#since belle rumple never saw any other woman it was just her I love it
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ENDLESS LIST OF MY OTPS
4. Rumpelstiltskin/Mr Gold (Robert Carlyle) and Belle French (Emilie de Ravin) from Once Upon a Time.
“Once upon a time, there was a beast who took a girl prisoner, but he feel in love with her, and then he let her go, and this way the girl realized she loved him too.”
#rumplestiltskin#belle french#rumple#belle x rumple#rumbelle#robert carlyle#emilie de ravin#once upon a time#THEM#the definition of beauty and the beast literally#since belle rumple never saw any other woman it was just her I love it#rumple fighting and winning against his dark side because of his love for belle and her love for him#MY HEART
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Golden Rings: A Story
The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs
Rumpelstiltskin tells the truth
Read on AO3
Rumpelstiltskin looked at his wife in awe. She looked like Mrs. Gold, with her tight black dress and dark makeup. But the way she spoke sounded like Belle. The curse wasn’t broken, so she wasn’t Belle. Not yet. This woman was something in between the two extremes, a light coming into the darkness--like a half-moon, or the first gray haze of dawn.
His wife spoke of dreams, she called him Rumple. After months of lies and silence, she was desperate for the truth. And he was desperate to tell it to her.
The table where he had laid out his dagger separated their bodies. He limped around it as he went to her. He held her hands between his own over his cane. Her wedding ring was off her finger, but she held it tightly in her fist. At his prompting, she opened her hand. He circled the outline of the ring against her palm.
“What do you remember,” he said softly, “about our rings?”
She bit her lip. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to think. “I--I remember… that they came from the shop. That you have a tray of gold wedding bands that never sell for much. The ones we wear were the ones that fit us best. I remember you ordered me to never take it off. You said it meant I belong to you--that a wedding ring was more binding than any kind of collar or--” She gasped. Her eyes went wide. “Or cuffs!”
His wife gripped his hand, like he was the only thing she could be sure of. “I remember there were cuffs. I wore them on my wrists like bracelets, but they were magic! They were made of gold--or straw.”
She looked down at her wrists, clearly trying to reconcile how a thing could be gold and straw and magic all at the same time. “You gave them to me. They made me do whatever you said. But… But then I took them off. And when you gave them back to me, they were rings. And instead of wearing both of them, I only wore one. You wore the other.” Her gaze shifted to their hands, she rubbed his ring with her thumb. “It is a sign, not of bondage, but a bond. A vow we could break at any time, but mutually promise not to.”
Rumpelstiltskin heard his own words repeated back to him. Time and distance and curses had changed nothing about his marriage, about how much he loved Belle.
And now Mrs. Gold remembered being Belle. She looked up at him. Her eyes had never been wider or bluer or more beautiful.
“Which memory is true?” she whispered. There was a tremor in her voice.
He wrapped his arms around his wife, he pressed his face into her hair. “The second one,” he answered. “Is that the memory where you think of me as Rumple?”
Clutching him, she nodded.
“Then that’s the truth, sweetheart.” He held her close, rubbed her back. “Any time you remember being married to Rumple, that’s when the memories are true.”
“Those are the memories where you look like a monster.”
He held her face and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her eyes. “But not, I hope, the memories where I act like one.”
His wife shook her head. A weak smile flickered over her face, like a match trying to catch logs to make a fire.
“You have magic in those memories.” She broke their embrace to look at the table. “Magic that has something to do with this dagger.” She picked it up in one hand, her fingers gripping expertly around the handle. “And something to do with me?”
Standing beside her, he set his hand lightly on her waist. Now that she was becoming Belle again, he never wanted to stop touching her. It was hard to stop at just holding her hands.
“I gave you the dagger,” he reminded her. “So you could control me, and all my powers.”
He felt the shiver go up her spine. “We used that control for sex, didn’t we?”
Rumpelstiltskin chuckled and kissed her temple. “Yes. Yes, I’m not surprised you remember that, darling. Those times were… memorable.”
Holding the dagger, his wife turned to face him. “Mr. Gold would never let himself be weak around anyone. Not even me. Especially not me. He would never give me power over him.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “No,” he said softly. “Gold was too much of a coward to trust you with himself.” His hands squeezed at the cap sleeves of her dress. “That was a lesson I didn’t learn until it was almost too late.”
Bringing her hands up to his chest, she rubbed the dark fabric of his suit lapels between her fingers. “But you’re Rumple now.” She looked up at him. “How long have you been Rumple?”
The trickster-true answer ‘all my life,’ sat on his tongue, but Rumpelstiltskin wanted to give his wife honesty.
“Since October,” he said.
Nodding slowly, she looked him up and down. “Rent Day in October. That was when you started to change.”
“Yes,” he said. “I woke up the moment I heard Emma’s name.”
She blinked. “Sheriff Swan? What does she have to do with all this?”
He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Everything,” he grinned at her. Without letting go of her hand, he stepped away from her body. “There is something I must do, sweetheart. There is somewhere I must go.”
“Where?” She followed him as he took a step, her fingers threaded through his. “And what? Do you need me to drive?”
Already pulling out the keys to Gold’s car, he looked at her. “You can drive?”
To his surprise, she laughed. A radiant smile filled her face. “Yeah, gosh, since I was sixteen. I had to get my licence as soon as I could, so I could do deliveries for my dad’s shop, or take my mom to her doctor’s appointments.” She swallowed, her smile shrank, then vanished. “After my uncle and my cousin Andrew were in their car accident, Aunt Terri would only get in a car if I was driving. I don’t know why she trusted me more than anyone else, but she did.”
It had never occurred to Rumpelstiltskin to imagine this woman as a teen-ager in this world. But she had been. Or at least, she remembered being one. She wasn’t entirely Gold’s creature. His wife had been a child once. She’d had a family who had relied on her. She’d grown up in this world and learned skills that Belle never had.
Her eyebrows suddenly furrowed. “Wait, are those memories fake too? My family, are they not--”
“We’ll find out,” he assured her. He didn’t know the truth himself, but he’d be damned if he let this poor woman have one more moment of self-doubt. “Come with me, and we’ll figure it all out, together.” He held Gold’s keys out to her. “Do you know how to get to the cabin?”
With a wry grin, she took the keys in the hand that wasn’t holding the dagger and her ring. “I’ve been there once or twice.”
****
It was odd for Rumpelstiltskin to be in the passenger seat of the Cadillac. Odder still to see the woman who looked like Mrs. Gold driving. She adjusted the seat and put on her safety belt and checked all the mirrors before she started the ignition. Without having to drive himself, Rumpelstiltskin was better able to observe the other cars and pedestrians as they made their way out of town.
Emma Swan’s Volkswagen was crookedly parked under the “officials only” sign at the hospital. The car was a few feet away from the black Mercedes Regina drove--also parked haphazardly, as if in a desperate hurry. On Main Street, Mary Margaret Blanchard slowly walked away from Granny’s and towards her apartment. She held herself closely, looking visibly distraught. David Nolan pulled out into the road, his pickup truck fully packed as he drove away from her.
Inside the Cadillac, it was quiet until his wife spoke up. “So, um. I think there’s a lot that I don’t understand. I mean, obviously there is. But, maybe, instead of me asking you for every little detail, you could just, um, tell me the whole thing?”
Rumpelstiltskin smiled. He would have taken her hand, but she had both of them on the steering wheel. His other instinct was to squeeze the flesh of her thigh, but that gesture felt wrong, somehow. Things between them were still too tenuous, too unknown and too fragile. The woman beside him was his wife, but she wasn’t Belle. Not entirely. Not yet. Her wedding ring and his dagger both lay inert on the seat between them.
“Back at the shop I said I would tell you everything,” he answered. “Of course, ‘everything’ is quite a lot. Would it be all right to start with just the parts about you?”
For just a second, she took her eyes off the road to look at him. Then she nodded.
“Thank you,” he said. He took a deep breath, and began: “Once upon a time, there was a man who had so much wealth and power it made him into a monster.”
He saw her hands tighten around the steering wheel, but she said nothing.
“In his monstrousness, the man sought out a girl. He wanted to use her to satisfy his own cruel appetites. The girl he chose was beautiful and intelligent and brave. She was kind and innocent, and all the monster wanted to do was hurt her.”
His wife’s lips pressed together. “She wasn’t that innocent.” Her voice was thick. “Or that kind.”
“She was,” he assured her. “Everything she endured, she did it to save her family.”
She shook her head, but kept her eyes fixed on the road in front of her. “She abandoned them. She didn’t think she had a life or a future with them, so she sold out.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “She let that man take her away from them because she wanted a better life--a richer life. A life where she wouldn’t have to worry, wouldn’t have to care about anybody.” As she gripped the steering wheel, Rumpelstiltskin understood that she was trying to dig her fingernails into her palms. “And then, once the man started hurting her in ways that she didn’t like, she told herself that she deserved it.”
“She didn’t,” Rumpelstiltskin promised. Was any part of what she said Belle’s story? Or was it all Mrs. Gold? “What the man did to her… was entirely his fault. She bears no blame for any of it.”
“Doesn’t she?” She glanced at him again. “I mean, they made a deal. She benefited from all that bullshit as much as he did. He gave her a good life, she got off on most of it.”
She tried to smile, but all Rumpelstiltskin could do was rest his hand on her arm.
“If he was a good husband, he would have cared about her safety. He would have only done things that brought her pleasure. And he never would have made her feel like she was in his debt. A true marriage is a marriage of equals, of giving as much as you receive.”
“I am yours as you are mine.”
Belle loved saying those words. They were the motto of Jefferson and Leona, a couple who each wore a collar to show their devotion to the other. Belle often repeated the phrase in their marriage as they played their games of submission. Of course his wife would repeat them now.
“In the story,” he continued, “the man who became a monster, found that he wanted to become a man again. And that frightened him. He fell in love with the girl he had taken. He found that he didn’t care about power or darkness anymore. All he wanted was to give her a good life.”
“She fell in love with him, too.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “By some miracle, she did. And when he told her that the only good life for her would be without him, she refused to leave.”
His wife’s brow furrowed. “That’s not right,” she said. “She did leave. He was cruel to her. He made her go away. He told her that he didn’t love her and she didn’t want to fight him anymore, so she left.”
Rumpelstiltskin felt her words like darts into his heart. She was right, of course. And it was like Belle to remember the worst of things and want to bring them out into the light. She was compassionate and forgiving, but she would never deny the truth.
“You’re right.” He shifted in his seat. “She did leave. But she came back.”
“She searched the whole castle looking for him,” she sighed. “And she found him in the dungeon cell where he had once imprisoned her.”
“He was a broken man,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “He thought the light had gone from his world forever.”
“That was when you gave me your dagger.” They pulled up to the cabin. His wife parked the car and turned to him. “That was when you asked me to marry you, Rumple.”
He nodded. He wanted nothing more than to reach for his wife, to pull her into his arms and kiss her deeply. But positioned as they were in the front seat of the car, all he could do was grip both of her hands in his own.
“The only fair price for someone’s heart is to give your own heart to them in return.”
Her eyes were full of tears and love in equal measure. “Rumple,” she whispered.
Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead. “I know,” he murmured. “And I promise you, there is more. There is… everything. But first we need to take a walk.”
****
The well was only a short walk away from the cabin. It wasn’t useful as a source of drinking water, it wasn’t attached to any man-made waterways or pipes. Gold would have had it demolished years ago, but it was a protected landmark. A brass plaque on the side of the structure proclaimed it a wishing well. Local legend said that the waters of the well had the power to return that which was lost.
Rumpelstiltskin knew that many worlds had such tales associated with bodies of water. In his own land, the source of this magic was called Lake Nostos. In worlds with magic, all of the waters were connected, which often gave them greater power than any other force in that world. He had been waiting for the moment when magic would fully enter this world. Then, he would be able to harness the latent powers of these waters.
They walked through the forest, him and his wife. A beaten-down path led from the road to the well. She was surefooted, even in Mrs. Gold’s stilettos--or at least as good as he was with Gold’s cane. It was a quiet journey. When he looked at his wife, she had her eyes on the forest floor. Her lips moved slightly, as though she were talking to herself, trying to figure things out.
“How are you?” He stopped to talk to her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can believe all this.” She folded her arms over her chest and bit her lip. “Like, when I think about it--when I think about magic and daggers and castles--it all seems completely crazy.”
Rumpelstiltskin swallowed. “I understand.”
“But--but it’s what I’ve been dreaming about for months now. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? And you don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”
“No.” He cupped her cheek in one hand. “No, sweetheart. I promise, everything you remember is what I know to be true. Please trust me.”
She put her hand over his own on her face. “I do,” she murmured. “I don’t understand why. I don’t understand anything. But I do trust you, Rumple.”
He took his hand away and reached into his trouser pocket. He pulled out the glass vial and showed it to her. The glowing purple-pink of magic shone against her pale cheek.
“This is the best I have to offer right now, in terms of proof. As far as I know, this is as much magic as has ever been collected in one place in this world.”
Eyebrows furrowed, she stared at the bottle. Her hand raised, as if she wanted to reach out and grab it, but didn’t dare to. “What is it, Rumple?” she whispered. “What kind of magic?”
“The most powerful magic of all,” he told her. “The only magic that doesn’t come with a price. True Love.”
“Snow White.” Even as she said it, she looked only more puzzled. “And Prince Charming. Them, together, they have true love.” Her eyes widened. “I watched you make this potion. From their hair!”
“Yes.” He smiled, remembering that day in his tower. “The two of them have true love. And what they create together, is a very powerful thing.”
“The Savior.” His wife began to laugh. “Emma! Emma is the savior we’ve been waiting for. Emma will break the curse!”
“Yes!” He wrapped his arm around her. “And soon, I think. Very soon. When it happens, we’ll need to be ready.”
She nodded to the vial of True Love. “You’re going to use that for something.”
He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Yes, my love. I’ll show you when we get to the well.”
They started to walk again. Rumpelstiltskin felt the urgency building in his mind. He wanted to get closer, he had to get closer. There was a tension in the air, like the coming of a storm. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
He picked up his pace, leaving his wife to trail behind him. The well was in sight. They were so close. The work of lifetimes was about to be completed. He had toiled for centuries to have the curse be cast, he had waited for months for it to break.
And then, it did.
Not just True Love, but True Love’s Kiss.
The power swept over the land--stronger and purer than anything within the capabilities of the Dark One in all his terrible glory. Rumpelstiltskin felt it as a bolt of lighting that took up the whole of the atmosphere. But this power was not destructive. It was not harsh and damaging. No, the opposite. The intensity was enough to level cities and crumble bones, but the purpose of it was to heal. The light was a golden rainbow, infinitely strong and infinitely gentle. This was a force to restore, to rebuild.
To break curses. To bring back happy endings. To regain that which once was lost.
Rumpelstiltskin felt the magic pour over him, but he had no power over it. This was pure goodness, something so much greater than himself. It was greater than anything--except the person who had created it. All he could do was close his eyes and let his soul witness this rarest of magical events.
“She did it,” he whispered to himself.
When the moment passed, he kept walking. There was still work to do. If he was lucky, some of the force of Emma’s magic would have been absorbed by the waters in the wishing well. He could use that, and the True Love he held in his hand, to bring forth some magic he would be able to control.
“Wait,” his wife’s voice came from behind him.
He stopped, but didn’t turn around. They were too close. “It’s just up here.”
“No,” Belle’s voice broke through the mania of magic in his head. “Rumpelstiltskin, wait!”
His feet refused to move. She was holding the dagger. Magic was in Storybrooke now.
Belle had given him an order.
He turned his head to look at her. He couldn’t speak. It was her. Nothing had changed about her appearance. The way she stood, the tilt of her head, the steady, wide-eyed gaze--those were all the same. But now she was Belle, in a way she hadn’t been, even today, not before this moment.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “My darling. Belle!”
Tears fell onto her smiling cheeks as she closed the gap between them. With the dagger in one hand, she wrapped her arms around him.
He returned the embrace, holding her body tightly against his own.
Their mouths met. He kissed her with enough force and passion to erase the past twenty-eight years. She returned the kiss hungrily. Both of them gave everything they had to the other. They needed it. They had needed each other for so long.
When they broke apart, she rested in his arms. She laid her head against his chest and whispered: “Rumpelstiltskin, I love you.”
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Threads
Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson
Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Retrospective, A Monthly RumBelling May 2021
Summary: Even when cursed, memories have a way of persisting, and sometimes hints of the present, or future can find their way into the depths of Belle's troubled mind. Written for the May 2021 Monthly Rumbelling.
Threads
The croft had an old stone well tucked away in the woods behind the yard, but still on the property. The Realtor had warned them that it was as dry as bones baked in the desert sun. Every morning, though, just as the sun’s infant rays drove away the predawn shadows, and left the colors muted ghosts of themselves, she lowered the wooden bucket and pulled up a full pail of crisp, cold, sweet water. She looked into the water as the ripples stilled and always saw a new reflection - never her own. That morning it was a castle nestled against a snowy mountain peak, high above the trees that graced the slopes below. She dipped the ladle into the water and brought it to her lips to drink thirstily. Perhaps if she drank enough she might find the castle in her dreams and explore its vast imagined hallways and grand ballrooms. When the water stilled again there was a new reflection; a town that stretched like a blanket at the foot of the hill on which she stood. She shook her head at all her fancy, and slowly carried the water back to the croft.
The Realtor’s warning hadn’t deterred them. After all, the croft was sound, and they’d need a place to stay, and later, she hoped, to live - the difference… the presence of the man she loved, who like the other men was gone away to war. In the meantime, until his return - from her thought to the ears of the gods - the croft would be a place of safety for her… and maybe for a child that she would hold in her arms as he walked back into their home when the war was done.
She hadn’t wanted him to go, what wife would? She had hoped that his advanced years would spare him the draft. It hadn’t. They opened up the letter that morning to find the papers demanding he report for duty the following week, and so with duty of her own, she packed a duffel for him.
“Only essentials,” he said, and she nodded, offering him a sad smile, not trusting herself to speak. Out of the closet she pulled a shirt of the finest silk, with ruffled cuffs, a dark leather vest and the snug fitting pants she most admired. His high collared coat she set on the back of a chair for him to put on when he had to leave. The rest of the space she filled with clothes she found in his closet; small, as if for… a child?
There was. There was a son…
He didn’t say goodbye as he slipped out before dawn. She simply woke, slowly, to the scent of the steam, rising from the cup of tea he’d left for her on the table beside the bed, where, the night before, their bodies had spoken their love in place of words.
With no shame, for none was needed between man and wife, she sat up and lifted her night gown over her head, reaching for him then. She cupped his cheeks in the palms of her hands and drew him to her, their foreheads rested, briefly, each against the other, before he gathered her closer, worshiping her body with his lips, bathing her too sensitive flesh with his tongue, before rising again to cover her, and sink deep inside. Two became one as he filled her, and she cried out for him and he answered with cries of his own, until at last, spent, he lay down to cover her, like a blanket.
In the morning he was gone. The steam rose, a specter in the darkened room, but not without hope. The teacup sat upon three saucers, the three pillars of their marriage. Love. Trust. Desire.
And so she continued, day by day, to do those things that she had always done, but days became weeks, and weeks turned to months, and then years followed, and still no word.
In the summer months she plucked roses from the bush that grew by the gate, and waking in a panic one night reached to take one from the vase beside the teacup on nightstand, the cup long since washed and dried, and standing face down upon its three saucers; waiting to be used again. She stroked the petals of the rose with her fingers. These were white, with just a steak of yellow. The roses he had always given her before were red and pink, and purple. Slowly, one by one, she began to pluck the petals from the white and yellow flower.
“He lives, he lives not, he lives, he lives not…” each petal she let fall onto his empty pillow, but she stopped before she had denuded all the bloom. Such an infantile game - and did she really want to know?
She laid it crosswise on his pillow atop the plucked petals, a place marker for his head as much as was the rose that rested on the book she read. A pale lilac or lavender, she left it there to scent the pages with its sweetness. It would surround her the next time she picked it up, either by sunlight or lamplight, as now, to read and soothe her loneliness. When she read, she could be anyone - anything - could even be at his side when he marched into battle, or returned to barracks wearied from the trenches.
I’m coming back, Rumple…
She kept each book she read on the corner of the dresser. Slim volumes that she piled atop the book he had left there - a thick, leather bound tome with gold edges to each page. She had never seen inside. Full of secrets, she imagined, like some ancient book of magic that he wrote in with a feather quill. He never offered to show her, and she never asked. She merely dusted it to keep it in good order, and each night when he came to use it, he thanked her with a gentle kiss.
August became September, became October, and still no word, and so, though not a woman of superstition, at the appointed hour on the last day of the month, she took a patchwork quilt that she had sewn, and set it down in the fallen leaves near the well. She made an altar of their picnic basket, with a pumpkin from the garden, and a jar of home made apple cider as libations, to go with the fruit cake she had baked. She wrapped two of her most precious books in plain brown paper as a personal sacrifice to the gods in the hope they would grant her wishes, written onto a folded piece of card that she weighted with stones. She lit the candle and spoke the words aloud.
“Please… I promised him forever. Do not separate us now. Bring him back to me, or bring me to him… only - let us be one once more.”
It was a full moon, low and round. She could see it through the frame of the window as she looked up, briefly, from beneath her tangled hair; from where she waited… still waited. Night and day had become one, as had waking and sleeping, but the last thing she saw through the filthy, narrow window, its tendrils of growing mold looking like naked branches, before turning to cram herself into the corner, was the moonlight, and the single, rapid streak of light beneath.
“This time,” she whispered. “Maybe this time… perhaps now…”
She woke with a start. Perhaps it was the shift in the pressure of the air in the cell, but she looked up to see an orderly - not one of the orderlies she had ever seen before - standing in the doorway, tall and with dark hair that framed his pale face, and anger in the steel blue of his eyes. He held out his hand to her.
“Come with me,” he said.
#rumbelle#canon compliant#angst#retrospective#a monthly rumbelling may 2021#a monthly rumbelling#Threads
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My Top 10 LGBT Couples for Once Upon a Time
2 Keep in mine this is my personal opinion and a majority of these will not be canon! So please enjoy let me know what you think and kicking at number 10
10 Ruby Slippers Aka Red/Ruby and Dorothy
I am starting the list with them because they are the first canon LGBT couple on Once Upon A Time but it is not higher because it took five seasons to get to this point and they were rushed, and we never saw them again and it was a huge queer bait on Adam and Eddie’s part. I do like it because Red has bi tendencies and Wizard of Oz has always had a big LGBT following. So making Dorothy a lesbian makes perfect sense. Still the writing was not good this was rushed and the LGBT community deserves better.
