiss quickly, his arms coming around her back to pull her in closer.

Around them, Belle could hear the diner going quiet again, and the smash and clatter of two glasses of ice tea ending up on the floor as Ruby dropped them.

Belle just smiled to herself as she finally let Gold come up for air. Let them stare.

#rumbelle fic #A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle #Fic: Not So Secret

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