Dislcaimer: None of this mine. If I owned Once Upon A Time, there would be a lot more of Robert Carlyle in tight leather pants.
A/N:
ME: I'm going to work on Only a Rose and Of Curses and Broken Things
EVIL PLOT BUNNY: No! I have a new idea for you.
ME: But I need to work on these-
EVIL PLOT BUNNY: No! *proceeds to beat poor fanfic writer up until she submits*
I swear, I never meant to add a third story to my mix, but this plot bunny wouldn't let up. I've been sitting on this chapter for months, but with work, school and life getting in the way of my other stories, I figured I'd give you all this one to help tide you over.
Warning: this story is much darker than my other ones and as you can see, has a higher rating. There will be sex in this fic (not just Belle and Rumple) and issues such as adultery, murder and infanticide. It all boils down to how I think Rumple and Cora's relationship would have turned out had they stayed together. I think those two were always doomed, especially since he probably would have met Belle even if Cora had run off with him. Belle always was his True Love.
Note: this is a real AU as I've changed Rumple's backstory. In this universe, there is no need for a Dark Curse and since Cora never married Prince Henry, Regina never existed. Other differences will be brought up as the story continues.
Thanks and I hope you like it.
A Marriage of Untrue Minds
Chapter 1: The Deal is Struck
Yesterday was supposed to be her wedding day. Belle had forgotten amidst fortifying the walls, tending the wounded and gathering everyone inside the castle. The wedding had been postponed months ago when the ogres' siege had begun, but that still didn't change the fact that today she was supposed to be a married woman. She tried to feel something for that, yet she couldn't muster anything beyond fear. The ogres were coming. It didn't seem like she would ever be married now.
She stood beside her father at the table as they stared at the map. Their town still stood, but she knew Avonlea was under attack and four towns have already fallen to the ogres. Soon they would be here, unless a miracle came.
"Sir," one of her father's knights appeared with a note, "News from the battlefield: Avonlea has fallen."
Belle's heart sank. She looked over at her betrothed, Sir Gaston but he looked just as lost as she. Her own father paled at the news. "My gods," he gasped. They were doomed now.
"If only they had come," Gaston said. It seemed everyone had accepted the fact that they would soon die.
"Well they didn't, did they?" Maurice snapped. He walked towards his chair where he would receive the problems of the villagers and judge matters of court in their little town. Now it held him up when he was ready to collapse. "Ogres are not men."
No they weren't. They couldn't be reasoned with.
"We have to do something," Gaston said. Belle shook her head at him. They had no army, little weapons and no allies. They had done all they possibly could, it was up to the gods and magicians to help them now. "We have to stop them."
"They are unstoppable," Maurice said with finality.
Belle knelt next to her father, taking his larger hand into her two smaller ones. "They could be on their way right now, papa," Belle said. She still had some small hope that she would see the sunrise tomorrow.
"It's too late, my girl," he said, "It's just too late."
A loud, slow banging on the door startled everyone in the room. Belle leapt to her feet and started tugging on her father's arm. "It's them! It has to be them!"
"How could they get past the walls?" he asked. It was the tip of Belle's tongue to remind him of their magic, but now wasn't the time. Hope was being kindled again. "Open it!" he ordered his men.
The guards pulled off the beams barricading the door and pushed it open. Empty. There was no one there. Had they all just imagined the knocking in their fitful hope for a tomorrow?
"Well that was a bit of a letdown."
Belle and her companions all whirled around to see who had spoken. A man, or something, was sitting in her father's chair. He had such strange skin, not quite brown, green, grey or gold but a mixture of all four with an odd sparkle to it. His hair was a wavy and unkempt mousy brown. His eyes were scarlet and yellow, reptilian almost. He had a wicked smile on his face with terribly stained teeth. He toyed with a model of their town, stolen from the map on the table, with his hands.
Then Belle noticed the woman standing beside the chair. She looked perhaps a few years older than Belle with dark, almost black hair and matching dark eyes. She was stunningly beautiful in her dark red gown and alabaster skin. A cold smile curved her lips as she stared straight at Belle. Belle couldn't breath as she looked at her. This woman seemed to be sucking the very breathe and life out of her.
It was them. The famous Dark One and his Dark Lady. Rumplestiltskin and Cora.
"You sent us a message," Cora said in a voice as smooth as honey.
"Yes, something about, um, 'Help, help! We're dying! Can you save us?'," Rumplestiltskin said with cheer. He stood up from his chair at the same time Gaston pulled out his sword and pointed it towards his midsection. "Well the answer is, yes." He slapped the sword down to punctuate his words, "Yes, we can save your little town."
"For a price," Cora said. She walked over to stand by her husband's side.
"We sent you a promise of gold," Maurice reminded them. That had been Belle's idea, setting the price beforehand in hopes of removing the possibility of a price they couldn't afford later. It had all been her idea to call upon them for aid. It was they only option.
"Ah, you see, I uh, make gold," he stressed. Belle blinked at that knowledge. Yes, she'd heard that rumor, but it was true? He actually spun gold out of straw? "You see, what you are asking of us requires something a bit more…precious."
"What do you require?" Maurice asked, "Land? Jewels?"
"Blood," Cora said, "The price for your people's safety is the spilling of noble blood." She smiled as she met Maurice's gaze. "A noble death in exchange for your people's lives."
Belle gasped, her heart plummeted to her slippers. "No!" she shouted and broke free of Gaston's hold to take her father's arm. "No, you can't do this!"
"Belle, it's all right," Maurice told her, "I've lived a good life. You are too be married soon and you and Gaston will rule our people after I'm gone. That was always the plan, it just starts sooner than we expected."
"Papa, I can't let you do this. I can't let you die."
"It would be a good death," Maurice said.
"Oh yes, very good," Rumplestiltskin said, "Quick and very little pain. Though the squeamish will have to look away." That horrible giggle he sounded made Belle hate him in that moment.
She whirled around to face the Dark One and his woman, glaring at them with all of the pain and ferocity she could muster. "He is my father! Not some sacrificial lamb you can replace. He is a good man, a leader amongst my people. He is all I have left in the world."
Cora gave her a cool smile. "The price is noble blood, girl. It need not be your father's."
Belle put one hand over her chest where her heart still beat. It pumped her blood throughout her body, her noble blood. "Yes," she whispered, "Take me instead."
"Belle no!" Maurice shouted. Rumplestiltskin frowned at her, his eyes searching her like she had only just appeared before him.
"You can't be serious," Gaston hissed at her, "Your father is the far better choice."
"You have no right to say that!" Belle shouted at him, "He is my father and this is my choice! If blood is to be the price then I shall pay it."
She looked back at Cora. "Take me instead."
Cora smiled at her and for the first time Belle recognized something in her gaze: glee. She wanted to take her life. Belle refused to let that frighten her, but she still felt her heart beat a little faster.
"Wait," Rumplestiltskin surprised them all by speaking, "You would willingly die to save one man's life?"
"He's my father," Belle said, "He was willing to die for everyone else, why shouldn't I die for him?"
"You'll pay the price?"
"I will."
He rubbed his forefinger and thumb together and let out a "hmm" sound. "Your life will be forfeit to save your town."
Belle let out a breathe and nodded. It would be quick. He said there would be pain and she could handle that, but she did want it to be quick, for her father's sake.
"But it doesn't have to be your death."
Belle peered up at him. "What?"
"I'll make you a deal, dearie," Rumplestiltskin said, "You come and stay with us for the rest of your life and I'll save your town."
Live with them? Live instead of die?
"The young lady is engaged, to me," Gaston reminded him.
Rumplestiltskin let out a hideous laugh. "I wasn't asking if she was engaged. I happen to be married, I'm not looking for a spare. I'm looking for a caretaker for my rather large estate."
"Funny, I wasn't aware we were looking for one," Cora spoke up then.
"Well, darling, it was a spur of the moment decision," he replied without looking at his wife. Instead he looked at Belle, "Do we have a deal?"
She opened her mouth, but as so frequently happened, the men in her life spoke for her. "Get out," her father said, "I'll take your original deal. I'll die for my people, but you will not take my daughter away from me."
"It's her or no deal," Rumplestiltskin said.
"Then leave!"
His eyes never left Belle's as he said, "As you wish." Belle saw Cora's eyes flicker to hers, taking her in before she followed her husband to the door. They were leaving. Her father was giving up their entire village for her, so he would lose her. That wasn't fair. Hundreds have already died, more will die if he let this happen. If she let this happen.
"No, wait!" They stopped. She pulled herself out of Gaston's grip and walked towards them. "I will go with them."
Rumplestiltskin let out a gleeful sound, but her father shouted out, "No!"
"I forbid it!" Gaston boomed.
Belle shook her head at him. He wasn't her husband, yet he still thought he ruled her life. "No one decides my fate but me. I shall go."
"It's forever, dearie," Rumplestiltskin reminded her.
Forever didn't scare her. Him breaking his word, that was another matter. "My family, my friends," Belle said carefully, "They will all live?"
"You have my word," he said with a slight bow.
"Then you have mine," Belle said, "I shall go with you forever."
"Are you sure you want to do this, girl?" Cora asked her from the doorway, "I can kill you instead." That earned a glare from her husband, which Belle only had a moment to notice.
"No," Maurice broke forward and took his daughter's arm, "Belle, please, you cannot do this. You can't go with this…beast."
Rumplestiltskin pressed one hand to his heart, his face a mockery of offense. "Let me die," Maurice begged her, "Let them kill me, just don't go."
"Father," she said softly and then looked to her betrothed, "Gaston, it's been decided."
She wanted to hug her father goodbye, to kiss his cheek and promise him that this was for the best. But Rumplestiltskin stuck himself into the moment, wrapping one arm around her waist. "You know, she's right. The deal is struck."
That word finalized everything. The deal was struck. She now belonged to the Dark One and his Dark wife.
"Oh, congratulations on your little war," he crowed. He pulled Belle towards him, forcing her to turn around without saying goodbye.
Her heart was pounding inside of her chest as she stared at her new master. What had she done? What would happen now? She had made sure her family and her people would be safe, but she hadn't bargained for herself. He could hurt her if he wished.
"You find this amusing," Cora's icy words broke through the haze of Belle's fear. It took her a moment to realize she was speaking to her husband.
"Yes, and she's a far worthier prize than that old fart's heart," he said.
"I'm not a prize," Belle said.
Rumplestiltskin let out a laugh. "What did you think you were, dearie? Isn't that what you were born for? To be that toy knight's little prize? Well, now you're mine."
He flicked his wrist and suddenly they were no longer walking the halls of her father's castle. All she saw was a blur of black, green and purple. It moved like fog but seemed to have more substance than that. It was crushing her, choking her, filling her until she was certain she would burst. Then she felt her feet touch solid ground, stone actually.
Belle's knees gave away, but she managed to hold out her hands to break her fall on the cold, polished stone. She sucked in air but choked on it. Her eyes burned with tears as she coughed until her lungs found the ability to work again. Her head was spinning so she shut her eyes and pressed her forehead to the cool floor. It would pass. At least, she hoped it would.
"Excellent choice, husband," Cora said as she stepped around Belle, narrowly missing her hand, "She's quite fit for duty as our new rug."
Rumplestiltskin let out a snarl and then grabbed Belle's shoulders to haul her to her feet. "You showed some strength back there, where has it gone?"
"I'm—I'm sorry," she said, "I just—I didn't expect…"
"You ask for magic and yet you are surprised when it is used?"
"You could have warned me."
"That wasn't part of our deal."
He shoved her forward, making Belle stumble but she managed to regain her balance before her fall. The doors before them opened on their own and Cora stormed inside, throwing herself into one wingback chair by a fireplace. It was a nice room with beautiful tapestries on the wall that Belle thought might tell a story. She saw similar room once when she was a girl visiting King George's castle with her parents, but she didn't have much time to compare the tapestries. Rumplestiltskin was apparently in a hurry.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked.
"Let's call it, your room,"
That didn't sound so bad. She wasn't expecting much, certainly nothing like her room at home. No, best not to think about home. She had been gone only a few moments, she couldn't start feeling homesick just yet. It would break her.
So she decided to accept whatever he gave her. She had seen the servants quarters at her father's castle. They had been small, but comfortable enough. He'd always made sure everyone was cared for in his castle. She would have a bed, window and maybe even a fireplace. She would make do with all of that.
She didn't think about why he was leading her down into the bowels of the castle, how cold it was and how endless the corridors seemed. Then he brought her to a series of giant wooden doors. One flick of his wrist, and one door creaked open.
"Your room, dearie," he said.
It was one small space with an straw pallet and bars covering the windows. No blanket was set on the pallet and there was no fireplace to be seen. It wasn't a room, it was a dungeon.
"My room?" she repeated incredulously. He couldn't be serious.
"Well it sounds lot nicer than dungeon," he said cheerfully, then he shoved her inside.
"Wait!" she shouted, but the door closed. A latch fell then there was click. