Well, this one is turning out a lot longer than I expected :P Which is good, because I feel like the last one was too short and underdeveloped. I think you guys will like this one more :) Rumple takes Belle with him on a "business trip." :P
Songs I listened to while writing it (which turned out to be disgustingly appropriate):
U2's "With or Without You" performed by 2CELLOS
Trent Reznor's "Hurt" performed by 2CELLOS
"Promentory"/"The Kiss" - Trevor Jones, Last of the Mohicans Soundtrack
"Sail" - Awolnation
"My Body is a Cage" - Peter Gabriel
She was smiling, all the time. Constantly. It made him sick. What was there to be so happy about? She smiled even when she was on her hands and knees scraping out the fireplace. It had gotten to the point now where he was growing uncomfortable with watching her work. She was more of a guest in his home now, rather than a housekeeper. Even when she did foolish things like polish the mirrors, he felt guilty about throwing her in the dungeon. His temper explosions didn't even seem to faze her anymore.
Had she become used to him? It didn't seem likely…there was no way any person on earth could tolerate his radical and wildly unpredictable mood swings.
—
"I'm leaving for awhile on a business call," Rumplestiltskin told her one morning. He adjusted his shirt cuffs and pulled his traveling coat on. It was left unsaid that he expected the place to be immaculate upon his return.
"Take me with you."
His eyes flicked in her direction.
"I want to learn about your trade," Belle explained. His face crinkled up in bewilderment. Why in heaven's name would she want to do that?
"I'm, ah…afraid it wouldn't be very interesting for you, love. Boring business, deal-making."
He was lying, of course. There were certain lines of morality that he had no problems crossing when it came to his work. He did not, however, wish to expose Belle to his ethical deviances.
"Look, it's no secret what you do," Belle snorted. "Your name has been thoroughly besmirched across this entire land."
He was torn. On one hand, the idea of Belle's company pleased him, but on the other…there was a chance she would disapprove of his dealings and try to interfere. That was unacceptable.
He studied her, his eyes narrowed in consideration.
"I'll make you a deal—" he began, and she immediately interrupted him.
"How did I know you were going to say that?"
His eyebrows lowered and he pressed on in a stern tone. "You can come along dearie, but I don't want to hear a single peep out of you whilst I'm conducting transactions. You are to stay out of the way. Do you understand?"
Belle's head nodded ecstatically.
"No meddling, no protesting, no disapproving of my affairs," he continued. Her head continued to bobble in comprehension. "Do not distract me, do not provide input, and above all else, do not try to help."
He paused for a breath, and Belle chewed on her lip with eager anticipation.
"Alright then," he finally concluded with a tug on his jacket. "Let's go."
—
By evening they reached the ferry that would take them to the island town of Lindau. Realistically, it wasn't necessary for Rumplestiltskin to travel by conventional means. He could easily spirit himself to wherever he desired. But each minute that remained was another minute he was able to spend with Belle.
The fog grew thick as they stood on the small wooden barge that carried them silently across the water. He felt Belle's hand tighten around his elbow, and she peeked anxiously out from her hood. He couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"The only thing you have to fear around here is me, dearie," he growled furtively. She looked up at him and he smirked. She had wanted to get to know him. This was certainly going to be her opportunity, and he doubted she would like what she discovered.
They reached the far shore, and the town was dead quiet.
"You go to the inn," he instructed. "I'll be right along." Before she could protest, he was gone.
—
The next morning, he rapped on her door. She flung it open, quite obviously infuriated with him. "You were supposed to take me with you!" she shouted. "I promised to follow all of your stupid little rules. Why didn't you take me with you?"
Because you make my life a living hell, he thought. "I had a small errand to attend to," he said.
She crossed her arms and gave him an unsympathetic glower.
"I've brought you a gift," he clarified. Her face went slack with surprise, and he pointed at the bed behind her. There, laid out in the sunlight, was an ornate gown crafted of amethyst velveteen. He lingered in the doorway as she ran to examine it, her voice ringing with delighted laughter.
"Why?" she pealed.
"For later…when you accompany me to my meeting. I can't have my business associate looking like a frazzled slave girl, now can I." He was exaggerating. Belle never looked like a frazzled slave girl. He didn't think he could bear it if she ever did appear tattered and worn.
"And who did you kill to get it?"
He grinned darkly at her.
—
At precisely eight o'clock that evening, they arrived at the palace. Only half an hour late, fashionably. They strolled past the guards who were unable to stop them; they made it through the gates, over the bridge, and past the portcullis with nary a protest. Rumplestiltskin had subdued them all with a simple snap of his fingers. He arrived in the foyer of the Great Hall with Belle on his arm, and demanded to be introduced. The rector manning the reception podium backed himself into a wall.
"You will introduce us, now," Rumplestiltskin hissed through his teeth. He hadn't been invited, of course…though he'd been known to crash a few parties in his day, and there was really nothing anyone could do about it.
The pair strode into the entryway to the ballroom, and the usher announced their arrival with a quake in his voice. With that, and a firm air of authority, he swept Belle out onto the floor clustered with other finely dressed patrons.
"What are we doing here?" she asked, grasping his shoulders apprehensively. She was much too stiff.
"Go with the flow, dear, please. You're drawing attention."
She gaped at him. "Are you joking? You called attention straight to us as soon as we walked in."
It took several moments to settle into a tempo and routine that matched the other dancers; the string quartet was playing a waltz. She relaxed once they had the pace down, and in no time they were spiraling about the floor in unison with the other couples.
"You see the wife over there," he murmured to her as they spun and danced in time to the music. He tilted his head in the direction of the stately woman he was referring to. "She's married to the lord or the prince, or whatever nonsense he is. But she doesn't want to be. She wants to be married to that politician over there." He leaned his head once more, to the opposite side of the room where a very burly, statuesque-looking fellow stood. "He's held in higher esteem, you see. She is trying to elevate her status."
"But she has to have something you want. To complete the deal," Belle whispered back, as she glided along with him to the rhythm. "What is it you want from her?"
He was quiet and pensive for a moment; they wheeled and weaved amidst the other couples, many of them throwing disgusted looks in his direction when they caught sight of his face. "We'll just have to see what she has to offer."
But for now, he would enjoy this dance. He was in no hurry. The night was young and he had his hands on a beautiful girl. He caught her looking over his shoulder at the woman he'd just told her about.
"It's sad that she's not in love with either of them."
"'Tis the way of the world."
The chamber ensemble slipped into a slower sort of ballad, and Belle tucked herself into his chest. He allowed it; it was much easier to distract himself away from her allure in a room full of people. He had to maintain his presence and composure. They were all terrified of him, despite the jovial atmosphere of the ball. In fact, having a woman in his arms was probably working to his advantage. Surely, in their eyes, he'd somehow bewitched the poor girl, lured her with his sinister guile. What would he do with her? He could see it in their faces—without a doubt, he would drag her back to his lair later and suck the meat off her bones.
Belle sighed contentedly, her warm breath drifting across his cheek. He hadn't realized she'd leaned in so close; his body tensed and he cleared his throat uneasily.
"Well, I was just getting comfortable," Belle hummed into his ear. "There's no need to panic." She ventured further, testing him, no doubt to see if she could break him in room full of people. The woman had a cruel streak to rival his own. She pressed her warm cheek to his. "The only thing you have to fear around here is me," she whispered.
He closed his eyes, his fingers tightening at her waist. He released a long slow exhale, as though he'd been holding it for a hundred years.
"Ah, Belle," he muttered. "Bringing you was a mistake." He could feel her smile wide against his face.
"As far as I recall, you never set any rules against this."
"I said you weren't allowed to distract me."
She fell silent, and braced herself as if to pull away. He'd thrown a technicality in her face; she realized she was breaking the terms of their agreement.
He held her fast. "You're not going anywhere," he crooned, his eyes darting about the hall. "You're making me look good."
He owned the room with this woman. He could feel the tension and the fascination being stirred up by their presence, especially with the hedonistic way they moved together. This strange girl, ravishing in her opulent dress, had the entire length of her body pressed against that of the Beast as though they were long-lost lovers. His arms around her were protective, but not possessive…yet no one dared to cut in for a dance with beautiful Belle. The entire assembly could see that she belonged to him and him alone.
The slow ballad ended, and when they finally came to a stop, he drew in a shuddering breath. Looking down at her, he said: "Let's get to work."