9 Alice and New Robin Hood
This couple is hire because we get to see them develop, in canon but again it took 7 seasons to get a gay couple that actually stays on OUAT but I can’t help but feel that they picked two random white women to put together just to pacify LGBT people and show that “See we can be diverse” when the writers couldn’t give Mulan an Asian bi woman a love interest or have her say the words “I am bisexual and I was in love with a woman named Aurora” (Yes I will always be salty over sleep warrior but that will come later in this post) I am thankful for the rep but at the same the writers shouldn’t have queer baited us.
8 Hooked Charming/David Nolan/Killian Jones
I don’t know why but these two could have been an interesting couple, Two very masuculine gay men and yes I am aware they are happy with their women but they could have been more interesting thatn Captian Swan and they have belieable chemistry not the most romantic but believable chemistry than Captian Swan and I would pick that any day!
7. Frozen Swan aka Elsa and Emma
I think that the females had pretty good chemistry and these two if Elsa would have have been arount longer would have made a great couple. Plus I think making Emma bi would make a lot of sense and Elsa is headcanoned as a lesbian so I think these two would make a great couple.
6. Dragon Queen Aka Malicifient and Regina
These an evil Lesbian Couple who have soft spots for thier children and they would be totally bad ass together. I am not big on Swan Queen but they makes sense however I love the idea of the Evil Queen and the Malicificent getting together and just reaking havoc! So yeah Evil Girl Power!
5.Brave Warrior Merida and Mulan
I have a thing for badass warrior women! They could train together go on missions and be a great couple! All though I will Say Merida in her own movie is not that likable but she is fine in OUAT! Mulan and Merida would be unstoppable duo. I also think it would have been a great plot twist if Merrida either turned out to be a lesbian or ace! I also just think Mulan just desrves a happy ending.
4.Mulan Rouge aka Red/Rbby and Mulan
These two had really good chemistry and I just think that they would have made a great couple, Mulan can have a happy ending and they would have been more believable than Ruby Slippers or even the previous ship I just mentioned. Plus it would give Mulan a happy ending and the love she desrves and I think her and Ruby would work really well!
Ariel and Jasmine
These girls both have a knack for wanting to explore the world, both land and sea. I can see them being a wonder lesbian couple despite it being long distance since one live in water and the other lives on land and I also love the idea of Jasmine as a mermaid!
2 Red Beauty Aka the Superior Beauty and The Beast! Ruby/Red and Belle
Beauty and the Beast with a LGBT twist! Belle means Beauty litterally and Ruby is a werewolf so how could this not be perfect? It would give good represenation in my opinion the community, it would better thatn Lefou as the LGBT rep and it would get Belle away from Rumple. I also enjoy this couple because of Belle wanted to be there for Ruby but Ruby was afraid of hurting Belle. Plus Ruby also visted Bell in the Pshych ward and they could help each other. It would still be Beuaty and the Beast just without kidnapping of fathers and without all that abusive stuff that comes with Rumbelle!
Now for #1 Sleeping Warrior aka Aurora and Mulan!
This ship had so much potential only for it to be ruined by hetronormative bullshit! The writing was great it felt so natural for these two get together! I mean they go on a long adventure together, Aurora literally gets her heart stolen by Cora and Mulan is the one to put it back for her. They also had such great chemistry and a great build up and then Aurora gets pregnat with Philip’s baby and Mulan doesn’t get her happy ending. I hate how much potential and organic chemistry these two had only for it to be ruined. With how these two were written if one half of Sleeping Warriror had been a guy they would have been a couple but nope! They could have a thruple polygamy if they wanted Philip in the thing. Forgive its been a while I have watched OUAT but Sleeping Warrior will always be the First LGBT ship I shipped on Once Upon a Time
#queer baiting#lgbt#sleeping warrior#redbeauty#ariel & jasmine#mulan rouge#brave warrior#dragon queen#hooked charming#wonder archer#ruby slippers#lesbians#bisexuals#gays#once upon a time#anti once upon a time#anti adam & eddie
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My Take OUAT Villains Part 1
Regina - An intimidating personality with softer side and capability of empathy and selflessness . She was a fine mom before Henry started to see that she was a mean boss of the town . Then she became more strict with him BUT when fairytale stuff came to play , she became a bad parent and she almost became her mom when her magic returned before she realised that she has done too much evil . He was not a good son either . As EQ , she was a feared villain with max body count ONSCREEN not OFFSCREEN . I assume that there may be only few who outdid her . She has a life full of crap and is a pawn of others all the time before she came back to being a hero . She is a better hero than Emma and as good as Snowing . She is only villain who used to be a hero .Regina as a hero is even more dangerous adversary than EQ . Unlike other villains , she and Rumple did true to resist temptation for evil until Rumple himself made things worse . As a villain , she is delusional . She is the most scary of them all but there can be villains as bad as her or WORSE . She has crossed many lines BUT if there are some lines she won’t cross . I doubt she would like to have a child with David to piss Snow .
Rumple - A complicated guy whose favorite passtime is creating villains out of his students . He was a coward BUT he was also a father . He is incredibly selfish and makes big plans when he can achieve his goal by smaller plans as well , a trait also seen in his students . He was a teacher of Regina for a longer time and made sure of the fact that she became a monster . WEmmaonce said about WRumple that he may be razing villages so , it is safe to say WRumple did stuff like that in the past since I doubt he would be razing villages in lockup for 30 years . If WRumple did that so , it means real Rumple also did it . I doubt Rumple raped people BUT he tricked them . I think he stopped mass murder when Belle was around but continued with being a trickster and mastermind . He was relatively saner than Regina sometimes since he used brains more than she did as a villain . As a hero Regina was the saner one . I think that Charmings were too nice to him in S2 and too mean to Regina in S2 . In S4 , they were really nasty to him BUT they were not heroes nor villains that season . He became likeable in S6B AND S7 . He did have lesser pain than Regina since spinsters were actually nice guardians to him and he was not always that much troubled and tortured
Cora- Deliciously evil woman who cares for her daughter BUT her morals warped with Rumple's shadiness is what is really what turned Regina evil . She made her daughter's life way worse than hers and Rumple's . She scared the hell out of me BUT I was sad when she died . UW Cora was more likeable . I remember her as a redeemed villain than a hero. She was more cunning than Regina and as cunning than Rumple . If she lived longer than Rumple , she would have been worse . Also S3 shows her daughter Regina as her own antihesis . She is literally heartless and sees love as weakness . Voldemort anyone ?
Hook - He was fine in S2 and WHook was likeable in S7 BUT from S3-7 , org Hook was all about Emma and CS . He lived longer than Regina , Cora and Zelena so , he should be as bad or worse BUT they whitewashed him SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH that even Snow's half heart had more darkness than that in S3 and in S6 . He himself talked about destroying villages in his song and it shows that he is as bad as the Mills ladies . He likely was into rape and he had many one night stands that even Regina would be aghast . Also his revenge is not justified or reasonable and it makes Cora look justified in hating Eva and Regina reasonable for hating Snow. It was he who separated Rumple and Milah and then in S5-6 he acted that Rumple was worse . Regina had really good reason to loathe Rumple yet it never looked like that she was in mood to dance on his grave since she believed that life is precious . He was also a homewrecker . I think that he is worse than Rumple and can be as bad as Cora . His DO self showed us his true evilness . At least Regina would be trying to restrain herself from all that DOness . He did not take time to become a full fledged villain as compared to Regina , Cora and Rumple . It took him seconds to do that . He was definitely done dirty in later seasons . I still love HOOK’ s past self more .
Greg and Tamara - WHY ? They are foreigners . They do not make sense to me . Other villains have done way more evil than they can dream of though they were almost about to commit mass murder BUT they are delusional .
Pan - IDK how many he killed, how much evil he did BUT apparently , he must have done a lot of that . Even Hook finds him demonaic and treacherous (although he did the same for Rumple ) . He was more twisted than all the others mentioned before . He utterly lacks any decency . He seems to be vain , self seeking , power hungry , immortality loving , uncaring , callous person . If he succeeded , even Cora and Hook would look tame and humane .He is a narcissist . Its like Disney Mother Gothel , Disney Ursula and our Rumple together as one person . He was not only an evil power seeking overlord like Rumple and Cora but also he was sick and awful . He was both terrifying and terrible . It was the best culmination of fairytale evil with real life evil .
Zelena - She makes me like Pan sometimes . At least Pan , Cora , Regina , Rumple and Hook did not start the system of brands . According to her villainy needs to be branded like footwear and clothes . She is awfully competitive. In fandom she aroused a need of debating on who is more powerful . Every time she boasts about being more powerful , she needs to be punched on her face . OMG Regina literally did that . She branded herself as wicked and branded her sister as evil . She does not terrify me BUT she is perhaps the most devious one of all . For someone who has undergone pain , she sounds like a spoilt brat who whines like all the time . Everytime Regina is tired of her life problems , it looks like that she is in pain . In S2 Regina did a lot of whinning BUT she did not sound like this sick brat . Regina did seem like someone who has undergone a lot of crap . I think that Zelena as a spoilt princess of Oz who was pissed about her true heritage and ditched her adoptive family and killed them would make more sense and would do justice to her S3-5A personality . In 5B-7 , her softer side was apparently a bit forced and so was her new relationship with Regina but it was more true to her backstory and her S3-5A self BUT it was like having Regina in earlier seasons back sometimes . Her WWW wardrobe should beas good as EQ’s . She should also have more hairstyles as WWW . I think that Zelena is also arrogant and narcissistic as compared to anyone else . She is incredibly self obsessed . Regina was a mass murderer and rapist . Rumple was self serving , selfish and power hungry magic addict . Hook was a s*x addict and a mass murderer . Cora was a power loving mass murderer and a heartless . Pan was relatively less self obsessed . Quite many seem to come from a sadder place BUT she looks life she came from a posh life . Even young Snow and young Eva were not that bratty even though they are actual brats . Her rape of Robin to have a child with him to piss Regina shows how twisted she is . She also feels like an awkward addition since she has never said the iconic villainous line , “LOVE IS WEAKNESS .” She tries to outdo REGINA so , she must have tried to be more evil and she must have killed even more since she is like Regina killed 1 guy , I would kill 10 .
Ingrid - A short term villain but she was basically another Regina . She was also xenophobic towards muggles due to her bad experiences but later , she came to her senses . She was an unintentional succcessful attempt at making another EQ and Cora . I wish she stayed longer . We also got a dark Elsa . Her subtelty was awesome . She was basically my fav beside Rumple , Regina and Cora . I still wish if Regina was one of the people she wanted as a sister along with Emma since I do not want Emma to be left behind either . She is way better than Zelena . I think she should be nicer to memory of Helga at least .
Maleficent - We heard things about her more than we actually saw her do stuff . Since Regina has more some traits of Org Maleficent than her . Kristen did a fine job with her and did make her scary in the way Mitchel made Ingrid scary . BUT I never saw her interrupting gatherings . Regina did that one . I never saw her plotting and being cruel . I never got the mistress of Evil . I never saw the woman she really was when it came to Briar Rose. What was her foul temper like ? She was redeemed quickly . I think I was better off with one redeemed Maleficent and now there were 2 of them . I wanted her evil at larger scale . Maleficent did show some wickedness in S4 and it was awesome BUT I think I preferred REGINA , CORA , HOOK , RUMPLE , INGRID and even ZELENA level villainy . Maleficent , these are the experts . Maleficent was more a victim than a villain . Most of others were both . She may be a fine chracter BUT she was a poor villain .
Ursula - Don’t ask . She hardly came in before she went away .
Cruella- This is a good villain . Only born EVIL person besides Pan before 6*19 came up . She is better than Zelena and Maleficent combined . I would love to see Cruella at her worst . I think this character demanded to be explored more . She does not have standards at all . She tries her best to be the evilest and can succeed . No wonder Issac had to stop her . We can only imagine that her villainy would be the worst of worst .
Issac - He is soo sick and awful . Can’t say anything more . He is rebirth of Greg and Tamara who are just meh .
Dark Swan - What is this monstrosity ? I would prefer Zelena and Maleficent over this . Apparently , I think “Black Swan” would be better than what this name is . And also , we all hoped that Emma would dabble into some Cora , Rumple , Regina , Past HOOK and Ingrid level EVIL and have a maniacal laugh . We may have had EQ back . It would be good to see Snowing’s faces when Emma becomes New EQ . We wanted mental issues , rage problems , broken heart , betrayal problems , trust issues , past issues driving her mad . Trying to convince WickedGoldenHookedQueen to join her in her delicious rampage with only Zelena joining her . Zelena the brat and Black Swan a psycho teaming up . BUT instead we got an unhealthily obsessed woman who got Robin Hood killed unintentionally . SHE MADE DARK HOOK . She caused mayhem in Camelot and Storybrooke just because of Hook ? If it was really her , she would have let Hook die instead of making him DO .And after she stops being Dark Swan ,she drags her family to UW ? What is this ? High level character assasination . OH WAIT , Emma’s potential for darkness , her capacity to be Evil lies with Lily . Why they made her Darknessless . It makes sense that she is not that evil . I think this should be resolved . In my headcannon , she got the potential for evil back when she was sent to WR since In WR Cruella never left so , WR Maleficent never lost Lily so , WR Emma still has darkness . If they continuede , we could have had Evil Emma back . For now , Dark Swan is terrible , not terrifying . I find her name Emma ironical now since she is not whole .
#regina mills#mr gold#rumplestiltskin#evil queen regina#cora mills#peter pan#malcolm#greg and tamara#anti zelena#anti dark swan#anti maleficent#anti I am Maleficent with standards#ingrid#anti whiney brats#anti emma has no darkness#cruella#anti greg and tamara#anti ursula#anti Hades#anti character assassination#OUAT villains
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Mysterious Fathoms Below (7/8)
Fandom: OUAT
Pairing: Captain Swan
Also on AO3
Rated: General Audiences
Complete
Full Fic is 12005 words
Summary: When a storm throws Killian overboard, a mysterious mermaid who saves him. Now it is up to him to save her and bring her back home.
[first chapter] • [previous chapter] • [next chapter]
CHAPTER 7 - Reunions
It turned out that she couldn't. It was four hours later and they were picnicking in a kelp field. Emma had learned a lot about her parents since they left the castle. She did not know her mother used to be a bandit, nor that her father was engaged to someone else. Their love story turned out to be quite an adventure. Whilst Emma listened to her mother tell about the time she almost got killed by a pack of weresharks, she suddenly noticed that she felt at peace. And, without realising it, she started to cry. “Oh Emma! Are you okay?” Snow White looked at her worried. Emma nodded, but seeing her worried parents, only sobbed harder.
“It’s- I just-” after shakily breathing, she continued. “This is what I have always dreamt of. Of having parents, and of them telling how they met, and how much they love each other and- and-’ she hesitated. “And I just never thought that it would happen. I- I am sorry I ran away, I just-”
“It’s okay,” David interrupted her. “It’s our fault, too. We didn’t take the time to meet you. You are your own person, and it is just hard for us to know you have grown up without us to see it. We should have given you more time.”
“I love you dad’ Emma replied, and before she realised what she had said, she was engulfed in a big hug. A hug from her parents. Her parents who loved her, cared for her and never stopped looking for her. And, for the second time in her life, Emma felt completely safe.
~ ~ ~ ~
Killian cursed. “Are you sure it was him who took it?” Ariel nodded, sadly.
“There used to be two. I still have one, but he has the other one. He stole it from Ursula years ago.” Killian nodded. Now that Ariel mentioned it, he remembered that the young girl he once knew wore a strangely decorated wristband. “I’m sorry I can’t help you any further.”
“Don’t worry lass, you helped me plenty. Say hi to Eric and Melody from me. How is she, by the way?” Ariel’ face lit up as soon as he mentioned her husband and daughter.
“Oh, she is doing amazing! She started to walk a few weeks ago, and my father has stationed mermaids in the shallow waters near the castle, they had to save her twice now. We’re trying to teach her how to swim now!” She smiled, incredibly proud of her little darling.
“You get back to her then, she has to learn from the best. Thanks again.” Ariel nodded and after saying her goodbyes swam away, leaving Killian alone to think. The Crocodile, he should have known. Any time something positive happened in his life, the Crocodile was there to ruin it all. Apparently, the bastard had stolen the wristband from Ursula after the two got into a dispute, effectively chaining her to the sea. Killian had heard rumours that the Dark One was afraid of the open water. Although he knew him as a coward, Killian doubted it. The sea probably reminded the monster too much of his former wife, the one he murdered. He tensed his stump as he remembered the day the Crocodile had appeared on his deck, crushed Milah’s heart and cut off Killian’s hand. He grimaced, turned his back to the sea and started walking in the direction of his biggest enemy.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Killian?” Killian had expected many things when he entered the territory of the Dark One, but not the friendly voice of a woman. Startled, he turned around to face-
“Belle? What are you doing here!?”
“I could ask you the same!” The brunette smiled. She was wearing a beautiful yellow summer dress and held a basket full of what seemed to be clean folded laundry. “It has been so long! How is your ship? Your crew? Does Smee still have the red beanie I repaired for him? Is Blacky still alive?” Killian smiled at Belle’s enthusiasm, but then grimaced.
“Blacky has passed away, she lived long for a cat. She died in her sleep on a sunny day at her favourite spot on deck. But I will tell you all later, you have to get out of here. This is the territory of the Dark One, he’s dangerous!” To his surprise, however, Belle burst out laughing.
“Dangerous?” She put down the basket of laundry and held out her hand. It took Killian a second, but then he realised she was wearing a wedding ring. “I married him!”
“I- You- What?” Killian went from surprise to anger to disbelieve so fast that his mouth fell open, only causing Belle to laugh even more. “But-”
“I know the stories people tell about him, Killian. But don’t worry. He’s changed. He is a good man now, even when not many people can see that.” Somehow, Killian sincerely doubted it, but he did not have the change to voice his concern.
“Hello, dearies. Having a little chat now?” It was the last Killian heard before he was lifted off the ground and felt the familiar sensation of magic pushing his air pipes shut.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Excuse me young la-” Killian started with a flirty voice when a pretty woman walked into him, but he cut himself off when he saw the look of panic on her face. “Are you okay?” He asked, normally this time, quickly glancing behind the girl to see what could be the source of her distress. He saw the girl looking at him doubtfully, then deciding that didn’t have another choice.
“I am being chased by my father and his friends. They want me to marry.”
“And you do not?”
“I want to marry for love. And even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t want to marry that nasty, brutish jerk for all the money in the world.”
“Ah.” Killian nodded. He had met a lot of women on his travels with similar stories. Most of his best crewmates had been women like that, escapees from arranged marriages, abusive husbands or fathers. “Well then,” he considered, looking at the obviously well-bred woman still clutching him and looking around terrified. “Can you read?” She looked surprised but nodded.
“In English, French and German, sir.” She replied.
“Ah, well-educated, I hear. So, can you do maths?” She nodded again. “ Well then, if you are not afraid to work hard, you have a place in my crew.”
“Your crew?” she asked, but Killian’s answer was cut short when he heard commotion ahead.
“Are those the people who are after you?” One look from the distressed girl was enough of an answer. Killian grabbed her tightly, turned around and ran with her to his ship.
~ ~ ~ ~
Tea. He was drinking tea with the Dark One. After he had met Emma, his world truly turned upside down in ways he could never have imagined. When the Dark One was choking him, Belle had pleaded for his life. Aside from his skin, which now looked human again, something else in the Crocodile had changed, since the monster had listened to her and had let him live. Now, the three of them were drinking tea in a lovely little garden house with a beautiful view of a large valley with grazing horses. Belle was happily chatting, telling the tale of how she met ‘Rumple’, as she endearingly called him, and how they got married. Killian could still barely believe it, and was almost suspecting dark magic was it not for the fact that Belle was still her cheery old self. Dark magic left its traces, and none of those could be found in Belle’s behaviour. Suddenly, Belle looked at him expectantly. “Sorry, could you repeat that, lass?” He was afraid for a moment he had offended her by not paying attention to her story, but she just laughed.
“Still often lost in thought, Captain? I asked what you have been up to since our parting.”
Trying to kill your husband, he thought, and a quick glance at the Crocodile’s wry smile confirmed that the man in front of him thought the same. “There aren’t many tales to tell, it is simply the usual. Finding treasures, daring escapes and heroic rescues of damsels-” and, after a stern look from Belle, he added “and gentlemen in distress. All in a day’s work.”
“Oh, come on. Something must have happened! Why are you here? Where is your crew?”
“My crew-” he hesitated for a moment, before continuing. “My crew is fine. We had a few changes since you left, basically only Smee is left, with his beanie, as ever.” Belle smiled as she remembered how distressed the man had been when his red hat had ripped during a fight. “The reason why I’m here, now that is a much more interesting tale. I recently found myself in a bit of a tight spot, which caused me to meet a wonderful young woman. This girl turned out to be the long-sought-for daughter of Atlantia’s Royals. So, I returned her to her parents and they live happily ever after. Back in the Enchanted Forest, I heard that your husband owns something I need, which is why you found me here.” The Crocodile, who had seemed absent for most of the conversation, suddenly looked up.
“You want to make a deal?” He grinned, rubbing his hands together. “How delightful!”
“Rumple.” Belle stared at him, and miraculously the man backed down. “What is it that you need? I am sure my husband will gladly give it to you.” She continued, looking pointily at her husband whilst emphasising the use of the word ‘give’.
“Your husband sto- came to possess a special wristband, which allows the wearer to switch between tail and legs.” Belle looked confused for a moment before Killian could almost literally see her realise his intent.
“You found love?! Did the fierce pirate Captain out for revenge finally find love?! Tell me about her!”
Killian rubbed his brow. “I’m not- it’s not-” he sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Trust me, the best stories are.”
~ ~ ~ ~
The lass had introduced herself as Belle French, the only daughter of a lower-high class family nearby. She was betrothed to the hero-of-the-town, a fellow named Gaston, known for his muscles and hunting skills. But, according to the newest member of his crew, he was nasty, brutish, mean and the sort of guy that would consider the phrase ‘you are positively primaeval’ a compliment. And since she had no hope of escaping her marriage and since she was looking for adventure, she had happily sailed out on the Jolly Roger the next day. She was a good addition to the team. She was strong and hardworking, as well as incredibly smart. The crew took a liking to her determined nature, and the fact that she did not mind cleaning the human waste buckets helped her popularity rise quickly. She learned to fight and navigate, and after saving a small kitten from a burning ship she raised morale by raising it as the ship’s mascot. Killian had been sad when she left the crew after they docked at Arendelle, but he understood her need for answers about her mother. ‘
“Take good care of Blacky for me, okay?” She had him promise. “We will see each other again, I am sure of it!”
#mysterious fathoms below#belle french#rumplestiltskin#rumbelle#emma swan#killian jones#snowing#ouat#ouat au#ouat ff#mermaid!emma#charming#snow white#mermaid!snow#mermaid!charming#mermaid!snowing#cs au#cs ff#captain swan#q#onceuponadisneyqueue#reposting
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My OUAT Rewatch -- S5E14 -- Devil’s Due
Link to Rewatch Review and Ranking archive
Everyone stand back, it’s time to honor the MOM OF THE YEAR!
Yeah, if you’re a Milah fan, you may want to back away now. In fact, you may want to back away PERMANENTLY from my blog because I have no love or empathy or sympathy or ANYTHING for this fucking bitch except cheering for the fact that not only is she dead, she’s DOUBLE DEAD.
Yeah you heard me. Not even sorry.
So I went back to look at March 2016 me to see what some of my thoughts were on this one. I had LOTS to say but I want to focus in on a few key things:
1. I loathe Milah. She’s a bitch, an abusive spouse, and just a piece of shit in general, and probably one of THE worst parents on the show, and that’s saying something given this show. I don’t feel one ounce of sympathy or sorry for her. Not ONE. Not even half of a half of a half of a half of one.
And I had about HAD IT with the Milah apologists in this fandom, and I’m not just talking about the OUAT fandom in general, I’m talking about the RUMBELLE fandom. Yes, there are Milah apologists in the RUMBELLE fandom. I’d wave hi to them, but I’m pretty sure they all have me blocked. Or vice versa. Or we are mutually blocked.
GOOD.
Anyhow, I wrote this very lengthy, pointed post after this episode on why the character of Milah disturbs me so much, so here it is:
https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/141406210392/seeing-pro-milah-stuff-on-my-dash-is-so-upsetting
I blocked A LOT of people after this episode initially aired. Not even sorry.
There is also this excellent post laying out exactly how Milah is abusive for all the idiots who claim that “Milah never abused Rumple”:
https://violetfaust.tumblr.com/post/133300598121/milah-never-abused-rumple
I know I’m being blunt here but this character triggers me more than any other character on the show. She is TERRIBLE. Just in this episode, let’s look at what mommie dearest did in the flashback ALONE:
1. She yells at Rumple for PLAYING WITH HIS CHILD. Seriously.
2. As soon as Bae gets bitten by the snake, they go to a healer and her immediate -- IMMEDIATE idea is “Hey, let’s KILL HIM!” I mean, sure, her kid is dying, I’m sure any parent would do anything to save their child, but I honestly think most would stop short of “Hey, let’s do murder!” unless the way of saving their child was stopping an actual murderer who was trying to murder their child. But nope, Milah goes right for bloodlust. But of course SHE can’t do the killing, let’s make her husband do that, then get mad at him when he can’t muster up the same level of glee for murder that she can.
3. After Bae is healed, she goes STRAIGHT TO THE BAR. Doesn’t stay to comfort her son that almost died. Nope -- goes off to drink and look for the pirate that flirted with her earlier. You stay classy, Milah.
Which brings me to the issue that caused all kinds of debate when this episode aired -- “Ermagod Rumple took Milah’s agency with that deal he made!”
Oh, please.
Who thinks that Rumple and Milah had anything that remotely resembled sex since he came back from the ogre wars?
PLEASE. That was a DEAD BEDROOM. They weren’t planning on more kids.
And hey, if mom of the year Milah wanted more kids, why weren’t there a bunch of baby Killybunnies running around on the Jolly Roger given that she was off with him for at least EIGHT YEARS.
https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/141199068997/violetfaust-chanceofserendipity-rebelside
Rumple’s choices are always -- ALWAYS -- shit, shittier, and shittiest. He NEVER has a good option. His choices were
a) Bae dies
b) he commits MURDER
c) he give up a hypothetical second child that he literally has NO REASON to think will ever exist
Which one would YOU pick, oh great and wonderful Milah defenders? Tell me your brilliant plans if YOU were in that situation.
“Oh he should have talked to Milah” HELLO have you ever seen this abusive cow be reasonable to him? NO. You can’t reason with an ABUSER. So don’t even give me that bullshit answer, sit down.
Just look at this bitch:
https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/141713831697/emospritelet-thatravenclawbitch-woodelf68
Using sex as a weapon on her abused, desperate spouse. Yes, I know we love squishy woobie!Rumple but this is ABUSE. Using sex as a weapon is ABUSE.
https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/141212899672/milah-never-abused-rumple-we-only-saw-a-little-bit
And in the underworld, Rumple is AGAIN faced with a no-win, no good solution situation.
https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/141427043007/you-used-to-say-belle-not-having-a-reaction-when
Honestly, if the genders were reversed and Rumple were a woman and Milah were a man, the whole fandom would be like:
I’m done with Milah, just talking about her makes me stabby. So onto Emma . . . . here’s March 2016 me:
https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/141400138912/so-hold-up-emma-tells-milah-about-neal
Someone slap her for me.
Also the “Poor Hook” bullshit:
https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/141200226257/what-pisses-me-off-the-most-about-the-whole-save
And Adam running away from fans who ask him valid questions that he has zero answers for:
https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/141895654207/audreyslovegrows-queen-of-the-merry-men
But Belle is pregnant so . . . . . yay? I remember thinking back then, “Gee I wonder how they’ll fuck THIS up.”
Here, have some hilarious fan art from the really good scene we all love:
https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/141429781082
BTW, despite all the bitching, MAJOR KUDOS to Robert Carlyle for knocking it out of the park on this one! Well done, sir!
This show doesn’t deserve you.
Points tally:
40 points to start
15 points for Rumple centric (was the last one SERIOUSLY Season 3? I think it was, JFC, this show . . . . )
10 points for Papafire
5 points for Swan Queen
5 points for in character Rumple
5 points deducted for Hook
Despite my bitching, which is mainly about the CHARACTER Milah, I didn’t dislike this episode. Full 25 bonus, no deductions.
Total points: 95
Follow #celtichearted OUAT ranking tag for more to come!
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Fic: Cadillac Love
Rated: E
Cadillac Love
“Dad, that does not sound healthy. When was the last time you had this thing serviced?”
Gold pointedly avoided the question, but if pressed he would have to agree with his son’s statement that the Cadillac did not sound how a Cadillac ought to sound.
Still, it wasn’t his fault that the thing hadn’t seen a mechanic for many more years than it should. Mr Tillman, the only mechanic Gold had trusted to come within an inch of his prized car, had left town a few years ago to take care of his children after his ex-wife died, and whilst Gold would never begrudge the man’s decision, he also would never allow anyone else to touch the Cadillac.
At any rate, despite the strange noises, the car had got them home safely and now all it had to do was sit in the driveway and recover until they needed it again. Which hopefully would not be too soon. The bonnet really was just a tad too hot for Gold’s liking.
“Look, I know it’s your pride and joy and I think that you love it more than me sometimes, but you’ve got to take care of it.” Neal scrabbled around in his overstuffed pockets and handed over a business card. “French is the best mechanic I’ve ever met. Better than Mr Tillman was, if you can believe that. The Cadillac will be in safe hands, I promise.”
Reluctantly, Gold took the card and tucked it away in his coat. Neal was right of course. Neal was always right about these kinds of things. The Cadillac definitely needed some TLC. Perhaps it was time to take a leap of faith and trust someone else with it.
It turned out that he needed the car sooner than he’d anticipated after all. Neal had gone out to catch up with old friends he’d missed during his first year at college, and Gold needed to go and collect the rent from The Rabbit Hole. It was a walkable distance, but the weather was atrocious, and Gold had no desire to turn up at the establishment looking like a drowned rat, no matter how much he might want to save the car.
With bated breath, he got in and started the engine. It spluttered once before nicely purring into life, and Gold smiled. He could pretend that he’d never heard that first splutter. All the same, he stuck to low speeds, crawling through the town until he reached his destination.
The Rabbit Hole was never his favourite place even in its best moments, and Friday night happy hour was definitely not one of its best moments. He went up to the bar, pleased when the bartender saw him and immediately paled, rushing off to the back room with a squeak of ‘yes I’ll just get that rent for you now’.
Gold sat down on a bar stool to wait, not paying too much attention to his surroundings until someone spoke to him.
“What can I get you?”
It was the young woman on his left. Dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a little secretive smile on her face, as if she was sizing him up and she liked what she saw. Gold liked what he saw, too, and he felt a pull of desire in the pit of his stomach that he had not felt for a very long time. He shook his head crossly. He was far too old to be picking up young women in bars for one-night stands.
“I’m driving,” he said quickly, to cover the sudden movement.
The woman shrugged. “Something non-alcoholic then. Come on, let a girl show a little interest in the mysterious stranger.” She held out a hand. “I’m Belle.”
“Gold.”
The bartender came back with the rent money and Gold set to counting it out whilst Belle ordered a gin and tonic for herself and an orange juice for him. He smiled, stowing the rent packet safely in his pocket and deciding that since he was in a good mood, having met this young lady who seemed against all the odds to be interested in him, he would not mention the fact that they were ten dollars short this month.
Belle toasted her glass against his. “So, you’re the infamous Mr Gold. I take it that you drove here in your Cadillac?”
Gold nodded.
“Oh, I love that car,” Belle said. There was an almost dreamy quality to her voice. “I practically drool over it whenever I see it in town. I’ve give anything to get a closer look at it.” She leaned in close, whispering in his ear before kissing the lobe. “And a closer look at its owner, of course.”
Gold gulped, willing his cock to stop twitching. It was so long since anyone had shown any sexual interest in him that he was getting ahead of himself, and he kept fearing that this was all an elaborate candid camera set up and he’d be the laughingstock of the town in the morning. But Belle’s bright eyes were genuine, and he felt, perhaps against his better judgement, that she was someone he could trust. Her enthusiasm towards the Cadillac was certainly a point in her favour, and he was pleased to have stumbled across someone with such a good taste in cars.
They continued to talk as they finished their drinks, the innuendo coming thick and fast by the end, and Gold knew that even if the Cadillac was working perfectly, they still wouldn’t be leaving the parking lot any time soon. Belle linked her arm through his as they left the bar, rushing through the heavy rain to get into the car.
Once in, they looked at each other for a moment, and then they were kissing; frantic, heated kisses with lips and teeth and tongues, licking and biting as fingers carded into wet and rumpled hair. Gold pushed his seat back as far as he could and Belle scrambled over onto him, pulling her skirt up around her waist and grinding her hips against his, the pressure against his cock sending him half-mad with want.
He reached down to cup her through her panties, tracing up and down the line of her slit through the damp fabric and making her moan, head thrown back. He took his chances, yanking the panties down so that he could see and touch her properly, and Belle wriggled out of them altogether, tossing them onto the dashboard.
Gold found her clit, rubbing roughly with his thumb whilst his fingers explored her slippery folds, pushing up inside her entrance.
“You’re good,” Belle gasped. “For all you say you’re out of practice. Keep going!”
Gold was happy to obey, his other hand pinching her clit as he pressed another finger inside, stroking her inner walls.
“Fuck!” Belle screamed as she came suddenly, fluttering around his fingers, her hips bucking forward against his hand. “Fuck, Gold, you’re good.”
She kissed him again as she began to come down from her high, and then her hands were on his belt, opening his fly and taking out his cock, stroking and tugging him deftly until Gold was panting, eyes closed. Her thumb brushed over his tip, playing with his foreskin and smearing the drops of precum that were already starting to show. Although he might not be rusty when it came to giving ladies pleasure, he was most certainly not used to lasting for any length of time. His recent experience had been quick and functional touches in the shower to find release as fast as possible, and now he wanted to enjoy Belle’s wonderful fingers, but he could already feel his climax coming.
He spurted thickly over her hand, splashing on his waistcoat. That was going to take some explaining to the dry cleaners, but it was absolutely worth it.
“Fuck. Belle.”
“You can definitely fuck Belle.” She kissed him again. “I have plenty of condoms at home. You can fuck Belle all night if you want.”
“Yes, I think that’s a great idea.”
They set themselves and the car to rights, Belle using her discarded panties to wipe the misted windows, and Gold turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened.
He tried again. Still nothing.
“It’s ok,” Belle said. Gold shook his head and with a sigh, pulled out the mechanic’s card and started to dial the number.
“Honestly, you don’t need to call a mechanic,” Belle said, just as her phone began to ring.
Gold just stared at her as she held out a hand.
“Belle French, local mechanic. Pleased to meet you.”
Gold cut the call and shook her hand, still dumbstruck. “Likewise.” At least he knew that she would treat the Cadillac with the respect that it deserved. She opened the passenger door.
“You’ll get soaked!” Gold protested.
“Oh, what a terrible thought.” Belle’s smile was cheeky, her eyes bright and teasing. “I’ll have to take off all my wet clothes when we get inside. Maybe a hot shower will be in order. You’ll have to warm me up. Skin to skin, of course, that’s the best way.” She darted in and kissed him again before jumping out of the car and going to look at the engine, leaving Gold utterly gobsmacked, his head full of rather distracting images of taking a very wet and very naked Belle French on the Cadillac’s bonnet…
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So, I need advice on how to play Rumple. IDK I’ve had my confidence in how I play him shaken because it feels like I need to justify WHO he is as a character right now a little too much.
I mean, this is how I see him and if you’ve got the patience to read it, thank you. But primarily I’m looking for feedback. For people to tell me if I’ve completely misunderstood the character I’ve felt closest to since day one. Because honestly, if I don’t KNOW him, then who the fuck does, right?
He wasn’t always after power. That’s my primary thing. When you look at young Rumple all he wanted was his Papa to love him. He grew up neglected, emotionally abused and then was abandoned FOR power. For me, that was the start of a very skewed relationship with power itself, but it didn’t make it his automatic driving point.
Growing up he was content with the small things, as we see. He was content to just be around his Dad and, when with the Spinsters, he thrived when he was getting praise for his natural spinning skills. Growing in to a man there was no indication that he wanted power; far from it, actually. He was happily married, settled in to a typically feminine job of spinner and doing all he could to provide for the woman he loved. He was just living his life like a normal man.
Then comes the battlefield and the things the seer told him. Now, people can say he was selfish in wanting to get out of battle but he was THERE. He was afraid, but he was there. He made no efforts to actually run from battle, instead accepting that he would likely die the next day, UNTIL the seer told him about him about to be a Father. Back comes rushing all of the ways he felt about his own Papa and how he was abandoned. The pain, the feelings of not being worthy. For me, injuring his leg so he survived and hobbling miles home (humiliated and called a coward) was a selfless act. He made that choice not for himself but for his son. He will have known that he would be considered a coward. Perhaps even known Milah would be angry that he’d brought that shame on them. But he was willing to shoulder that so his son wouldn’t grow up without a Father like he did. So his son would grow up knowing he was loved by the man that was meant to do anything for him. Which he quite literally did.
He even bargained away any future hope of adding to his family in order to save Bae. Was that impulsive? Yes. Was it selfish? Yes. But it came from a desperate man doing desperate things. Desperate is a theme we see running through his character right from day one. He’s desperate for love, desperate to be a Father, desperate to do right by his boy. So desperate that he constantly self sabotages himself because he doesn’t fully think through the consequences or, when he does, decides to take on the negative consequences for that one positive.
He even shouldered the pain of Milah walking out on them so his son could grow up never feeling abandoned like he had done. He was selfless time and time again. What would his son care about his humiliation at being left? He wouldn’t. So telling Bae that Milah was dead wasn’t to spare himself, it was to spare his son’s feelings.
He even took the Darkness on for his son. The very quotes state that he tells his son to imagine what he could do with that power, how he could protect him. How he could save ALL of the children. Not saying the power aspect wasn’t tempting but to pretend that his motivation wasn’t skewed more in favour of actually saving his son’s life is to not understand his character at all.
When Bae used the dagger to control him what did he do? He wiped his son’s memories of it and let his son believe he was a monster, all to save his own heart from darkness. That’s not selfish, that’s selfless. Even with the darkness he was still putting his son first.
Then comes when he fucked it up; letting go of his son’s hand in his moment of weakness. He had the taste of power then, he knew that he was a more formidable man now than he had ever been before. He could walk properly! He could provide for his son! He could have anything he wanted without the struggle. People came to HIM for deals, people knew he was capable. He’d gone from being mocked for being a coward and a cripple to being feared for his power. That’s addictive and heady for anyone to handle. What he did in letting go of Bae was his first real selfish act and it was a shitty thing to do. Something he immediately regretted but there went his impulsive nature again; acting sometimes before truly looking at the consequences.
What appears to be at least a hundred to two hundred years pass by and he dedicates himself to finding a way to find his son. He even manages to confront his own Mother during that period, showing his own fears and pains when it comes to being abandoned. Pan had done it and so had Fiona; Rumple was damaged by it and by abandoning his own son like he had done was damaged further. He sacrificed his chance at true love to find his son; he did it in a cowardly way, but that’s the root of who he is in the end. He’s vulnerable and he’s afraid, and the darkness gives him a shield from all of that.
When he did let his guard down with Cora she only broke his heart and tricked him; to him being vulnerable is a weakness, yet when it comes to love it’s one he can’t help. IE when he’s reunited with Belle he doesn’t hesitate in telling her he loves her because his initial impulsive reaction to shoo her away so he can find his son (without even contemplating that he could balance both if he just learned to trust her) was the wrong thing.
He learns from his mistakes. Maybe not immediately, and he damn sure repeats some of them but he does learn. He’s not JUST a power hungry, selfish assholes. Jesus, the man DIED to save his son and Belle. (and the rest of the townsfolk but that was just collateral).
See, I think he’s very much an introvert with extrovert qualities because of the darkness. I think the Darkness is his mask, his way of hiding those introverted qualities that make him feel insecure and less than and he uses the darkness as a way of being what he thinks is an untouchable force. But I look at him and I see those introverted qualities because I have them too. Only trusting and caring for a handful of people but boy when he does, he does with his whole heart. He has little hobbies, has an addictive personality and tends to hyper-fixate on things.
Zelena - I fully believe she was indeed in love with him and he knew it too. He needed someone to sacrifice who they loved for his curse which is why he cast her aside. No point being the one she loves and who needs to die for the curse he needs! What he did to her was cruel, but I also fully believe that when she had him captive she abused him physically, emotionally, mentally and sexually. You see that from how he recoils from people’s touch after that, how he genuinely seems afraid when people are in his personal space. He was reduced to a shell of himself by her which is why he acted out after it, did the shitty things he did and power grabbed. Because the moment power is taken from him, he’s hurt. The moment someone sees a weakness in him, he’s hurt. So to Rumple, psychologically I think for him power isn’t just for the sake of power. Power is to keep safe. Power is to make sure nobody can hurt him.
We do see further hints of how he’s capable of being a hero and selfless though when he is willing to fight a damned bear (Merida) to protect Belle. Armed with nothing, with his limp too, he’s willing to die to save her. Again. Don’t tell me those are the actions of a selfish man. Don’t tell me that he’s JUST a power hungry asshole because he is so much deeper than that.
When he finally (and I’m skipping through a lot of the show because shit man they kept going back and forth with him at one point which is basically a mix of bad writing and Rumple being damaged and desperate) had his chance at being a Papa again Belle decided to listen to whatever the fuck was going on with Gideon and was going to keep him from his own son. His actions with keeping her on the boat and the bracelet were not appropriate, no. They were however his way of trying to get control back. Of trying to have this second chance that he was so desperate to have. He’s a Papa, and when he’s good at it, he’s GOOD at it. That season was a clusterfuck of bad writing though because Belle was wildly ooc at times (befriending her husbands abuser?!?!).
ANYWAY. What I’m trying to essentially say is that how I play him is how I see him. He makes mistakes, he doesn’t like a lot of people and that Darkness (as we saw with Emma) is a corruption that you have to be mentally strong to overcome. He controlled it. He didn’t try to kill everyone with it like Hook did, did he? He’s not quite as weak as everyone says, nor is he as villainous as some want to just pigeonhole him to be. I play him as a man that’s capable of enormous amounts of love, is very much ‘ride or die’ and will threaten to cut you if you so much as look at the woman he loves the wrong way. He’s a dedicated if overbearing Papa. But he’s also impulsive, he also is selfish and he also feels like he needs the power of the Dark One to be safe and strong. He doesn’t seem to see his own natural strength and courage and instead relies on shows of power, schemes and plots. He can be underhanded, he can be even downright cruel to the right people. He is vengeful, he is broken and he is a goddamn hero in his own way. He is sarcastic and sharp, he is humble in some ways and absolutely egotistical in others. He is abused, he has been abandoned and he has been a lousy parent at times.
What I want to know, please, is if people see him differently and if I need to be playing him differently? I don’t want to do an injustice to a character that means the absolute world to me. An ask, anonymous if you want, would really be appreciated. Thank you if you read my ramblings this far and thank you for any advice and tips you can send my way.
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The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Dark Curse
Chapter 147: The Present Future
He was furious. He could have killed her. Them! The union between Prince Charming, David, and the Bandit Snow White was possibly the most important part of this plot. Getting Regina ready, getting his collection in order, stealing the Curse, none of that mattered if Snow and David never met or fell in love because then he wouldn't have the Swan, the Savior, to break his Curse and take him to Baelfire!
Oh, he hoped, hoped with all his might, as he whisked them away to his castle that this was all a mistake. Perhaps the girl wasn't the Swan. Perhaps she was the daughter of some other random couple he'd brought together and simply thought too highly of herself. He had no proof that she belonged to Snow or to David. Blonde hair like that? Not in either family, not as far as he knew. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that she looked like the Swan. And she was with the pirate. This could be a plot. Probably Jones was using the poor girl for revenge! He'd sailed the seas, Ursula could have told him about the Curse if they'd ever come across one another in their travels.
He'd nearly convinced himself it was a lie! Until the visions he'd had sitting at the table came back to him. How could the future change that drastically all at once unless it was so? And then there was the idea of the product of True Love. No one, not Belle or Cora or the Blue Fairy, could have told her that information. A lucky guess? Oh, how he hoped it was.
One thing was abundantly clear, he had to get to the bottom of this. He had to see if she was telling the truth, if they were both telling the truth. If they weren't, he had to protect himself. He'd kill them, happily and without doubt for such a deception. If they were, he had to protect everyone and everything he'd worked for all these years. He needed to set history back on track. And he wasn't going to do it in the forest.
"This way…" he growled, leading them from the foyer into the Great Room. Belle's heartbeat was somewhere upstairs and out of the way. The Great Room was the best choice considering he wasn't about to let Jones into his tower lest he really want something from him. He needed to approach this carefully, to see what they wouldn't reveal to see how much they knew before he could help them. If he could help them. When he'd brought them back to the castle, he'd purposefully lowered the hood on the girl's cloak. She did bear a striking resemblance to the Swan, but so could half a dozen women he could find right now. It proved nothing. Not until they proved beyond a shadow of a doubt they were who they said they were, or rather she was who she said she was.
"Thank you, Mr. Gol-Rumpelstiltskin, for believing us," the girl breathed, accepting his hospitality falsely as help. "I know that time travel is hard to swallow."
"Not as hard as the other mystery you've presented me," he stopped mid-room, noting happily what he already knew. It was set up as he'd left it for Belle, but she wasn't here. Close by, yes, a floor above, perhaps but not here. Saddened as he was that she hadn't taken the day to relax as he'd hoped he was also quite happy about that. He wanted to keep her away from all of this if she could manage it.
"Why haven't I killed him?" he questioned first, pointing at Killian Jones. It seemed a safe question. They were from the future, a future where he would need the Swan desperately to find his son. If the Swan was here now with Hook and the Swan had already confessed that he'd found his son in their time, then one might easily conclude he knew Hook in this other time as well. So, if he'd vowed to kill the pirate, how was it he was still alive?
"If it makes you feel any better, it wasn't for lack of effort," Killian shrugged. "Let's just say we bury the hatchet."
"Yes," he laughed as he pirate looked around. "But why not in your skull?" He wanted details. There wasn't a single scenario in his head where he would allow the wife-stealing slug to live. That on its own was just as suspicious as his interest in the décor! Until he heard all too late what held the pirate's attention.
Footsteps…Belle.
"Oh! Rumpelstiltskin you're…you're back!" she smiled, looking between the pair of them and at him again, a feather duster in her hand. He let himself take a couple of steps back as he considered her intrusion. He wanted her nowhere near any of this, least of all near Jones, not until he had every confidence he knew what the pirate wanted here. "Do you, uh, do you need anything?"
"Belle!" the blonde-haired woman gasped, turning to look at her. He took a gulp of air in an effort to relieve the sudden tension he felt at her appearance and recognition. Belle noticed. The woman seemed shocked to see Belle. Belle seemed shocked that someone had known her name. He was shocked that Belle was a familiar face to the pair of them. Why, he wondered, was he feeling suddenly nervous? If they were who they said they were, then one might deduce that they knew her from the future, but if they were lying and they were from this time and carrying out some plot then Belle might betray them and put herself in danger. That was the last thing he wanted. Why hadn't he suggested she take the day off and read up in the library!
"So…do we know each other?"
He let his breath out at her response. Not a familiar face to her then. There was no danger unless she was in on the plan and just going along with it, and he'd known her long enough by now to know that she was incapable of doing such a task as well as this. Lying was not his maid's forte. That would suggest then that their story was true. They knew Belle from the future, just as they knew him…did that make things better or worse?
"Oh…sorry…no," the girl stuttered awkwardly, suddenly looking down and away as if to hide her face. "Um…Mister…Rumple…The Dark One, um, told me about you."
Oh, that was certainly not the right thing to say to get her to leave the room! He knew that even before he saw her face light up at such a suggestion.
"Did he?" she questioned with a smile in his direction.
"No!" he denied, stepping in between them so he could get rid of her properly and without causing a problem. "Go away and read a book, or whatever it is you like to do," he ordered, shooing his hands at her and opening she'd get the message to leave them be.
He knew she would. She was a smart woman and had learned much in her time here. She knew better than to interrupt his business meetings. At least he hoped she did.
"Come back and clean later."
"You could ask nicely," she pointed out in a teasing manner.
"I could also turn you into a toad!" he remarked. He smiled as he pointed, despite telling himself not to. She gave him a look, one that knew he wasn't serious before she finally turned to leave, and he let out a sigh of relief. One problem handled, back to the bigger one.
"It's a miracle you two fall for each other."
He let out a laugh to cover the choke that had nearly made him break into a cough. The Alleged Swan Girl hadn't just said what he thought she'd said…had she?
"What?!" he questioned, making sure that Belle was well out of the room, checking her heartbeat to be sure she was far enough away that she couldn't hear anymore or stumble upon them again. It was one thing for him to get ideas, it was another thing for her to get crazy thoughts. The way she read books, she would fall in love with a story like what this girl was presenting and if she made an effort to make it come true…she was the last thing he needed right now. "I mean, first you tell me I let the Pirate live. Now you're telling me I fall for the help."
"Yes. She has a strange sense of humor. But let's get back to her parents," Hook interrupted awkwardly, with a false laugh and smile that reminded him of something. Where had he seen a look like that before?
"Yes." Better yet, when it came to the Pirate, why did he care? The girl's parents were the key here; the parents she claimed to have interrupted but hadn't actually proved she belonged to. She hadn't spoken a single name since she'd been here, not even her own. "Who are they?" he questioned, turning to sit down in Belle's seat at the end of the table; hoping, praying that she would give him any answer besides the one he wanted to hear.
"Snow White and Prince Charming."
Damn.
"Prince Charming?" he repeated the name as if he thought it was precious, but in reality, he was trying to keep his temper cool. Up until now, there was only one person to use that name, and it was the Seer. That did not bode well for his future.
"His real name is Prince James."
Was it now?
"King George's son, whose wedding I've just arranged?"
"See, that's what I'm trying to tell you. This marriage isn't supposed to happen because the ring he was going to give her gets stolen by Snow."
The vision he'd seen of the royal pouch with a ring in it. He'd seen Snow White attack the caravan before it had faded and what actually had played out also played in his mind.
Damn it all…she knew everything. She hadn't given any indication that she knew that James was actually David, but that was easily explained away by assuming he never told anyone; like mother like son. Dammit! He'd just seen David go tell his mother good-bye. And he'd just had the thought a few days ago that the power was with the right people that it might be a secret that remained that way for the rest of his life. Perhaps that was what had happened. Still, this was very bad news.
"It's quite a tale you're spinning," he muttered, trying to cover his fear.
They were supposed to meet. She was supposed to steal a ring he was to give to her. A ring...the same damn ring he'd seen Ruth give to David when she'd gone to him. Fuck. It was true. How was he supposed to fix this?
"Here, let me show you. It's in the book," the Swan exclaimed. He watched as Hook made himself busy with the bag that was slung over his shoulder. From within it, he pulled out what appeared to be a thick book, and though the Swan grabbed it from him quickly, he caught a glimpse of the title "Once Upon a Time…" on its cover. From the depths inside his mind, Nimue jumped to attention. He kept a gentle smile on his face as the girl quickly rushed forward to show him the object. She opened it before him to the back of the book where there were nothing but blank pages and-
"Wait. What?" she gasped. At first, he couldn't guess at what had her so distressed, and then, for the first time in well over a hundred years, without the command of the dagger, Nimue started whispering. Suddenly he knew what he was looking at. And suddenly he knew what he wasn't looking at. It was the proof he needed.
"It's all gone. Anything that was supposed to happen after they met has disappeared."
"The Ripple Effect," he announced, feeling glad he was sitting down and was still capable of putting on a show. He felt light-headed as he understood. He understood everything they were saying, and he wished he didn't. He was going to be sick. Worse, if he didn't fix this, if Snow White and David didn't meet, if they never had the girl before him, if Merlin's author never finished the pages of his book, then the Swan's words were true. He'd never see Baelfire again.
No. No, he refused to give into that kind of thinking. He'd come this far, too far to let the little girl that was supposed to be his salvation be his destruction. He had to fix this and quickly. Every day that the Prince and Princess didn't know each other was one day less to conception. It was one more day away from Baelfire.
"Once you change something in the past, anything from that point forward becomes uncertain. The future, as you can see..." he explained, turning a page to one that was fully written out and illustrated, "is a blank page."
All our lives are stories Rumpelstiltskin, stories that other realms will tell one day. The Red Fairy had said that to him in his youth, when she'd first told him about who his mother was and wanted him to move on. Nimue whispered words of an author's pen, and now this…they'd both been telling the truth.
"We need to get Snow to steal that ring, so we can put their story back on track."
"You're in luck," he informed her, feeling glad he'd been watching the journey from George's Kingdom to Midas'. They'd arrived just this morning. George and Midas both wanted the union sealed quickly, and that left them with little time, but just enough opportunity to get things to work again. The Engagement Party. "There's a ball tonight at King Midas' castle. Prince James will be there, and so will his ring."
"So, we just need to get Snow there," the Swan realized.
"How? We don't even know where she is," Jones muttered.
Now that was a problem all too easy to solve, and this was two so long as he had two individuals willing to do the grunt work. They could get the lovers to meet, and he could figure out what to do with them when they were done.
He cleared his throat and drew their attention back to him. "Allow me," he stated before walking over to the table he'd left his crystal ball on. He waved his hand over it, and what greeted them was a soundless image of a cloak he knew belonged to dear Snow White and another pirate in a tavern. Small world.
"There she is," the Swan breathed.
"She's with Black Beard. She's trying to secure passage on his ship."
He hated to admit it, but it seemed that the Pirate's conclusion was an accurate one. Right up until the pirate in the ball stood up and walked away, leaving a shadow of a money bag behind. That was easy enough for him to read: no deal. "And, it appears failing."
"She can't escape the Queen without the money she's supposed to get for the ring," the Swan realized, her eyes going wide as she glanced over at Jones. "Can you help us?" she asked again.
"Help you?" he questioned. He had little choice in the matter if he wanted to see Bae again, but that didn't mean he was going to let them know that. "I can work on getting your portal to the future open again, but getting your parents together? You made that mess, dearie. Only you know what you did. Now go, undo it."
He left the pair of them there to discuss their options. The truth was, he would have loved to help a bit more than just on figuring out the next steps, but he also believed in not overwhelming himself and stepping where he shouldn't. The girl had a story in her head. One that she knew and not he, one that, if she was successful tonight, she and she alone would know forever and for all time for according to the book in front of him, it was being rewritten right now. And he wondered, as he sat down, what did she know? About him? About Hook? About Baelfire? All our lives are stories Rumpelstiltskin, stories that other realms will tell one day. If they were from the future, the future where everything worked the way he wanted it to, then that meant that they would be in another realm where their lives were stories. Could it all be that simple? All written down and recorded and open to him if he simply flipped a few pages.
"Thanks for your help!" Emma exclaimed suddenly, returning to the table to scoop the book, and temptation, away from him. His fingers twitched even as she did it, but he had to reluctantly agree that it was probably for the best.
"Swan, we've got to go!"
"We'll be in touch," she cried over her shoulder as Hook hurried her along.
"Journey safely," he called as they practically sprinted out of the room. Once they were gone and he heard the echo of the door, he shivered. Not for what was going on or what had happened, but because of Jones, because of one little word that he'd said that confirmed everything, leaving no doubts in his mind, not that he'd had many by the time all was done.
He'd called her Swan.
#Rumbelle#Rumple#Rumpelstiltskin#Dark One#Belle#Captain Swan#Emma Swan#Captain Hook#Killian Jones#Snowing#Snow White#Prince Charming#Nimue#ouat#ouat fanfiction#fanfic
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Coming Home: Chapt. 5
Summary: 23 years ago, lies were told. Now, part of the truth can finally be revealed. But will Emma listen to it?
Also on AO3/FF
August 10th, 1989
Snow stormed the mayor’s office. She could feel a white heat boiling over her entire body. Her eyes locked on Regina, her memories mixing. She looked so different than she had the day the curse was cast. Her hair was shorter and she dressed relaxed. Then again, everything in Storybrooke seemed relaxed to how things were in the Enchanted Forest. Her eyes narrowed as she thought of her husband bleeding out on the ground, not waking up no matter how many times her lips grazed his. The wardrobe being thrown open and her daughter being gone.
Her daughter.
Snow thought of the little girl that was currently being babysat by Ruby. Mary Margaret had been fostering her for the past 8 months. They had plans to adopt her. Emma was the savior, she was supposed to break the curse. Yet, no matter how many kisses on the cheek or goodnight cuddles, the town was still cursed. Even David wasn’t awake. Snow would still be her cursed self had she not noticed the blossoming flowers in the yard.
They didn’t look like anything she had planted over the years. No, they were bright pink, resembling a rose but her years of gardening told her they weren’t. They had been there since winter, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. They didn’t weed like the others. It took until summer for Mary Margaret to finally decide to pick a bouquet for the front hall.
The moment she grasped one, some glitter fell into her hand and her entire body shifted. Mixing in with Mary Margaret’s foggy memories of finishing college, marrying David and everything that came before Emma’s arrival were replaced by the reality: her life as Snow White. The day she met Regina. The moment she became a bandit. Falling in love with David. Finding out that one day they would have a child.
Most importantly: the day her baby was born. The curse enveloping them. The last thing she ever saw being Regina’s sick smile.
“You,” Snow seethed.
Regina looked up, confusion written across those big brown eyes. Then it must have clicked. She slowly stood up, folding her arms over her chest.
“Snow White.” She took a step closer. “You’re awake.”
“No thanks to you.”
“This shouldn’t be happening. You…”
“Were supposed to be miserable for 28 years?” A bitter laugh escaped Snow’s mouth. “I’m surprised you even know it’s me.”
“Mary Margaret never looked at me like this.”
“Mary Margaret didn’t know what you had done.”
Regina tilted her head. “So, what’s your plan here? I’m assuming you’re the only one awake or else I’d have a mob outside my door.”
Snow thought of Gold, no Rumpelstiltskin. He had been extra helpful to Mary Margaret and David when it came to trying to adopt Emma. There is no way that the Mr. Gold that had been asleep would be so willing. Rumple was the one obsessed with their daughter. She was the key to the curse. He had to be awake.
She wasn’t about to out that. No, that would put more people in danger.
“I don’t know how it happened either, but I won’t be alone for long. Emma is here. She’ll break the curse.”
“Your foster daughter?” Regina laughed. “What does she have to do with anything?”
Snow continued staring at her, until it seemed to click in her mind.
“She’s more than just your foster daughter, isn’t she?”
“Surprise.”
“How…I don’t…” Regina clenched her desk. “It makes sense how she made the way over the town line.”
“Your plan has failed.”
“And what’s your plan once your precious little girl brings magic to this town?” Regina cocked an eyebrow. “You think I won’t find a way to defeat you? You couldn’t stop me last time. Maybe my knights will actually succeed in killing your precious family this time.”
Snow didn’t know what she was doing until her fist was throbbing and Regina had her face covered. Blood dripped to the marble tile. It was both of theirs. Regina gasped, her hand over her nose. Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re going to regret that.”
“You stay away from my family or you’ll be the one that has regrets. This may be your town, Regina, but I know you. And I will not let you win. Not again.”
She stormed out of the office, shaking out her hand. Dammit. This was going to bruise. There was a cut from where her emerald ring had pierced Regina. It was all worth it. As she got out of the office and onto the street, she ran into someone. The tumble of a cane into her shin made her realize who it was.
“Rumple.”
He fixed her with a look. “You’re awake.”
“And I know you’ve been for awhile now. How?”
“Let’s just say Regina’s not the only one who can work things into a curse.” He looked down at her throbbing fist. “I take it you paid Miss Mills a visit.”
“The Queen isn’t going to win this time. How can we get Emma to break the curse?”
Gold sighed. “Snow, I told you before. It can only be broken after her 28th birthday. That’s when she was fated to return to you and your husband.”
“But she’s here now! There has to be another way.”
“I’m afraid not. Somehow, she ended up in your care again, but magic is specific. This town cannot have its curse lifted for another 23 years. And now that Miss Mills knows you’re awake, you’re all in danger.”
Arrogance had always been Snow’s downfall. If only she knew what she was setting herself up for. But she didn’t want to think about that. No, she could find a way. Rumpelstiltskin had to be wrong.
“I won’t let her hurt my child again. And I don’t need your help to break the curse. I’ll figure it out.”
She began to walk away and could hear Rumpelstiltskin let out a long sigh.
“Why don’t we go back to my shop and have a spot of tea?” He offered. “We can work this out together.”
October 26th, 2011
Rumpelstiltskin knew that Mr. Gold never had a customer. Over the past 28 years, only three people had ever entered his shop: Regina Mills and the Charmings. Gold had never minded it; the shop was hardly his only source of income. Ever since Miss Swan returned to town, however, and the clock started moving, there had been the nosy customer every so often, suddenly interested in purchasing things or trying to get money for something else. Miss Boyd paid him a visit quite often, trying to get him to reverse her contract.
Oh, the irony that Mr. Gold had struck one up with her as well.
As he polished silver that was already shiny, he heard the bell above the door open. He looked up to find Emma heading towards him. The file he had gifted her was tucked under her arm, ripped open at the top. Her eyes were tear stained. Rumpelstiltskin kept up appearances and didn’t smile, nor frown.
“Miss Swan,” he said. “I take it you’ve read the information I gave you?”
She slammed the file onto the glass case in front of him. “Is this real?”
“Real?”
“Did Mary Margaret and David pay you to put this together?”
Rumpelstiltskin finally allowed himself to smile. “Miss Swan, they have no clue I even spoke to you.”
She let out a shaky breath. “So…it’s true.”
“Yes. Miss Blanchard, then Mrs. Nolan, assaulted the mayor when she threatened to have you taken away from her. Madam Mayor reported this to social services, who deemed that Mr. and Mrs. Nolan were not the right fit for you.”
Of course, social services knew nothing of the curse or the fact that Regina had been punched for threatening to kill Emma and David. There was no proof of it. It was information that not even Mary Margaret could remember. Rumpelstiltskin had forgotten it for 23 years himself. Now, it replayed in his mind as if it were warm water.
Snow White sitting at a table in the back of his shop. He fixed them a cup of tea, finding the one bit of magic that had made it through the curse. He had written it in that way. It wasn’t much, but enough to make sure that if anyone ever woke up before it was time-himself included-they’d fall back asleep. There was only one vial, enough for two people. Magic couldn’t exist in Storybrooke, not yet.
He had watched her sip the tea. The fierceness in her eyes melted away. Her shoulder slouched. As she dropped the teacup to the saucer, that annoyingly adorable confusion that made her beloved by the kingdom fell over her face. She had looked around the backroom, blinking.
“What am I doing here?”
“Don’t you remember, Mrs. Nolan, you wanted to discuss Emma’s adoption. I told you there were some hurdles, but I’m working on it.”
She had blinked again. “Oh, yes.”
Once she left, Rumpelstiltskin waited. He hadn’t expected for Regina to call social services or for Emma to be taken. Had he known, maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did. There was no way Snow White would have let Emma slip away. But Mary Margaret and David didn’t know the claim they held on their daughter. They fell against the law.
Alas, it was too late. Emma was gone. He had to trust she’d find her way back. He used the rest of the memory potion to wipe away his memories of the 8 months she had spent in town. His mind had become a blur once more.
Until he walked into the bed and breakfast, where an adult Emma stood.
He couldn’t tell her any of that, though. Instead, he watched the woman’s mind reel at the information.
“They didn’t want to lose me,” she whispered.
“They fought for you. There was just nothing they could’ve done. Even my powers as attorney were not enough. Social services didn’t deem them objective enough to foster you.”
A single tear fell down Emma’s face. He reached into his breast pocket, extending a handkerchief that she refused.
“My whole life, I thought they had given up on me. But they wanted me.” Emma’s voice cracked. “Why wouldn’t they tell me this?”
“Social services removed you from school without their knowledge. By the time they found out you were gone, it was too late.”
“But even now…”
“Have you given them a chance?”
That shut her up. Emma stared at the file, another tear falling. She wiped at her face furiously, knocking her hand into the swan keychain that hung around her neck. Rumpelstiltskin was not sure why he felt the need to stare at it. Finally, he broke his eyes away to look back at her. She sniffled, trying to compose herself.
“If this is all true….I don’t know what to do with this,” Emma rambled.
Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. “Well, I’d at least say you owe them a conversation.”
Emma simply nodded. She picked the file back up and began to head out of the office. Suddenly, he remembered something.
“Oh, and Miss Swan?” She turned back to face him. “Since I helped you with something, I assume you’d be more than willing to get me out of a jam if needed.”
Emma blinked several times, before regaining composure. “What are you going to want?”
“Just as I said. If I need help, you’ll give it.”
Emma looked even more confused, but finally nodded. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”
Rumpelstiltskin waited until she exited his shop to smile gleefully to himself.
*x*
It didn’t take long to find Mary Margaret’s new loft. She was a bail bondsman; her job was to find people. After conversing with a few people, she found herself in a dimly lit hallway. A number 3 hung on the green door. The file was back in her bug, but the contents replayed in her mind.
She finally allowed her hand to rap on the door. When it opened, David stood on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” She blurted out. “Isn’t this Mary Margaret’s place?”
David suddenly looked defensive. “She asked me over to talk about…well, to talk about you.” He stared at her for a moment and it made her feel uncomfortable. “I still can’t believe you’re 28.”
“I need to talk to both of you.” She pushed past him, wanting nothing to do with his nostalgia.
Mary Margaret moved from the kitchen. “Emma…” She took in her face. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve been crying.”
“Did you really punch Regina Mills?”
Mary Margaret bit her lip. “She was threatening to take you away from us. I still don’t remember it that clearly…but…” She looked over at David, who was staring at the wall. “I shouldn’t have done it. We would’ve been able to keep you.”
“You defended me. You wanted to keep me.”
Mary Margaret’s eyebrows knitted together. “Of course we did.”
Emma’s voice caught. “You didn’t want to give me away. You…it….”
She tried to keep herself steady. It was bad enough she had cried in front of Gold, she couldn’t do it in front of them too. David moved closer to Mary Margaret, but neither said anything.
“My whole life, I thought you two just gave up on me,” she finally managed to get out. “But you fought for me.”
“Emma, we love you. So much.” David’s eyes were sincere and she hated it. “We never wanted to let you go. If we could’ve stopped it or at the very least explained it to you, we would’ve.”
“But they didn’t even tell us that they were taking you until Helen had already gone to get you from school,” Mary Margaret continued. “They said we couldn’t see you again, that it wouldn’t be healthy.”
She took a step closer to Emma, reaching out to touch her face. Emma didn’t pull away, despite her better instincts. Mary Margaret’s hands were always warm. Comforting. She had missed this. She had missed them. She had spent nights crying herself to sleep, just wishing she could be back in their arms.
Now there they were.
Her eyes burned with tears.
Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re gonna look stupid if you cry, one voice told her. But it was overshadowed by a memory from when she had lived with them. Mary Margaret caught her crying one night and she had been embarrassed.
“Big girls don’t cry,” Emma told her foster mom.
“Oh sweetie, that’s just a dumb myth. Big girls and boys definitely do cry.”’
The floodgates opened and Emma allowed herself to cry. The tears hit Mary Margaret’s hand, but her former foster mother didn’t seem to care. She simply moved to wrap both of her arms around Emma. A hug. It had been 23 years since the last hug she received from her. She still smelt the same, of cinnamon and red pen. David wrapped one arm around her and then used the over to cradle the back of her head. Just as he had when she was little.
It was comfortable. It was familiar. It was home.
#coming home verse#snowing#charming famly#snow white#david charming#emma swan#rumpelstiltskin#regina mills#ouat#once upon a time
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Once Upon A Curse
~~~~
When the Dark One sent her out to get straw, she happened upon the queen. The woman speaking to her brought her out of her thoughts, as she wondered if she should return to the castle or attempt to run away. The queen explained the true love’s kiss could break any curse, including Rumple’s. So, she thought about it. But, she never got the opportunity to return and try it.
Regina locked Belle in a tower, handing her over to a pirate who had a rather bumpy history with the dark one. From what she could understand, they targeted her because of what had happened with the gauntlet. It seemed Maleficent knew Regina well enough to share the events with the queen so she could control the Dark One.
Regina told Rumple that the maid was dead, having killed herself to escape his grasp. But, that was far from the truth. When Belle saw Rumple next, it had been a little over a year since her capture. Her dress and cloak were long gone, replaced with a dirty white one that was ripped and nearing see-through from how torn up it was. The pirate held her tightly, an arm circling around her shoulders as he held a knife to her back. Regina was in front of them, asking Rumple to trade his dagger for her return. When she waved to them, the pirate added a bit of leverage by pressing the blade into her back. “Go on, tell him what you told us. Come on now, you were so vocal before…” Belle shook her head, whining as he pressed the hook against her throat. “I-I… I love him.” She was almost embarrassed by the words, especially since she knew that they’d wanted her to say it.
Rumple felt both enraged and helpless as he watched Hook threaten his former maid. He should have known Regina was lying about Belle killing herself, but… well he’d always hurt those he cared about the most and it had just made sense that he would have done the same thing to her. But now he saw how he’d been manipulated and lied to, and how Belle had suffered because of it. All he wanted was for her to be free. She’d suffered enough.
And to make matters worse she said she loved him. She actually really loved him. It hurt so much, knowing that now, when likely nothing would come of it. Either she’d be killed or he’d be captured, or both. Still, he had to take the risk, and while he wasn’t happy with Regina, he trusted her to at least keep her word. So he could try to make the deal with her.
“Fine, I’ll give you the dagger,” he said, making it materialize in his hand. He saw the way both Regina and the pirate looked at it hungrily, and the queen even stepped forward to take it before he held it back. “But I have conditions.” He refused to look at Belle now, not wanting to see the look on her face. She’d probably be worried about him or something, but it would only hurt seeing her so concerned. “Condition one, you don’t kill me. You obviously will be able to control me with the dagger, so you can do anything else you want. Just don’t stab me with it.” Because he couldn’t die, not so close to seeing his son again. “And condition two, no harm comes to Belle, here or during the curse. In fact in the curse you will give her a comfortable life. Obviously not a happy one, I know what the curse does. But she will have any object she desires. If you can’t agree to these conditions then I have no reason to believe you won’t just kill Belle and myself the moment you have my dagger, so I have no reason to trade. So… do we have a deal?”
Belle shook her head, shivering as the dagger appeared in his hand. “Rumple, no! Please, don’t do this! They-” Hook sighed, covering her mouth with his arm as he pulled her closer. Regina chuckled at his conditions, tilting her head at him. She hadn’t expected him to just hand over the dagger easily, even with the threat to Belle’s life. “Oh, believe me, I have no intention of killing you. That would tie me to that damned dagger and I don’t need that. Control over the Dark One is plenty. As for Belle, she’s a good chess piece to keep on the board. It’s why I haven’t killed her already. This curse will be good for her. She’ll forget everything the pirate did with her over the past year.”
Belle wiggled uncomfortably, whining behind the pirate’s arm as she watched them helplessly. She struggled against him, but it was weak and her wrists were tied behind her back to keep her from trying anything. She knew just how much power that dagger had over Rumple, just how much power Rumple held. Belle was trying to warn him, to tell him that it didn’t matter what he did. They didn’t care about anything other than getting that dagger. Once they had it, she feared what they would do. Not just to her or to him, but to everyone.
Regina and Hook were beginning to impatient. Regina reached for the dagger as Hook pressed his blade against Belle’s stomach. “Stop stalling. I’ve won, Rumple. You have a weakness and you made that weakness clear to Maleficent. Hand it over. I am done waiting.”
Rumple hated how Hook stopped Belle from talking, but that was fine. She’d be free soon, and wouldn’t have to deal with the man. Regina mentioned something then Belle forgetting what Hook had done during the curse and that gave him pause. What had the pirate done? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. All he knew was that he was going to make sure he got his dagger back before the curse broke, one way or another. And then he’d make these two pay.
He glared at Hook as the man pressed his blade against Belle’s stomach, but the quickest way to get him to stop was to hand over the dagger. So he flipped the thing so he was holding it out to Regina, hilt first. “You may have my dagger now, but rest assured if you break our deal, you’ll regret it eventually.” If she kept it he wouldn’t kill her when this was all over, like he wanted to do. If she didn’t… well he’d make sure she suffered before he slit her throat.
As soon the dagger was in her hands, he could feel it. He imagined it must be something similar to how people who had their hearts removed felt. His very soul was now in the hands of another being, of Regina. It could be worse though. At least Hook didn’t have it. He was tempted to demand they let her go now, but he wasn’t sure that would be wise. After all, they may decide they needed to assert their dominance if he tried to order them around. So he stayed silent, watching to see what they’d do.
Once he handed her the dagger, Regina visibly relaxed and a smile played across her lip. “I don’t plan to break our deal. You’ve done as I’ve asked and you can have your maid back until I c-” Regina was cut off by the pirate pressing the dagger into Belle’s stomach, causing her to groan as she turned to him. “You idiot! You’ve rushed the whole plan!” Hook went to protest, but Regina silenced him with the raise of her hand. “Now, I have to rush to cast the spell to make sure this… damn maid doesn’t die.” Regina spun her hand, disappearing with Hook in a cloud of smoke. She’d wanted to gloat over Snow White’s loss, but now her plans were sped up.
Belle dropped to the floor once the pirate wasn’t there to hold her up, vision blurring as she suddenly became dizzy. She had so much she wanted to tell him, so much she’d wanted to say since she left this castle over a year ago. “R-Rumple… I-I…” The words wouldn’t come out or perhaps she was simply losing them before she could manage to make the thought become actual speech. “Sorry… N-no…” She was having trouble keeping her eyes open, trying to just think and keep her body from forcing her to fall asleep. She saw the smoke, watching it swirl around her vision until everything went black.
The next thing she knew, there were beeping sounds all around her and there was a warmth from a hand wrapped around hers. Belle was in the hospital in this new world without magic. She didn’t remember her life before this place, memories replaced with false ones. Belle opened her eyes slowly, looking around in confusion. She saw Rumple, sitting there with his hand wrapped around hers so tightly. But, she was confused rather than happy. “I-I… What’s…?” She pulled her hand from his, shrinking back in the bed as the monitor started to beep faster. A smiling woman came in, asking Belle to calm down and explaining that she’d been asleep for a long time. As soon as Belle’s breathing slowed down, the woman left the room in a hurry. Belle looked to Rumple, biting at her lip. “Wh-who are you? Why are you here?”
He should have known Hook would do something. He may trust Regina, but he should have known she didn’t have the pirate under control. He stabbed Belle despite the fact that Regina had Rumple’s dagger, and soon Rumple was holding her in his arms, hardly aware of the fact that the others were gone. He tried to heal her with his magic, but Hook had poisoned the blade with something. All he could do was stem the flow of blood with his hands, her blood staining his clothes as tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Belle,” he muttered brokenly, holding her close. “Belle, it’s okay. I… I’m not going to let you go. Stay with me,” he begged. Only after a minute he wasn’t in his normal clothes, and he wasn’t in the meeting place Regina had decided upon. He was sitting on the floor in some building, Belle still in his arms. There was some sort of device by his side, and a loud blaring sound and lights flashing outside. The next minutes were a blur, as people ran in and took Belle from him. He tried to blast them away with magic, only to find he had none here. The curse. Regina had cast the curse. And he still had his memories.
He hadn’t expected that. He had no information, no clue how to act normally. All he knew was Belle was right there, and he had to help her. So he went with the people who were helping her, not caring about his plain stained shirt or his aching ankle that seemed to be crippled again in this world. Instead he sat next to Belle when they let him, holding her hands in his. Until she woke, panicking.
“It’s okay,” he told her, holding his hands up in the universal sign of peace. He didn’t have a name to give her as he doubted his was common, but he could answer the second bit. “I’m just here to make sure you’re okay. You were hurt. I found you. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he assured her.
“I was hurt…” Belle gently touched her stomach, wincing at the pain from it. Gaston stepped inside, glaring at Rumple as he stepped inside. “Gold. Why am I not surprised that you’re here.” He quickly moved around, going to Belle’s side to take her hand. She recoiled from the touch on instinct, the false memories of their marriage and his abusive habits pushing forward into her head as he touched her.
“James… Yes, that’s right. I’m sorry. I-I… I think I’m just a bit confused.” She bit her lip, nervously looking from him to Rumple. “But, thank you for coming to check on me. I’ll be alright now. You shouldn’t worry.” Now that Gaston was there, she was trying to get them out of the same room. She felt that Rumple’s presence made Gaston unhappy, especially as more of the memories started to fill her head.
Gaston nodded, kissing Belle almost too roughly in an obvious display of ownership to the other man. “Of course you’re alright now. I couldn’t let anything bad happen to my darling wife, Lacey. You’re safe now.” Belle knew what he was doing, that he was trying to rub their marriage in Rumple’s face. But, she also knew better than to say anything against it. “I-I’ll… I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay? You can take today off. Since I’m not there to run the shop anyway.”
He turned his head when the other man stepped into the room, recognizing the knight who had foolishly drawn his sword when he’d been attempting to make a deal with Maurice and Belle. The man did do one good thing though, gave him his name. Gold. He found that rather uninspired, but let it for now, more worried at how Belle tried to flinch away from him.
He wanted to jump in and defend her, but she spoke first, claiming that she would be fine now. He doubted it very much, but Belle was very dismissive of him now. He was confused, and he didn’t understand, but he had the feeling that trying something wouldn’t end well. So he just stood, gripping his cane. He gave a nod to Belle. “I hope you recover quickly,” he told her. He gave Gaston a glare then before he made his way out of the room, and out of the hospital.
He didn’t really know where to go. Presumably he had a home, but he didn’t know where it was. He actually wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten here from where he’d appeared at, since they’d been in that horseless carriage. But he needed to wherever he lived now, particularly since his shirt was stained with blood and it felt like people were starting to stare. But then he recognized on the people. Regina.
His anger boiled over as he stalked up to her, forgetting his earlier concern of not causing trouble. “What the hell? You said she’d be comfortable! And now she’s married to an abusive asshole? That’s what you consider comfort?”
Belle smiled at Rumple weakly when he said he hoped she would recover quickly. She would, knowing that she’d be more careful from now on. Belle had different memories now, remembering how Gaston could be with her. So, she simply tried to keep her head down and stay quiet.
Regina looked around, smirking a bit as Rumple came up to her with his disputes to the world she’d created. “You didn’t say to offer her physical comfort. You said to make sure she had any object she desired, which I did. You should see that miserable shop she owns, it’s full of ridiculous things she could never need. And, as for her husband, she would have married him without you in the picture anyway. I simply gave Belle a life without you in it. But, now that I’m completely sure you’re awake, I think you’re forgetting exactly who is in charge here.” She opened up her purse, giving him a quick look at his dagger before moving it away again. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I could just as easily make her life worse than this. You’re lucky I’m even letting her have what I’ve given her. Now, since you’ve confirmed that you are indeed awake, I think there are some things we should talk about before you settle into your new life.” Regina nodded toward the city hall behind her. “Come on in.”
Rumple was seething mad, and all he wanted to do was punch Regina then and there. Especially with how she’d twisted his words to make sure Belle had a miserable life despite his attempts to make her life as good as possible. But she was quick to show him his dagger in her bag, and he knew there was nothing he could do. Even in the Land Without Magic, he had to listen to the owner of his dagger. He had no choice but to obey Regina. So when she nodded toward the building behind her and told him to go in, he had no choice but to do so.
“I hope you realize that me having my memories means I don’t even know where I live in this world,” he told Regina. At the very least maybe she’d tell him that much, since he doubted she wanted him breaking the illusion of her perfect little world. Acting too unusual would make him suspicious, no doubt. “I don’t know if that’s what you wanted, but I doubt it will go unnoticed by everyone else.” He didn’t know what she wanted from him, or why she wanted to talk, but there was a knot in his stomach that told him it wasn’t good. “But what is it you wanted to talk about, Your Majesty? Did you need to be able to gloat about your victory to someone?”
Regina nodded, sitting down at her desk and gesturing to the chairs on the other side of the desk. “Yes, I’ll admit that both of those things are why I wanted to talk to you privately.” She tossed files onto her desk, passing them over toward him. “One is yours, one is Belle’s. You should find everything you need to know in there.” It had his address, giving him all the information from the curse. This was a bit of both, giving him the information and rubbing in his face just how much she’d buried Gaston’s abuses. There were dozens of police reports in there, detailing her abuse and including images. They’d all been pulled, however, so none of them actually showed up on records.
“You see, this is part of my fun. I get to watch you suffer by letting her suffer. You made it rather obvious that making your life a living nightmare wasn’t going to really hurt you…” She smirked, walking around the desk to lean over his shoulder as she started to talk a bit softer. “No, it’s this little maid of yours that really tugs on your heartstrings. You see, here… Here, she’s married to him. And he knows just how you pine after her. He knows you want her. And that only makes him assert his dominance even more. It’s going to be just delicious, especially since I will have a front-row seat. You see, every night, you’ll come to me. And you’ll… How can I put this delicately? …Do my bidding.”
He looked at the paper she tossed over to him once he’d sat down, flipping through them a bit. His eyes widened in horror as he saw images of a hurt Belle. It left him feeling so angry, and so defeated. This was his fault. It was because Regina had discovered he cared for Belle. She’d have a happier life in the curse if it wasn’t for him. True she wouldn’t be happy, but at least she wouldn’t be abused like this.
Regina talked to him as he looked at the pictures, gloating at how perfect her punishment for him was. All he wanted to do was punch her, but he couldn’t harm the owner of his dagger. So he just sat, trying not to shake in anger as she told him just how well she’d planned this out. And then she told him something he hadn’t expected.
He turned in his seat to look at her. He knew deep down what she meant, but he didn’t want to believe it. Regina wouldn’t stoop that low, would she? “I already have to do your bidding,” he told her, eyes searching hers to gauge her reactions. “So just what, exactly, are you going to have me do?” He was scared to hear the answer, but he needed to. He had to know what was going to happen to him every night for the next twenty-eight years so he could prepare as best he could. If anyone really could prepare for what he thought she was saying.
She chuckled a bit, smacking his cheek lightly. “Oh, come on. Surely the great Dark One isn’t that naive. You’re going to pleasure me. Whatever I want, whatever I ask. If it helps you sleep at night, just know that I won’t be nearly as rough when I fuck you as Gaston is with her.” She knew that information wouldn’t soothe him, knowing how much it would sting him that Belle was hurting. It likely would hurt him more than anything Regina planned to do with him and that only made it sweeter.
“And who knows… Maybe, if you do a really good job, I’ll find a reason to detain Gaston for a few nights. Give Belle a little time without her husband’s close guard.” Regina plopped back into the chair, completely pleased with herself. She’d done everything so perfectly, planning out every punishment in order to keep everyone who had wronged her in constant pain. “I mean, honestly, you should consider this a kindness. I very easily could have given her back to the pirate. I imagine that would be even more painful.”
When she patted his cheek, he flinched away despite himself. As she spoke, he got more and more revolted. She wanted to fuck him. And she was going to have Gaston…. Gods. He’d felt anger before, wraith strong enough to make him wish to murder someone, to tear them limb from limb and make them suffer as they begged for death. But never had he felt it stronger than he did now. He wanted to curse her, to yell, to strangle that smug look off her face. But he couldn’t hurt her, and any sign of resistance on his part might only make her try to make things even worse for Belle.
He bit his tongue before he could ask if this was the only way she could get a man to please her. He couldn’t say things like that. Not if he wanted her to make things a bit easier for Belle some nights. “Doing a lesser instead of a greater evil isn’t a kindness,” he said instead, not quite able to bite back everything he was thinking. “But if that’s all for now, I suppose I’ll see you this evening?” he asked, wanting to get out of her presence so he could think, let all this sink in.
She shrugged, waving him off as she sat down in her office chair. His words didn’t really mean anything to her, not anymore. She’d won and that meant that he’d lost any real power he’d had before. “Yes, I suppose you should at least go see your home before diving into everything. I’d try to avoid that maid of yours outside of work, her husband isn’t too fond of you hanging around her.” Regina was openly gloating at this point, knowing that there was nothing that he could do to stop her and that the plan had gone so perfectly for her. She got her revenge against Snow White while also getting to watch everyone who had ever crossed her suffer along with her.
Regina leaned back in the chair, stretching a bit before returning to her paperwork. At least Belle was alive, which had sped up her plans to gloat in Snow’s face. The maid was a surprisingly good chess piece, allowing her to maintain control over the Dark One. She’d expected him to at least argue with her or to offer some disgusted retort against her request, but it seemed her holding the maid over his head made him even more obedient than the dagger itself.
He didn’t say another thing to her, just picking up the files she’d given him and limping out of her office. He wanted to shout. He wanted to cry. He wanted to break everything in sight. He took a deep breath instead. He couldn’t react like that. He couldn’t let her see how this all got to him. Eventually she’d get bored and maybe leave him, and by extension Belle, alone. He could speed up the process by not reacting. He had to. It was the only way.
So he made his way to what was apparently called an apartment. It was worse than his old home as a spinner had been, with people all around. He wouldn’t even have any real privacy. Everyone would hear him if he yelled or even just talked too loudly. He supposed that was the point. And, no surprises here, but the apartment was the top one, making him walk the stairs to get there. Naturally.
He let himself into his apartment with a key he found in his pocket, and was quick to take off the shirt that had Belle’s blood stained on it. Belle. He tried not to think of her, instead going and figuring out how to work the shower worked, trying to scrub off all of Belle’s blood and the disgust at what he was going to do later off of his skin. Only one of the things came off.
Eventually he got out of the shower (which sort of just seemed to work like magic to him) and got himself dressed in clean clothes. He could eat, but the thought turned his stomach, so he decided not to. Instead he read up on his file and Belle’s until it was time to go to Regina’s place.
Gaston forced Belle out of the hospital early, saying that he could take care of her and that he refused to pay for someone to fret over his wife’s health when she was fine. Despite the entire staff warning him it wasn’t a good idea, they let him take her home after he signed plenty of paperwork ensuring they wouldn’t be sued for his stubborn ideas.
However, within the hour, Gaston had made it painfully obvious that he’d had no intention of actually taking care of Belle. He ordered her around as if nothing had happened before running off and leaving her alone. So, Belle did what she had always remembered doing. She went to see her friend. Belle brought over some sandwiches and cake, wincing and holding the wound as she trekked up the stairs to Rumple’s apartment.
She knocked, feeling a bit nervous. After everything that had happened, Belle wasn’t sure how he’d feel about seeing her. Smiling awkwardly as the door opened, Belle held up her basket. “I come bearing gifts… Sandwiches and cake. I know your fridge is still broken and I thought you might be tired of fast food. A-and I really wanted to apologize for today. I didn’t mean to scare you like that, I was just a little confused.” The rest was fast, Belle babbling her way through explanations and apologies nervously. But, suddenly she slowed down and looked at the floor rather than him. Suddenly, she was embarrassed. She knew where he went when he left her alone, most people knew where he went and it wasn’t something innocent like book club. She just hadn’t expected him to leave her mere hours after forcing her out of the hospital. “A-and I…Gaston went out again and I didn’t want to be alone. I thought I could spend some time here. I brought The Evil Dead.” She chuckled, waving the DVD awkwardly at him. “Classic, trash horror movie and junk food party? The usual?”
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Golden Rings Chapter 4: A Light
The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs
Rumple meets his new wife
Read on AO3
Leaning on his cane, Rumpelstiltskin staggered away from Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. Orange electric lights cast dark shadows along the empty streets. The shadows hid him from view. No resident of Storybrooke, Maine noticed any unusual behavior from the man they all knew as Mr. Gold.
A bright yellow car was parked along the curb. When he had walked by, Gold had recognized it as a 1972 Volkswagen Beetle and had priced it at under ten thousand dollars. The license plate was from Massachusetts, and no one in Storybrooke had a vehicle so distinctive and colorful. A stranger had come to town. Gold had gone inside, to collect either the rent or Ruby Lucas. He would inquire about this new arrival.
But then he had heard the name Emma.
Snow White had told Rumpelstiltskin the name she would give to her unborn child. In exchange, he had told her that the child was the only one who could break the Queen’s curse. Emma, an infant princess, the product of True Love, would grow up to be the Savior of them all. On the child’s twenty-eighth birthday, she would be called to them. She would begin the battle that would break the curse, destroy the Evil Queen, and bring back the happy endings that were denied to them in this cruel land without magic.
Tonight, he had seen her.
Overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, Rumpelstiltskin braced himself on Gold’s cane. It had worked. All of it. Centuries of planning and manipulation. Failures and setbacks. Arranging everything and everyone into their proper places so that events led--slowly but surely--to one inevitable conclusion: True Love had triumphed in the old world, and a sorceress who was as full of power as she was of pain had destroyed that world and brought everyone to a place where they would all be loveless and miserable.
Exactly where he wanted to be.
His son was here. Somewhere in this world. Long ago, a Seer had told him that he would find Baelfire again. Now he was closer than he had ever been before. Somehow, even after centuries had passed in the old world, Bae was alive in this one. He could still be fourteen. Or he could be an old man. But he was out there. And Rumpelstiltskin would find him.
Turning the corner to where Gold had parked his Cadillac--five minutes and several lifetimes ago--Rumpelstiltskin stopped in his tracks. Feet were pressed up against the inside of the windshield on the passenger’s side of the car. Bare feet. Small, pale, women’s feet.
“Belle,” he whispered.
His heart didn’t know whether to lighten or sink.
He looked down at the fourth finger of his left hand. Gold had a lifelong habit of wearing a moonstone ring there. To the few brave souls who asked, he would say it was a symbol of his bachelorhood. He neither wanted nor needed to marry. Even after he had married Mrs. Gold, he had kept the moonstone ring--because he still didn’t want or need to shackle himself to her. But he also wore a plain gold band, nearly hidden by the more ostentatious ring. Only Mrs. Gold knew it was there.
And now Rumpelstiltskin knew too. That band was his wedding ring, not Gold’s. Belle had the other half of the matched set. Once, their rings had been the cuffs that had bound her to the Dark One’s will, forced her to obey his every word. By the time he had married Belle, the rings had no magic, but more power than ever before. Even across worlds, the rings connected them to each other. They had always been a sign that he belonged to Belle--as much as she had ever belonged to him. Rumpelstiltskin wanted to be bound to his wife. He could think of no greater delight.
But Mrs. Gold was not Belle.
As he approached the car, he saw more of her. Sitting low in the passenger’s seat, she sprawled her bare legs over the dashboard in a lascivious display. Her mustard-yellow shirtdress had the top several buttons open to expose the pale skin of her chest. The lingerie shop in town didn’t sell a brassiere to match the underpants Gold wanted her to wear today, so she had gone without. The dress mostly covered her breasts, but their shapes were clearly outlined to anyone close enough to see. Her skirt was bunched up around her hips and one hand was tucked inside those lacy, poison-green underpants.
Rumpelstiltskin didn’t breathe.
Gold’s knowledge came to him then. Belle--Mrs. Gold--had been teasing herself since twelve o’clock that afternoon. It was one of the games they liked to play, particularly on rent day. On these days, Gold allowed her free access to her body, head to toe. While he collected other people’s money and misery, she would slowly work herself over. Hour by hour, Mrs. Gold would stroke and caress her legs, her neck, her chest. She would pinch and scratch and rub to her heart’s delight. About an hour before they were due to go home, Gold finally gave her permission to touch the sweet wetness between her legs. He allowed this so long as only teased and never gave in to full satisfaction. And Mrs. Gold knew better than to test her husband.
The end of the game, of course, was when all the rent was collected. That was when Gold finally deigned to touch her himself. With one hand on the steering wheel and one between her thighs, he reclaimed his control over his wife’s pleasure, forcing or denying her completion as it suited him. When he chose to let her come, he rolled down the windows and made her moans last for the entire drive back to his house.
Rumpelstiltskin opened the door and slid into the car. The dome light turned on when he put the key in the ignition. Mrs. Gold lit up just as much.
“Welcome back!” she smiled. She pulled her legs down from the dashboard and slipped her feet into her high-heeled shoes. Her hand remained up her skirt. “No waitress?”
“No.” He said what Gold would say. “Somehow the Lucas women were able to gather up the necessary funds.”
“Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Gold.” She lowered her eyes. “That was my fault.”
He glanced at her, but couldn’t bear to look for long.
Mrs. Gold kept apologizing. “I shouldn’t have visited the diner so early yesterday. If I had been later, they wouldn’t have had enough time to get the money.”
She paused, and by the time Rumpelstiltskin realized that she was waiting for a response, she had started again.
“My only excuse is that Ruby is always off on Saturday nights, and I wanted to make sure she got the message. I--I did do the best I could.”
Gold’s plan had been to coerce Ruby Lucas into offering to spend a night with them in exchange for a reprieve on her grandmother’s rent. It was the sort of scenario that amused him. Not only would he get to use the body of a beautiful young woman--in addition to the one he was already married to--but he would get to make Ruby feel cheap and helpless. Gold cared less about the sex than the selling. If he could get the girl to offer herself once, she would be more likely to try again the next time he arranged for her to be in a bind. Then she would be in his power. He could keep demanding more and more while providing less and less.
But then Emma Swan had entered the story.
Rumpelstiltskin knew Emma was responsible for the Lucases having enough cash to get through the month. Gold’s plan had been foolproof, but Emma was a new variable in the equation. She was the Savior, and she was already making this town a better place.
“Are you angry with me, Mr. Gold?”
Rumpelstiltskin blinked. He looked over at the woman in the seat next to him. The hand between her legs had stopped moving. Her body was perched on the edge of the seat, nervous. Expectant. She thought he was going to punish her.
He couldn’t look at her face.
“No,” he said at last. “I’m not angry with you, Mrs. Gold.”
He allowed the motions of driving a car to busy his hands. He focused on the road to keep himself from looking at his wife. Rumpelstiltskin could use Gold’s knowledge to do things he had never learned. Gold’s hands and feet worked the wheel and the pedals. Gold’s memory knew which streets to take, when to stop at different lights and signs.
It was lucky Rumpelstiltskin had practice with hosting a second consciousness in his head. Becoming the Dark One had also given him knowledge he had never learned, abilities he could not fathom. To a crippled, mud-poor spinner, an automobile was just as much magic as a transportation spell.
Once before, he had crafted a new identity out of disparate parts. He had decided how much of the Dark One he could bear to take on, how much of the spinner he couldn’t separate from. Now he would do the same with Gold.
Everyone else in Storybrooke was fully entrenched in their cursed lives. They had no idea that it was possible to be someone else. And that was for the best. If you weren’t used to it, having two realities in your head at the same time could drive you mad.
His wife was quiet on the drive back to the house. Despite what Rumpelstiltskin had said, she clearly still thought that she had disappointed Gold. If he was displeased with her, she knew better than to make matters worse with chit chat he would find tiresome.
Rumpelstiltskin pulled the car into the small garage that sat separate from the house. Mrs. Gold didn’t move. She didn’t unbuckle her safety belt or adjust her position on the seat. The woman stared at the darkness in front of her, her unmoving hand dutifully clasped between her thighs.
He had to act. He had to do something. What would Gold do, to comfort his wife? How would he assure her that she had done no wrong?
But then the answer came to him: Gold wouldn’t care that his wife had done nothing wrong. He benefited from her thinking that she had, that she was obligated to make it up to him. Gold would unzip his trousers, pull his wife down by her hair, and stuff her sweet mouth with the full length of his cock before he would say a single word to comfort her. The man wouldn’t even offer her a patronizing “Good girl,” until his seed dribbled out from between her lips. And even then, he would force her to walk outside to the front door with it on her face. He wouldn’t let her clean herself until he grew bored with the sight of his “decoration”.
Rumpelstiltskin had no stomach for that sort of thing. Not now.
So he decided to do what Gold would do if he was pleased with his wife. Taking his cane, he got out of the car and walked around the front to her side. Then, he opened Mrs. Gold’s door for her. In this world, that was an old-fashioned, gentlemanly gesture. When Gold was feeling his best, he considered himself an old-fashioned gentleman.
Mrs. Gold seemed to read the action in the way Rumpelstiltskin had intended it. She extended her free hand, and he helped her out of the car. Her smile was broad, and shaky with relief.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Gold. You’re too good to me.”
Rumpelstiltskin clenched his teeth and said nothing. He let go of her hand as soon as she was on her feet.
She walked ahead of him, as Gold had trained her to do. He liked to admire the view. And it gave him a thrill to know that he could see her when she couldn’t see him. Gold liked to imagine that he was stalking his pretty wife. He fancied himself a predator, choosing the right moment to lunge at his unsuspecting prey.
Rumpelstiltskin shook his head.
By the standards of Storybrooke, Gold’s house was a palace. It was three stories high, with balconies and porches and bay windows. The style was named after queens and the house lived up to its royal pedigree.
It was painted pink on the outside, which was unusual in this world. Once, some fool had questioned Gold about that. How could a real man bear to live in a pink house? Gold had quipped that yes, the house was the color of a woman--that was why he liked to go in and out as many times a day as possible.
When Mrs. Gold got to the front door, she stood to the side on the porch and waited. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin puzzled at that. Why didn’t she open the door and go in? This was her home too, wasn’t it? But then the nasty fact came to him: Mrs. Gold didn’t have a key to the house where she lived. Gold had made it very clear to her that this was his house. Whether or not she was allowed inside was entirely based on his pleasure.
But she was smiling, when he came up to the door. She presented herself with her arms behind her back. The posture pushed out her chest and further exposed her open shirtfront and bare skin. A chill wind blew through the autumn night, but Mrs. Gold didn’t flinch. She didn’t make a move to cover herself from his sight.
Rumpelstiltskin unlocked the door and held it open.
She hurried in with an enthusiastic, “Thank you, Mr. Gold!”
He took a deep breath before he crossed the threshold into Gold’s mansion. Even once he was inside, Rumpelstiltskin kept his back to the interior for a moment. He took his time locking the double doors behind him. He pressed a button by the door and an electric light shone down through a crystal chandelier.
When he turned around, Mrs. Gold was kneeling on the wooden floor in front of him.
Her shoes were lined up neatly on a shoe rack. Her yellow dress was hanging from a coat hook on the wall. Her underpants were in her hands, offered up to him. The light green had become dark with the dampness of her pleasure.
Rumpelstiltskin froze. One hand gripped his cane. But his other hand didn’t hesitate to do what Gold would do. He took the underpants and brought them up to his nose.
Belle.
In that moment, it was her. He knew Belle’s scent, her taste. He knew the feeling of her wetness on his fingers. He knew her cunt, hot and slick and ready for him. He knew her breathing, her sighs, all those delectable noises she made as he pleasured her, over and over.
And now she was in front of him. Belle’s body, small and lovely. Belle’s skin, pale as cream and smooth as silk. Belle’s scars, scars he had inflicted in his passion and sewn up with golden thread. Belle’s hair, that wild tangle of brown curls he loved to tame. Belle’s eyes, crystalline blue, wide and pleading, yearning for him. She wanted his touch, his attention, even his cruelty. Whatever he chose to give her, she would take it gladly and hunger for more.
Belle’s pink lips parted. Belle’s voice spoke. But the words that came out of her mouth were things that Belle would never say.
“Well, Mr. Gold, you’ve got the rent money. Would you like to pour it out on the bed and rub my face in it while you fuck me from behind?”
Gold wanted very much to do that, and Rumpelstiltskin felt his body responding. Why not? This woman was as much his wife now as she had ever been. She was Belle! She was beautiful, and she wanted him. He held the evidence of her desire in the palm of his hand. There was nothing to stop him from taking her upstairs and pounding his cock into her until she forgot her own name.
But that was exactly the problem.
Mrs. Gold didn’t know her own name. She wasn’t Belle.
And Rumpelstiltskin was not Gold.
Then and there, he made the decision: He would never sleep with Mrs. Gold. She wanted someone he wasn’t, and he wanted someone she could never be. Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t married Belle for her body. It would be an insult to his true wife to use this woman for his pleasure just because the two shared a physical form.
But he couldn’t let Mrs. Gold know that. Not yet, and preferably not ever. He didn’t know if anyone else in Storybrooke was awake from the curse. He didn’t even know who had survived the journey from one world to the other. He didn’t know how much time it would take before Emma Swan broke the curse.
All Rumpelstiltskin knew was who he was, who his wife was, and how important it was to keep those facts a secret. Some might call it cowardice, but he knew it as wisdom. Just because he had made it to the new world, his work had not finished. He had to wait for the next phase of the plan. He had to lay low, he had to gather information, he had to appear as much like Gold as he could possibly stand.
He could not treat his wife the way Gold did. But nor could he let her know what he was doing. He’d be walking on a blade’s edge until the Savior broke the curse.
For the present, Mrs. Gold stared up at him. Belle’s eyes, rimmed with paint and wide with want. Belle’s shoulders, rising and falling as she breathed. Even Belle’s petite, perfect breasts, her nipples pointed and red from the cold and the teasing she had given them.
Rumpelstiltskin didn’t let a muscle move on his face as he took the underpants in his hand and slid them into the pocket of his suit coat, right next to the bag of rent money. It was the sort of thing Gold would do.
“I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” he announced coldly.
Mrs. Gold’s face fell. “I--I said I was sorry, Mr. Gold.” She lowered her head down to the floor. “I know I should be punished. Please punish me, Mr. Gold. Please hurt me. But please don’t deny me yourself. Not on rent day.”
She turned her head in a motion Rumpelstiltskin knew too well. She was going to kiss his boots. She was going to grovel and beg for his affection, just like he used to order Belle to do. No. Never again!
He tried to dart away, but remembered his ankle--too late. Gold had a cane for a reason. He fell back against the door with a hard thud. Hands pressed against the wood, he just barely stopped himself from sliding down to the ground.
Mrs. Gold rose up on her knees, eyes wide with concern. Her hands were raised up, as if she thought she could catch him. There was a small scar on the same hand as her wedding band. Belle’s scar, Belle’s ring.
Rumpelstiltskin waved her away before he managed to stand. “Just go,” he snarled. The shock of the fall was giving way to embarrassment, but even that was less pressing than the aching throb in his ankle.
After all these years, he had almost forgotten that pain.
“Where should I go?” Mrs. Gold got to her feet. Her voice was timid, but she looked steadily at him. “May I dress first?”
Rumpelstiltskin took a deep breath. Then another. He had taught Belle to calm her fears with breathing. As long as you can breathe, you are alive, sweetheart. As long as you can breathe, you can think. He had to think.
Mrs. Gold had taken him literally when he had told her to go. She was ready to walk out the door and stay away until he summoned her back. She was only mildly concerned that she might be naked in public outside on a late autumn night.
“You’ll stay in the house,” he clarified. He tried to keep his composure, even though he was breathing more heavily than Gold would. “You can do whatever you like, within the usual parameters. I’m going to my study to take care of the accounts. I do not wish to be distrubed. Is that understood?”
She nodded, like an obedient child. “Yes, Mr. Gold.”
“I may be up quite late,” he went on. “You are to be asleep by ten.”
At that, she looked askance. Normally rent day was when Gold kept his wife up late. He let his twin vices of greed and lust feed off of each other, with wrath often adding to the frenzy. It was the highlight of their month. But Mrs. Gold knew better than to question her husband when he gave her an order.
“I’ll be ready for you whenever you want me, Mr. Gold.”
Rumpelstiltskin made himself grin. “Yes, dearie, I know you will.”
Gold regularly called his wife dearie. It was a term he used when he knew he was cheating someone out of something. Rumpelstiltskin had stopped thinking of Belle as dearie within a week of knowing her.
Without another word, Mrs. Gold took her dress off the hook and went upstairs.
****
Even after Rumpelstiltskin turned on a desk lamp, Gold’s study remained dark and gloomy. Mahogany shelves full of thick books lined the walls, adding depth to the black shadows. A burgundy leather armchair and footstool lurked in the far corner. A matching couch stood in front of the fireplace, perpendicular to the large antique desk in front of the window.
Gold had many fond memories of having his wife bent over the arm of the couch while he worked at his desk. Sometimes he would spank her or fuck her. But just as often he would leave her for hours while she silently begged for his touch. Gold always made sure to angle her so that she couldn’t see him, or any other part of the room. She never knew where he was, if he was looking at her or ignoring her. He would keep her hands restrained behind her back and sometimes her ankles tied together so she was all but helpless. Naked and bound, with a ball gag in her mouth, her face pressed against a sheet of plastic to protect the leather and collect her tears and drool.
Shaking his head, Rumpelstiltskin looked away from the couch. He didn’t want to think about Mrs. Gold, about how cruelly her husband had treated her for twenty-eight years. He didn’t want to imagine Belle crying and pleading--or worse, falling silent because she knew better than to complain. Such images were too fresh in his mind. Before Belle had agreed to be his wife, he had made her cry far too many times. Was Gold the way he was because Rumpelstiltskin had been the way he was?
Sinking into the office chair, he rubbed his face. After a moment, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. This was a truly hideous shirt. The pattern of black and white checks clashed with itself and did no favors for any suit that tried to match it. Did Gold think he looked handsome wearing this? Had he walked out of this house this morning confident that this was the best choice of wardrobe he could have made?
What a fool.
Oddly, the thought comforted Rumpelstiltskin. He liked judging Gold’s taste. It was proof that they were not the same. His other self didn’t know how to dress any more than he knew how to treat his wife well. But he knew better.
Rumpelstiltskin was a better man than Gold. That wasn’t saying much, but it was something. Some little spark of hope to cling to.
The shelf nearest the desk was covered by a panel of dark wood on a hinge. Curious, Rumpelstiltskin pulled down gently on the top of the panel. It folded down to reveal a single cut glass tumbler and several bottles of liquor. A bar. A much-needed amenity on a day like today.
He grabbed the first bottle he saw--it had a blue label that lay at an angle across the light blue glass--and poured a drink into the tumbler. The alcohol burned in his mouth like a cleansing fire.
He tried not to drink too quickly. What would his tolerance be in this new world? His body was what it had been as a spinner, just as lame, just as weak. In this world without magic, he had lost most of what made him the Dark One. The scales were gone. He couldn’t see without light anymore. He wouldn’t be able to go weeks without eating or sleeping any time soon. There was much that he would have to get used to again.
And there was his ankle.
Rumpelstiltskin leaned Gold’s cane against the desk. At least that looked less pathetic than the walking stick he’d relied on for fourteen years. Gods, was that really all it had been? He had been a cripple for the whole of Bae’s life--from the day Rumpelstiltskin had heard he would be a father until the moment he felt the old Dark One’s blood on his hands. One instant of cowardice had led to fourteen years of wretchedness, and even centuries later he was still branded by that choice.
Another swallow of liquor. Later, there would be time to wallow in self-pity over all the different ways he had ruined his own life. He knew from experience that such emotions never really went away. Regrets always lay dormant, like sleeping beasts waiting for the sound of a single wrong step in the forest to wake up and ravage the unsuspecting.
Only Belle had ever helped him, with her steadfast stubbornness and gentle strength. She had cut through his years of pain to expose his soul and center. And she had called it beautiful. He could come to her with his weakness, his fear, the most ugly and most evil parts of him, and she would only see how much he needed love.
And she would give him love. Even when he didn’t deserve it. And he loved her. He made her his wife and the mistress of his dagger. Everything he had, everything he was belonged to her. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had to give.
Tears pricked at his eyes. He reached into his jacket pocket for a handkerchief. Instead, his fingers grasped upon Mrs. Gold’s underpants and a bag of money.
He tossed them both on the desk, quick to keep from touching either item. The whole of Gold’s life lay before him on the desk. No tears, no love. Just sex and money.
And power. A drawer in the desk opened up to reveal a leather-bound ledger book. This was where Gold’s power lay. This was the record of practically everyone in Storybrooke, everyone who was in his debt. In red and black ink, Gold had carefully written down all of their names, what they wanted, and how much they paid him every month to have it.
Rumpelstiltskin read over the list. Row upon row of names that meant nothing to him--yet. Marco Beginini. Janine Woolverton. Mary Margaret Blanchard. Ashley Boyd. Mara Trudine. Archibald Hopper. On and on it went. Gold owned their homes or their places of business. He had loaned money to pay for their cars or medical bills. And now he had them in his book. Month by month, he kept tabs on these people’s lives. Diligently, he recorded how much trouble they had in keeping up with the payments, using that as an indicator of whether or not they could be manipulated into offering him more than just cash.
Gold had more than enough cash. Rumpelstiltskin’s fingers set to work counting out the strips of colored paper that served as money in this world. There were coins as well, silver and copper. People in Storybrooke were so desperate to appease their landlord that they emptied their change jars and counted up nickels and pennies to make sure the rent was paid.
The money was grimy and sometimes sticky under his touch. Dirt-poor, Rumpelstiltskin thought. Desperate souls. The sort of people who would pick up a coin off a dirty sidewalk because you never knew if you might need it. Mr. Gold wouldn’t show mercy if you were even one penny short.
Rumpelstiltskin leaned back in the chair. How long would it have been before Gold started demanding fealty from these people? If he hadn’t woken up, how many more months would have passed before Gold started making people grovel in the streets and kiss his shiny black shoes? This world was supposed to have evolved beyond lords and peasants. There was a saying here that all men were created equal. How could anyone believe that, as long as men like Gold ruled over so many others?
Once the amounts were recorded--money counted, names amounts tidily written down--Rumpelstiltskin put the cash to rights. Gold had a system for this, as he did for everything in his life. The bills marked for one hundred dollars went into his safe. If anyone came to him for a loan, he would have the funds ready to disperse. Twenty dollar bills went to the bank, to be deposited in various bank accounts. Gold never deposited enough cash at one time to arouse suspicion--though of course there was nothing for anyone to suspect about his business interests, nothing at all. The coins and small bills went back to his pawn shop to fill out the cash register.
And the fifties went to Mrs. Gold.
As far as Gold was concerned, his wife existed for two reasons: To get fucked and to spend his money. He gave her at least a thousand dollars a week and expected her to show him the receipts of what she bought. Jewelry, clothes, useless gadgets that would get thrown away within a month. The most practical errand she ever ran was going to the grocer’s and buying whatever gourmet food they had to sell.
He liked her to go to as many places around Storybrooke as possible. Her mission was to flaunt his wealth and her sex. As many people as possible should see her, and they should all walk away knowing that she was nothing but a gold-digging fucktoy. That was what Gold wanted people to think about the woman he had married.
Rumpelstiltskin stood up from the desk with a heavy sigh. When was the last time he had been so tired? There was a watch in his trouser pocket. He pulled it out and saw that it was after midnight. Mrs. Gold would surely be asleep by now.
For a man who used a cane, Gold had an agonizing number of stairs in his house. Rumpelstiltskin made the climb with his free hand braced along the wall or the bannister. This house had been built in a time when guests and servants and large families were expected to take up space in a home. Perhaps that was why these dark halls and empty rooms felt more lonely than his castle in the old world ever had.
Belle had made that castle into a home for both of them. Even when she was his thing, she had explored and poked around. Her very presence had changed it, quite without her knowing what she was doing. She had made the place feel wanted, and by wanting it, she had made it her own.
Once she was his wife they had both been more deliberate about making the castle a place for her comfort. It had become a world of books and blankets, full of plush furniture big enough for them to snuggle up together. Heavy curtains had come down, and fires were always lit for warmth. Belle had brought light into his residence, and into his life.
Now, Rumpelstiltskin had to bring his own light into the gloom of Gold’s house. As he made his way to the master suite, he pushed buttons and switches to turn on the electric illumination.
But when he opened the door, a light was already lit for him. Adjoining Gold’s bedroom there was a separate sitting area, with a fireplace and a wardrobe and a set of cloth-upholstered chairs. Between the chairs, an antique table lamp gave off a red glow.
The lampshade was shaped like a crescent, with red beads dangling from the border on either side. The shade itself was covered with gold lace and embroidered silk roses. The light was dim and lurid. It was meant to be more alluring than illuminating. But it was better than the darkness in the hallway.
Mrs. Gold had left it on for when he came to bed. Gold never ordered her to do that. She had thought, she had planned. She wanted to welcome him, even in this small, silent way. She wanted to make him comfortable, in whatever way he allowed her.
“Are you awake?”
He gave the question softly to the darkness in the next room. All he got in answer was the sound of heavy breathing, a steady rhythm he knew so well. For a single, wonderful year, he and Belle had been together in their marriage. For so many nights, they had shared a bed. While she slept, he would stay awake beside her. Listening to her breathing had contented him as much as spinning.
He couldn’t look at the sleeping figure in Gold’s bed. Rumpelstiltskin went to the next room in this suite, the washroom. The light from the table lamp didn’t reach this far, so he shut the door to the bedroom before flipping the switch.
He scrubbed the filthy money off of his hands. He let his body go through a series of nighttime rituals he was too tired to try to understand. Without thought, took off his clothes and dressed in a pair of navy blue silk pajamas.
Gold’s side of the bed was near the wall. He would be able to get up without having to fumble for his cane. Rumpelstiltskin put the damn thing in the corner where it always went--where Gold’s body would know to find it at all hours of the day or night. Then he pulled back the blanket and got into bed with Mrs. Gold.
The movement didn’t wake her. Far too often, Rumpelstiltskin had only come to bed after Belle was already asleep, and he had learned how to keep from disturbing her. But even in sleep, Mrs. Gold was ready to welcome her husband. She scooted towards him without turning around and she wouldn’t stop until one of his legs was wrapped around her body, covering her, claiming her.
Exhausted beyond imagining and seeking any comfort he could find, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t pull away. He curled around her body and buried his face in her hair. He searched for the scent of Belle, underneath all of Mrs. Gold’s perfumes and products. His arm wrapped around her. She was so warm, so lovely. Her skin was smooth under his palms, soft as a rose petal. Half-asleep, Rumpelstiltskin stroked his wife’s arms, her sides. She felt so good to touch. And judging by her soft, slumbering noises, she enjoyed him touching her as well.
He wasn’t aware of how much skin he was touching until he felt the synthetic lace at her hip. Her underpants. Mrs. Gold had gone to bed wearing nothing but a pair of underpants. There was an obvious hole on the side. He remembered her words in the entryway. She had promised that she would be ready for him.
Ready for Gold.
Rumpelstiltskin’s hands balled into fists. He couldn’t bear to touch her anymore, but nor could he bear to let her go. Even as Mrs. Gold, she was too dear to him. In every other way, he was so far from Belle. He couldn’t allow even this scrap of her to slip through his fingers. In the dark of Gold’s bedroom, Rumpelstiltskin clung to his wife and wept.
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“We Never Stopped Being Enemies.”
Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, child (Torren)
Additional Tags: Negotiations, Angst, love and anger, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Work That One Out If You Can
Series: Part 3 of Lover's Leap
Summary: Belle and Rumplestiltskin are suddenly plunged deep into a crisis point in the relationship between two other individuals; in literally a matter of life and death. Belle and Rumple both suffer from strong feelings of deja vu in resolving this couple's issue.
Read on AO3
“We never Stopped Being Enemies.”
Rumplestiltskin had begun to relish these times. The times where he would sit and spin, while Belle pottered here and there, dusting the mantle, offering the occasional snippets of conversation. Oh, sometimes he pretended to be irritated at her chattering, telling her she was disturbing his spinning, but the last few times Belle hadn’t fallen for it one little bit, and surprisingly, that suited him just fine.
“…And then I wondered, why it is you never have guests? I know you have friends, at least there’s one person I’ve seen with free access to the castle?”
“Jefferson?” he guessed.
“Yes. Why don’t you invite him. It’s Harvest soon and…” she paused in her dusting to turn and face him. “It would be… nice to have—”
She cut off mid sentence, frozen mid wave of her feather duster so abruptly that as he stood up from the wheel, Rumplestiltskin looked towards the doors, expecting to find Regina stalking toward him. There was no one. He looked toward the mantle, which she had been dusting to see if there were anything on there that could have caused this. Still nothing, and they had long since moved the amber goblet that seemed to trigger the Fairy’s curse to the cabinet, so there would be no accidental contacts to send them careening off into some other reality.
It had already happened too often as it were.
“Belle?” He frowned, and moved with growing urgency toward her. “Belle…!”
He waved a hand in front of her face, with no effect. So, still suspecting foul play, foul magic, he snapped his fingers, sending the power of a neutralizing spell her way. She wavered once, and would have dropped to the ground like a stone had he not been so vigilant, and caught her up in his arms.
As he carried her toward the chaise longue he felt the first creeping tingle of magic not his own…
**
She had been carrying a feather duster, but now she held a baby, cradled tightly against her chest. He was wrapped in a blanket and seemed entirely undisturbed by the jostling caused by her hurried progress along the corridor that stretched ahead of her. It was unlike any hallway she had ever seen, and if she didn’t know better, she would have said the walls were made of some kind of metal.
Her heart started racing as the emotion of the woman she was caught up with her and subsumed her, their melding more complete by the second. She was being pursued, and she knew without a doubt that she couldn’t afford to be caught.
Desperately, one by one, she began to press a hand to the panels of the wall, and it took her just a moment to understand that she was looking for one that would open. She glanced behind her as she heard footsteps coming closer. If she couldn’t find it…
Just when she believed she would not, the panel beside her gave a quiet click and swung out just a little - just enough. She reached in and pulled down the short ladder that would help her to climb inside, and once she was, she carefully set the baby down beside her so that she would have both hands with which to pull up the ladder, and close the panel.
She held her breath, fearing that if she even breathed too loudly, her pursuer would hear her, find her. Even as she did, her child began to fuss, and she picked him up and cradled him close once again, hushing him gently and trying not to let her fear get the better of both of them.
**
The castle dissolved into a blue-lit room filled with unfamiliar surfaces; tables that held strange picture frames that were connected to a horizontal rectangle filled with small square buttons, each with a letter or a figure displayed on them. These stood next to another surface filled with larger, triangular buttons… and for a moment nothing made sense to him.
The dislocation was dizzying, and in an attempt to steady himself, Rumplestiltskin looked down at himself, at his hands. Those, at least were strangely familiar. Not exactly as his scaled hands with sharpened nails, but not the color of human flesh either. The sight began to calm him and he stalked over to the full length glass window that looked down on the room below, where a huge circle stood on a raised platform.
Gate
The word came to him out of nowhere as the meld began to take a better hold, as awareness of who and what he was came to him. He looked at his reflection in the window, at the brown leather he wore, form fitting and functional; at his halfway human appearance, barely a mark left on his cheeks where there should have been slits beneath the butterfly shape of his eye sockets. Even those were gone, and his hair was short cropped and held more brown than the proud white of his kin. He was not as he had been created, but he had done this; manipulated his appearance to be more pleasing to her. His one. His only. His Queen.
He was here for her, and for the child he had been instrumental in creating. He would have his way.
He returned to the console and the computers, everything more familiar to him as the seconds and minutes ticked past. He saw movement behind him, reflected in the glass, and he turned to face the creatures - soldiers of his own creation, hybrids between his kind and the humans he had taken as prisoners - they were empty handed, and his temper mounted.
“Where is she?” he demanded, and his voice held a strange, tonal harmony all of it’s own.
“We don’t know,” one of them said. “We searched everywhere.”
“Are you telling me she just disappeared?” It was a phrase Rumplestiltskin himself might have used, but the delivery of who he was now was filled with simmering anger, and not the flamboyant sarcasm with which he would have imbued the words.
“I'm saying that we searched every room and corridor within the stun field. We couldn't find her anywhere.” Even though the words suggested otherwise, the tone was one of utter respect and obedience, as he would expect.
Darker, dearie, he thought of his new self. Much darker.
Despite the respect he was shown, his anger raced toward a peak.
“She knows this city well. She's hiding somewhere.” Another feeling, familiar to Rumplestiltskin welled inside. The need to vent, to destroy, and he picked up the laptop from the desk beside him and hurled it across the control room to watch it shatter against the wall. “Toying with me!” he snarled.
His soldiers shifted nervously, and in his tone, as one of them spoke, Rumplestiltskin heard fear. “We’ll keep looking.”
“No.” He barked. “I’ll handle this.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Flush her out,” he announced, and moved to the other console, rapidly entering a sequence on the controls there. After barely a moment, an alarm began to sound.
**
Belle started as first an urgent tones began to sound, and then his voice… the one two whom she was drawn even though she knew that she should not, came over the city’s comms. Myriad thoughts flashed through her mind. He had always treated her with a dichotomy of respect and admiration, and unyielding possessiveness. She should despise him, but she could not. If she were honest, perhaps, the opposite was true. It was a familiar feeling to her, as much as it was alien to the woman she was here.
She started again as he called her name, his voice reaching her over the city’s comms.
”I know you can hear me. That alarm – if you're not aware – is the self destruct device. I've armed it; set it for ten minutes.”
She swallowed, holding her baby closer. How could he do this? Why would he if she and the child were who he wanted?
“That is the amount of time you have to consider the offer I'm about to make you.”
A deal? He was offering her a deal.
“Rumple?” she whispered softly against her baby’s downy hair. Was this what they were to correct? Was the pull this woman felt toward that man, that beast the same as her own… true love?
”If you will surrender yourself and your child to me, I'll disarm the device, sparing the lives of everyone on this base. If not, you, your baby and everyone else will die.”
Belle took a breath as a realization his her, hard, twisting her insides into a knot. The conditions that Rumplestiltskin had set upon her for her part in failing to protect him from the fairy curse - that she would share it - if that were true then…
“It isn’t his to correct the wrong here… it’s mine.” She murmured, but could she be that brave, and was she reading the situation right?
It didn’t matter. Lives were at stake. Her child’s, her people, her friends.
Slowly, carefully, she climbed out of the space behind the panel, holding her son tightly as she did.
**
“We don’t have much time,” Rumplestiltskin blinked, and turned to frown at his underling. He had almost forgotten he was there. “We need to leave this place.”
He shook his head and turned back as if he could see the one he needed, the one he desired as he spoke aloud again.
“Time is short,” he said, calling her by name again. Hoping to appeal to the natural leader in her; the one that would move the heavens to keep those she cared for safe. “I don't understand – I would think the choice is an easy one.”
Rumplestiltskin began to feel a sense of familiarity in the feeling behind the words he spoke as this… man. Was this their task then? To reunite these two?
“If nothing else, consider your child. By remaining in hiding, you are sentencing him to die. What kind of mother would do such a thing?”
“Turn off the self destruct system.” The voice behind him was steady in its sense of command, in spite of the trepidation in it. He spun to face her, wary of her presence, even now. He saw no sense of recognition in her, and did not recognize Belle in this stranger until…
“My people… my friends… they will all live?”
“You have my word,” he answered, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. It was Belle, he was certain of it. The words so familiar to him that the sense of deja vu was almost overwhelming.
She nodded once, and took a step closer to him, and he sensed it as an act of good faith from her as she said, “Turn off the self destruct and I will go…”
**
Belle’s eyelids fluttered and she took a deep breath, feeling the warm fire nearby, the softness of the chaise on which she lay, and hearing the crackle of wood, burning nearby. She also felt a heavy weight resting across her waist.
She looked down, her heart filling with a sudden pang of softness as she saw Rumplestiltskin resting where he must have fallen, his arm and his head lay across his lap. It was turned her way
“I will go, with you, forever,” she finished as a whisper, lifting a hand to run her fingers through Rumplestiltskin’s hair before he could awaken.
#rumbelle#negotiations#angst#au#au-gust#canon compliant#canon divergence#work this one out if you can#brownie points
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True Love’s Kiss
Part 1
It has half a day since Rumpelstiltskin sent Belle to town to fetch him straw. He knows in his heart he will never see her again, but he sits frozen gazing outside a castle window. Holding his breath for who knows how long unable to spin or work on the curse to help him find his son. For in this moment he does not wish to go to any other worlds until Belle returns to him. He found his whole body was flushed with emotions that he thought were lost on him. He has been the Dark One for so long he has forgotten the passions a mortal man has.
Then out at the end of the road as far as his eyes could see he started to see the outline of a maiden. He thought it had to be Belle. No other would dare to stroll happily unto the Dark One’s Castle. But he used his magic to get a better look and it was her…his Belle, his love. Looking oddly proud of herself, smirking and giggling like she held a secret to her own. Rumple must have been looking upon her for a long time because she was about to open the castle door. He ran over to his spinning wheel trying to calm his heart and look like he hadn’t missed his maid, his prisoner.
“Oh good, you are back…I needed more straw.” Belle smiled her kind smile at him, the one that warmed even the Dark One’s heart. “You missed me, don’t even try to say you didn’t”. “Well I noticed that I had to my own tea and use magic to keep the fire burning…” with those words Belles smile faded and Rumple quickly backtracked…”so why yes I missed you being in my castle.” Her smile quickly returned but not as big.
I know I love him but does he love me, is that women right that just by sending me to town, by letting me go it proved that this beast has a heart and that heart has love for me? Part of her believed it with every cell of her body but her mind was screaming at her that she shouldn’t’ of comeback that she was a fool to think she loved her.
“Belle, why did you come back?”
“Because I love you Rumple, because I had to come back. After…well…after I learned something.” Belle went over and sat between him and his wheel, the space that normally no other person inhabits except him. He backed away slightly just from the shock. The words she said to him not even sinking in yet. She places her warm hand on his lap…so close to…him…he quietly gasps and next thing he knows Belles lips are on his and all of him feels like dissolving into nothing. He opens his eyes and smiles, wondering what is happening. He pulls away when he starts to feel the magic fading from him like water going down the drain. The eerie feeling making him nausea and pained.
He snaps back and Belle pulls him “don’t stop its working!!”
“No Belle you don’t know what you are doing” …he roughly throws her back then stands and walks away.
“Why would you do that…why would you pull away from my love! From true loves kiss!” Belle screamed at him with the shrill voice of a scorned woman.
Then the Darkness in him starts to boil over, hearing in the most sinister voice inside him. Love you? You think anyone could love YOU! no way you are the Dark One, you have no room for love.
“Shut up Belle! And get out” screamed rumple he started shoving her towards the door with all his beastly strength. She wouldn’t move. She was hysterical and clawing at him, literally ripping his shirt trying to stay on her feet. Ultimately Rumple threw her in the dungeon aka her old room and locked the door. Belle screamed for a what felt like an eternity and then sobbed the rest of the night. Despite her screaming and sobbing the words “Rumple I really do love you” he shut her in their all night. Then he heard her call him almost like a siren a few times in the darkness of the night. He swore he must have been hearing things.
While he paced and spun, fighting his inner battle of light and dark. It was so hard for him not to go to her, get on his knees and beg her forgiveness and kiss her hoping to break the curse still. But he knew moving forward her love for him wasn’t the same. It was tainted by his darkness and even though it might be true love in the meanings of the words it would never be that magical true loves kiss. He would always be a “beast” to Belle now. She surely doesn’t want him as he is. And he has to many magical enemies to be mortal anyway. They would have to live a life running away from death. There is only way to fix this…let her go, and if she doesn’t go force her to leave any means necessary. It is best for her even if she can’t see it. “I will leave her in the cold dungeon all night she will be very mad at me by morning and will glad to leave.”
Sunlight came and not soon enough. Rumplestilskin went and unlocked the door to find belle laying on the bed sleeping…but naked. He did not expect this especially since the room was frigid. Belles lips were trembling…he snapped his fingers and two blankets appeared on top of her. Belle awoken to a cold feeling that was actually painful all the way down to her bones.
“What were you doing foolish girl!? You could of died of the cold in here!”
“I thought you were going to come to me sooner and be angry. I heard some of the women in fathers castle speak of presenting their bodies to their husbands to make them not mad at them. To avoid…well…beatings…so I thought I would try and see if it would make you not angry with me anymore…so I could love you…”
Innocent Belle never was even seen naked by Gaston, and she was going to show herself to him…a beast? He was so confused and no matter what her motive, he felt so unworthy. All his wanting to be cruel and cast her away is disappearing as he looks upon her beautiful face and her newly flushed cheeks. He notices that his cock all but ripping the seam of his tight leather pants. Which he just realized is why Belle’s cheeks are flushed. He drops his hands…”get dressed Belle, you are banished from my castle. Don’t speak I have made up my mind. This is just you wanting to be the hero and kill the beast by breaking the curse. You don’t love me.”
“How dare you tell me who I love” shouted belle almost shocking herself with her tone. Forceful but you could hear her fighting back tears. “I have been in this castle quietly waiting for you to kiss me or love me. To show me some affection. I have seen you look at me, and I see you how your body reacts to me as it is now. I might be naïve but I know enough to know that you liked what you saw…and what you are seeing now.
“ I do Belle I do but I am a beast as you call me, I am cursed and I have too many enemies to let go of this power…this magic…me as a mortal man would be death sentence to us both! And the spell can no longer be broken. So the mortal man you hoped for, the man without the darkness can no longer exist ever in any realm. You can’t possibly still want me.”
Belle looked at this man…this beast…and she saw pain, tenderness, and love. Rumple has never even spoken to her this much before let alone express emotions. She realizes in an instant he loves her too. He genuinely loves her. With a breath she realizes she is going to have to brave for both of them. She is going to have to rescue him. This idea of rescuing the Dark One brough a smirk and a chuckle to her.
“What are you laughing at…what is funny I demand to know what you are laughing at!” “Nothing you silly beast….just that you tell me that you are only a monster yet you speak of emotions and danger that lurks in the dark for you with pain in your eyes.”
Belle moves forward to him and he freezes in place about to snap his fingers and transport bell to her village…clothed of course…But belle grasps his hands before he can do the task. “See I know you rumple you are not going to get away from me that easy. He then notices that when Belle reached up for his hands her blankets fell off her…her skin is perfect. A beautiful porcelain white just like her chipped teacup he cherished. It is in this moment that Rumple knew there was no resisting her…
“Dearie, if you let me have use of my hands they will be of good use to you.”
“Do you promise not to banish me from the castle?”
I promise…
“Okay Rumpelstiltskin, I trust you.” Belle slowly released his hands and she was trembling like a leaf when he pulled her into his arms.
And like that Rumple knew his whole life is about to change and he was fearful but his love and desire for Belle and the nagging pain from his ever tightening leather pants won over any fear he might have.
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"Can You Deny Us the Triumph in Store?" (Rumbelle) (1/?)
Summary: The lifeblood of Belle’s very existence is the opera. Since her mother introduced it to her at five years old, she’s loved it with all her heart. Now, as a grown woman with dreams of writing the Paris Opera House’s next great success and a magnum opus nearing its completion, she’ll need to contend with obstacles almost more dramatic than the work of fiction she pens. Things take a turn when two men take an interest in her work, and suddenly, Belle finds herself on a journey of trust, forgiveness, and perhaps even love.
AO3 Fanfiction.net
A/N: Hi! This is my first ever Rumbelle fic -- happy to be here with all you lovely folks!
I started this idea from the jumping off point of “Could a Rumbelle ‘Phantom of the Opera’ AU work in a scenario where Rumple was Raoul?” As a longtime Phantom of the Opera fan (All versions), I feel like over the years, I’ve grown to not only like, but really respect and admire the Christine/Raoul pairing and that’s something I wanted to play around with here. And what I came up with ended up feeling pretty true to Rumple and Belle’s characters as well as a fun mix of OUAT, Beauty and the Beast, and of course, The Phantom of the Opera, all alongside a different, more shorthand-based writing style that I’m really excited to try out here. I hope you feel the same way about it too!
Tagging @mrs-stiltskin! If you want to be tagged in future installments as well, please let me know!
()()()()()()()()()()
CHAPTER ONE: MELODIE DE PARIS
The year 1890 exists within an age of discoveries, an epoch that sheds light on all manners of beauty. From walks of human life across the world’s surface, possibilities of exactly what people can create with their hands, minds, and hearts are explored in a way they’ve never been before. And of all the lands that this age touches, few places capture the modern ideals of this time better than the city of lights. Paris is experiencing a renaissance of art, music, vibrancy, and knowledge, and the epitome of the city’s progress and lust for life and love is the Paris Opera House. What lays inside the doors of this majestic theatre is a bustling community in itself with all manner of singers, dancers, designers of every kind, stagehands, business people, and others who rush across halls, stages, and balconies as they go about living their lives.
It is in this palace of music -- where the creative people of Paris come to make magic a reality -- a woman, underestimated in all that she does, but exceptional in what she brings life into spends her days.
Her name is Belle Ébréché.
Belle Ébréché, a woman of twenty-three years, is a dancer at the Paris Opera House. For hours upon hours every day, whether at the behest of an audience or not, she and ten other girls work their feet to the bone as they further strive to perfect their craft. However, her dream is not fulfilled -- not completely in any event. While talented on her feet, definitely enough to earn her keep in the ballet, her ambitions don’t lie with her toes to the floor of a stage. Instead, they reside with a quill that’s as much a part of her body as her lungs to a sheet of parchment...for you see, Belle wishes to write an opera.
Belle’s love of the opera began relatively early, though not through her eventual chosen avenue of expression itself at first. No, the seeds of her love of stories and storytelling were originally planted by her mother, Colette. Night after night starting from her first evening wails, Belle was sent off to the realm of dreams with passages from books that soothed and lulled her to sleep just as well as the very cradle that held her form. And as she grew, Belle’s love of books created an equal love for the imaginations of men and women and their many artistic achievements. Finally, when she was five, as if the heavens themselves arranged it to forever cement that love, Belle was introduced to something that would forever change her life -- The Opera.
While Belle had always loved stories, operas were stories taken to a new level. They were windows to lives she could never dream of that not only painted vivid visions in her mind of stories, characters, and lines, but allowed those visions to exist in a way even her imagination couldn’t accomplish. As Belle took in all the opera had to offer, she was entranced by the sets that took her to foreign lands, the sweeping tales of romance, history, and adventure, and the music that made her heart swell and unlock emotions never before known to her. By the time her first opera, “Béatrice et Bénédict” was through, Belle knew she wanted nothing more in life than to be a part of the experience that opened her world to new possibilities.
However, such happiness, as happiness tends to be, was too good to last. After two years of bi-annual trips to the opera, following the death of the very source of that happiness, they stopped. Collette’s passing left Belle crushed and while grief overtook most of her headspace, her determination to become part of the opera was still as present as ever. Now, it was her deepest wish -- no, more than that. Now, it was her destiny, one Belle knew her mother would want for her.
But Belle found herself quite alone in that mindset.
As her convictions and desires for a life in the opera grew ever stronger, her father, Maurice’s patience for her passions only weakened. In truth, complications between Maurice and Belle weren’t uncommon even when Colette was still alive, but with a mother and a wife taken from them, a crucial part of their bond went with her.
And part of that waning bond was a disregard for Belle’s passion for the arts, which he deemed as ‘flights of fantasy.’ Maurice was never won over by operas to begin with, but grief turned his indifference into a means to mock his daughter. For years, that misery is how they went about their days, and while Maurice had fully succumbed to feelings of bitterness, Belle fought them off in the name of achieving her life’s purpose.
But even the strongest of resolves could grow weary under the constant duress of those without faith in them. Eventually, after years of enduring such constant belittling, Belle understood that her only hope for peace and a true chance at following her dream was to leave home. So, with only some scant essentials and a few mementos of her mother, Belle took off for where she knew her calling would be: The Paris Opera House.
The night Belle arrived at the Opera House was cold and damp, the product of a miserable storm. With wet clothes and shoes that plopped against the charcoal-colored rain, she stepped towards the building. It was only than a feeling of unease set in Belle’s heart. Apart from a love of opera, she had no experience in performance -- just a few pages of ideas for operas.
What would The Paris Opera House of all places want with her?
Had she made a mistake running from home?
Struck by fear, Belle drifted towards a curb by the eastern side of the building, huddling her shoulders close to her for the first time since the rain fell, but for reasons she knew had nothing to do with the trickling water. She sat down on the curb and looked ahead at the dream that was now so close to her, but quite possibly impossible to ask for.
As Belle started shaking in fear, a door opened, glowing Belle and the curb she sat on with a hue of oak. And from out of that door stepped a girl, no older than Belle, holding a bag of what looked to be garbage as she looked towards a disposal bin not far from where Belle sat. The girl wore a rose-colored dress and upon seeing Belle, concern overtook her features.
She came over to Belle, and offered her hand, introducing herself as Ruby. With a gentleness Belle hadn’t truly felt since she last saw her mother, Ruby asked what she was doing in the rain. Upon hearing Belle’s story, Ruby took Belle’s shoulder into her hand and invited her inside The Opera House, saying that she would take care of her.
And take care of her is exactly what Ruby did.
Ruby was a young dancer-in-training, and her grandmother Madame Lucas, a dance instructor. And she just happened to know of an opening that needed filling for another new dancer.
It was late at night when Belle met Madame Lucas. While originally grouchy at the prospect of a spontaneous visitor, Madame Lucas quickly came around upon seeing Belle’s fragile and wet form, welcoming her into the room where the ballet dancers slept. The following morning, after Belle had the chance to explain what brought her to the Paris Opera House, Madame Lucas invited her to train alongside Ruby and the other dancers. There, she would live, train, and work under her care. Madame Lucas warned Belle that it would be hard work, but it seemed that even her attempts to appear tough on Belle seemed to only be a facade, she seemed to immediately know that Belle would be up to the challenge.
And Belle, to this day, makes her living at The Paris Opera House, practicing and performing alongside Ruby and some of Paris’ finest dancers, a population that now includes them. Belle and the others work Madame Lucas’ regimen as if it were second nature. And through years upon years spent perfecting her craft and furthering her studies, she’s grown far more experienced in the ways of The Opera House. She now knows what it’s like to work from dawn to dusk and retire for the evening with barely the ability to speak. She now knows what it’s like to repeat the same moves dozens upon dozens of times and still see Madame Lucas unsatisfied. She now knows what it’s like to wait in anticipation of the latest reviews of the newest operas, understanding that her very way of life could be on the line should things go sour.
But Belle still loves all things having to do with the opera. In fact, she loves it even more than she did when she first heard those opening orchestral notes all those years ago.
Now though, her dream is more focused. She’s not about to give up her work in the ballet so soon, but Belle knows her destiny is to not dance in operas, but to pen them.
She’s the only one who thinks so either. Ruby and Madame Lucas know she’s talented, too. Whether intentional or not, Belle’s made it rather easy for them to follow her work. They hear her comment on the stories and compositions of the operas they perform with the intelligence of Paris’ most talented writers. It’s impossible for either of them to not notice Belle stay up well past curfew most every night scribbling and tossing away pages of filled sheets of music and scripts, and ones that are already pretty good at that. The way Belle hums invisible notes only to excuse herself from dinner and rush to write them down in one of her notebooks is predictable to the point of mundanity.
And she’s only getting better.
Lately, fewer and fewer pieces of paper are being thrown away. Complete lyrics and melodies are being muttered, hummed, and sung under Belle’s breath. Story threads are finally starting to come together and make sense. One night, Madame Lucas sneaks a peek at the notebook Belle’s been frequenting the most lately as an excited Ruby -- who may or may not have told her where it was -- waits just outside for details.
Yes, Belle’s shaping up to be quite the talented composer -- a stand out creator of her era.
However, nothing’s that simple.
No matter the year nor all the undiscovered wonders of this world that entice those who yearn for them, the brilliant ideas of women are fought every step of the way for their day in the sun, if they’re even listened to at all. Belle’s works, unfortunately, are no exception. She’s regularly brushed off by the managers every time she requests that they so much as look at or listen to one of her songs.
But fuel is only added to the fires of Belle’s difficulties as she’s forced to not only compete for the management’s attention with the operatic composers of the past who haunt her like ghosts with their established renown, but with a modern composer who haunts her present. For all she knows -- nor cares -- he knows not of her existence, but she’s more than familiar of his. His operas have been performed four times in as many years. He oversees each and every one of them, combing over details and punishing anyone he finds to be subpar and vulnerable, like a hawk waiting to snatch up his prey. Those who toil to meet his almost impossible demands consider him a manager in his own right, one to be avoided and feared beyond either of the two actual yielders of the title. But for as utterly charmless as he is to all beneath him, nothing is done to hinder his merciless mission for perfection at any cost. This is because in addition to being the Opera House’s rising star, he’s also its most generous patron.
So despite Belle’s talents with a quill, through no fault of her own, this game of patriarchal superiority and wealth leaves her outmatched to the point of making her naught but an obscurity in the grander scope of the Opera House.
After all, just how can she compete with the likes of Bertrand, the Vicomte de Friper?
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Bertrand de Friper isn’t a people person.
His personality is often deemed as “testy” at best, his appearance is rather unconventional, and his ancestry leaves a lot to be desired.
It’s a multi-layered problem.
That’s not to say that there exist no advantages to being him. After all, what does a Vicomte have if not money, and all the power, influence, and sometimes freedom that money can grant?
An Opera House isn’t an easy place to spend one’s days when they’re not a people person. However, when one’s chosen to dedicate their life to creating operas, where else could they go?
Composing operas does something for Bertrand that nothing else finds itself able to do -- it gives him something that’s all his own. It gives him something clean of his family’s influence — apart from the money used to finance it — and a chance at a legacy that might not be as tarnished as it would be without it.
Opera speaks to Bertrand -- its blending of performances, sets, design, and musical numbers allows room for complexity. His works aim for that same complexity, as it’s a complexity he sees in himself, and because of that, he acts as if it’s a mirror of the very person he wishes he could be. And that inspires his every flick of the quill.
He’s more hands on than most other composers. Bertrand knows that to be true. In his own defense though, most other composers are no longer around to see their work come to life.
So why should he waste his time as nothing more than a silent creator when he can do so much more to make them as majestic as he knows they could be? He’s written and paid for these operas and damnit, he’s going to make sure his vision sees the light of day in the exact way he wants it to! And if that means he’s gonna sit in on every rehearsal and talk the managers’ ears off and nitpick the lighting whenever he finds the slightest flaw, then he’ll do it with all the gusto of a late December’s snowstorm. And he’ll fire anyone who refuses to meet his demands without the backbone to tell him why they can’t be so.
But understandably, it also does no good for Bertrand because that work is the closest thing he’s got to any manner of a real social life, and that cruelty does little to better himself as something even resembling a people person. And his family is of little help in breeding any genetic social charisma, whether through genetics or renown. His parents are rather cutthroat and it’s given them a bit of a reputation that’s followed Bertrand socially.
Things have never been easy with his family. They’re rich and have a status of nobility, but that status has come from means that were...less than admirable. There are rumors -- some true, some not -- of deals made under the table with much of the city’s criminal underbelly, raises in savings at their bank that line up just too closely with news of a robbery at a bank not two miles down the road, and price gouging at legal firms that the patriarch of the Friper family just happens to own. But money is money. Their titles were granted more out of obligation because of their wealth than any interest in making them part of high society, and it shows to this day. They’re often shunned, but never directly -- kind of in that indirect way that the upper class tend to do. They’ll always be invited to a party, but tables had a way of never having enough space for one of them and invites for other gathering to elude their grasps.
However, Bertrand’s parents liked to show that right back in the most passive aggressive and manipulative ways.
...And maybe he did too.
Okay, he definitely did.
And that’s why, for all his success in business and art, Bertrand de Friper is not a people person.
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The Paris Opera House is often bustling, but never has it been as bustling than the week following the managers’ abruptly announced retirement.
What kind of long-standing managers only give a week’s notice before retiring?
Well, they’ve never been the greatest communicators -- that’s what Belle’s grasped at least over her tenure here -- and so now, thanks to their rash decision, the entire Opera House drops everything and scrambles to arrange some sort of send off for them. Madame Lucas has them up early every day practicing to put on a dance from one of their favorite operas. The breaks aren’t plentiful and by the end of the day, Belle has to find the strength to eat dinner before she falls asleep. Outside of their space, Belle can hear stringing and tuning of instruments most everywhere she goes and stagehands arguing with each other and gossiping about who's taking over. It’s all quite hectic.
Everyone’s relieved when the change is finally made and the new managers take up their posts. Those not forced by their positions to socialize with the new management take off for desperately needed breaks and those unfortunate enough to need look like they’re in need of a nap as they push themselves towards their new bosses.
The new managers seem okay. Belle’s not overly optimistic that this management team will be any more receptive to her ideas than the old ones were, but she’ll take a gamble on that in due time. For now, though, it seems like everyone and their mother who holds a higher position than a dancer, a chorus girl, or a stagehand wants to talk to them, so Belle’s content waiting.
As a matter of fact, Belle’s more than content waiting. In all the business of the past week, she’s had to neglect her opera. But now, there’s time to work on it, and Belle’s not about to waste even a second of her newly recovered free time.
Melodies swim through her mind like guppies in a school. Things have been coming together on one of her final uncompleted pieces so nicely. She almost can’t stand how proud she is of her own work.
In her excitement, Belle allows a few bars to escape her lips and movements leave her feet as she casually makes her way back to her room.
But all the while as she lightly sings and moves through her trip, Belle, for the briefest of moments, finds herself unaware of the fact that she’s not the only member of her impromptu performance’s audience.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Bertrand’s not sure what to make of the new managers. They don’t seem too different than the old ones, but appearances are nothing but deceiving -- though if he’s to believe the opinions of most everyone he’s ever known, he’d likely believe that to be a lie.
He tries not to believe it himself.
Not one to give himself an air of brown nosing, Bertrand watches the new managers’ introductions from afar. While in truth, he’d wanted to wait a few days to further acquaint himself with his latest opera’s opening night on the horizon and nagging at him with the force of the sunlight on a hot summer’s day, Betrand knows he doesn’t have the luxury of delaying his introductions. So as soon as the company at large is dismissed for the day, Bertrand moves past stagehands, chorus girls, and ballet dancers alike as he sets out towards his new coworkers. At the very least, he wishes to find a later time when they can talk further, but he imagines that his status as The Opera House’s biggest patron will immediately garner himself the lion’s share of their attention.
It’s by no means a fun way to spend an afternoon, but Bertrand focuses on how after today, he’ll be able to work to further perfect his opera once more.
And that is what’s going to get him through the day.
As Bertrand passes through the groups of gossiping men and women, something catches his ear -- something that makes him stop dead in his tracks. It’s a lone voice, within yet at the same time somehow distant from the crowd of dancers. Bertrand’s hearing is strong. It has to be for him to do his job as well as he does, but right now, the talent is being used to hone in on strings of notes and lyrics.
The melody he hears from that voice...Bertrand’s utterly captivated by it.
It’s exciting.
It’s memorable.
But most of all, it’s different from everything he’s ever heard before.
Bertrand knows how rare compliments like that are. While he’s personally been no stranger to them, he’s well aware that so few composers in this age of discoveries have but only longed for words even close to them to be directed their way.
And Bertrand himself -- by his own admission -- is a man of few compliments to spare on a good day.
So for him to describe naught but a scant number of bars and lines in such a way, they are bars and lines that are truly something to behold.
He needs to know where the voice that produces such notes is yesterday.
Bertrand follows his ears like a leaf follows an autumn breeze’s path until he’s able to latch onto one woman. Her back is turned, but the fact that it’s her voice making such music is unmistakable by the way her feet move in time with her bursts of singing.
There’s no hesitation in Bertrand -- not an oddity, but also not a regularity by any means -- as he taps on the woman’s shoulder. She practically jumps in her spot, surprised, before turning around to face him.
If Bertrand is to describe his initial impression of the woman who stands before him during those first few seconds before they’ve exchanged a single word, it would be ‘soft.’ She seems surprised, but a residual happiness from her music is as clear as day on her face, creating a soft sense of contentment all around her. Soft dark brown curls cascade just below her soft shoulders deprived of nearly all manner of tension. A dress of a soft pink shade -- one that matches those worn by the other women of the ballet -- covers her form, giving her something of a heavenly air about her. Even as her sky-shaded eyes turn curious and almost dark whilst she takes him in, there’s still an unexplained softness to them.
And just like that, before he’s even talked to this woman, Bertrand de Friper’s absolutely smitten with her.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()
If there’s anything that can absolutely ruin Belle’s day, it’s a reminder that Bertrand de Friper exists.
That said, seeing him appear before her, smiling of all things...is strange.
Belle’s been lucky to have never had direct contact with him thus far in her opera career. Most of his critiques towards the ballet have been made through Madame Lucas. Belle, Ruby, and the rest of the ballet have seen many a heated debate between them over choreography, schedules, and positions. Yes, Madame Lucas may answer to him on some level, but he does not by any means control her and she’s not at all afraid to stand up for herself. Belle admires that.
Bertrand de Friper, however, is someone that she does not admire.
“Can I help you, Monsieur le Vicomte?” she asks, her tone perfectly even as to not show fear, but also to keep any sass on her end at bay.
Scenarios play in her mind over what brings his attention to her of all people. Was her dancing off during the old manager’s send off performance? Is there an issue with her costume?
There’s an interesting glint in Bertrand’s eyes. He looks almost bewildered by her.
Belle can only hazard a guess at what that could possibly mean.
But if she’s honest, she’s beyond curious to find out.
“That music -- what you were singing and humming to -- what was that from?”
Out of all the questions Belle expects him to ask, that’s just about the last one on this Earth that she can think of.
She’s speechless. There have been times, she’ll admit, where she’s fantasized about what it would be like to be approached about her opera. Usually, they involve the managers, sometimes, it’s a singer, and rarely, it’s a director of another Opera House who then takes her to a far off exotic land where she can spend the rest of the days writing masterpieces with all the creative control she could ever ask for.
Never though have a single one of those fantasies involved Bertrand.
...Well, apart from a bit of gloating at him whilst reveling in her success, that is.
Despite preparing speeches and pitches in her mind right before she’s gone to sleep every night since she was twelve, she’s not sure how to answer now that a similar inquiry’s been thrown at her feet by the very last person she would expect it to come from.
It’s mostly a fear of a response, she reasons. Apart from the family she’s made with the Lucas’, most everyone involved in her life has mocked her dream in some way, shape, or form. She has a hard skin for it these days, but laughter still hurts and with the new managers having just started, it could be detrimental to her hopes of her work ever being heard out.
But Bertrand has asked her a question and he’s just persnickety enough to bother her to the point of insanity if she lies or tries to dodge it.
Belle takes a sigh and speaks.
“I wrote it,” she says carefully. “It’s part of an opera I’m writing.”
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An opera.
This woman, a woman whose name he hasn’t even learned, is writing an opera.
It’s as if God above hasn’t already given Bertrand enough of a reason to fall for her.
She truly is a woman after his own heart.
And dammit, she’s succeeding in the endeavor.
Bertrand feels himself smile. It’s been a while since he’s done that for a reason outside of his own success in quite some time. His face crinkles to reflect his bewilderment.
He’s simply amazed.
She’s written an opera, and by those bits of music he’s been blessed enough to hear, it’s one that may very well have no rival.
“I can’t believe it.” An innocent laughter bubbles under his throat. “Th-”
The words he’s about to say die on his lips.
Her expression has changed from skeptical to enraged in a single heartbeat.
Crap.
Bertrand’s never been the most straightforward man when it comes to communicating his approval of others and their works -- a rarity in its own right.
And unfortunately, the meaning behind his words has been once more betrayed as a result of that.
He rushes to elaborate on his intentions, but he’s not offered the chance.
“Excuse me!” the woman interrupts, a fire in her speech that matches the flames that burn behind her ice-colored eyes as she all but shouts her protest. “How DARE you imply that it’s somehow unbelievable for me to write an opera?” A finger points directly in the direction of Bertrand’s nose, unwavering and menacing.
Fear isn’t an emotion unfamiliar to Bertrand. He’s afraid of many a thing, but never would he have imagined that a pointed finger of all things would halt a mouth he’s seldom ever bereft of a voice when one has been wanted.
While Bertrand wants nothing more than to stop this rant before it can continue, the words refuse to come out.
And unfortunately for him, the woman’s words are more than happy to compensate for his silence.
“I’ll have you know that I’ve been studying opera since I was five years old! I’ve worked here for over ten years, read dozens of operatic pieces ranging from Shakespearean adaptations to “Ghiselle,” talked with most every person in this Opera House at length about their jobs -- probably to the point where I could do any of them upon request -- and personally tested out every bit of my opera too many times to count.”
“Bu-”
Bertrand’s cut off before more than even one more syllable can escape him, only stopping out of fear that his intrusion will only make things worse.
“I am MORE than qualified to write an opera and I won’t have yet ANOTHER aristocratic man whose likely worked HALF as hard as me for double the accolades telling me that I can’t out of some chauvinistic mindset! So instead of believing those ideals of the past, start believing that I’ll be the one selling out this theatre instead of you soon enough. I promise you, I won’t be the only person happy to see you overthrown.”
The woman then turns away and starts walking in the opposite direction for him.
Bertrand follows her, keeping at somewhat of a distance to prevent bringing her fury to a head once more.
“Please, wait!” he half cries, though only to prevent a scene. “I didn’t mean it that way. I-I’m sorry! Your work’s good -- better than good, great!”
She doesn’t seem to spare him a thought as she retreats back to the ballet’s quarters. Bertrand stops as she goes beyond where he could respectfully follow.
In an Opera House full of people -- even those that don’t particularly like him -- never has Bertrand felt so alone.
But right before she escapes his vision, Bertrand sees her hesitate. She almost looks like she’s about to turn back, like she’s accepted his apology and corrections as truth, but she seems to decide against it, walking through and closing the door closest to her.
Bertrand’s about to throw respect to the wind and go after her when suddenly, he hears a scream. It’s blood curdling and sounds like it’s coming from the stage.
Though somewhat reluctant due to the woman now running through his thoughts like a wolf in a forest, Bertrand does go to the stage to investigate. A girl who Bertrand can tell by her costume is part of the chorus lays on the floor. Her foot is crushed underneath and mangled by a sandbag that’s at least twenty-five pounds in weight. According to her cries as two stagehands attempt to remove the obtrusive menace, she heard a snap upon the sandbag’s contact with her foot. The cries are given evidence by an unnatural appearance her ankle presents as it once more meets the lights of the stage. Whispers emerge with the ankle, and there’s an all-to present fear amongst those who’ve responded to her wails that she may never walk wholly again.
A rope suddenly falls from atop the rafters, clearly one that once held up the sandbag. Most present on the stage not helping the chorus girl look up to the apparent scene of the crime for some semblance of a clue as to what happened. There’s no one above there, but light specks of dust fall like snow.
While the ‘why’ of the matter remains unsolved, the ‘who’ is as clear as day, for this is not a crime that’s new to The Paris Opera House.
Over the past few months, things like this have had a tendency to occur. Sandbags untouched for years as evidenced by the dust they’ve accumulated have been falling around and now on unsuspecting workers. Costumes have been mangled with scissors practically starving for fabric. Grand set pieces have been made hazards by artificially faulty support beams.
And just as with any dangerous oddity, they find themselves the subject of rumors, and The Paris Opera House has taken all of these incidents and made a demon of their own.
This latest of crimes is the work of the culprit that those in The Paris Opera House have dubbed as “The Phantom of the Opera.”
#ouat#rumbelle#belle french#rumple#Rumplestiltskin#once upon a time#Phantom of the Opera#rumbelle au
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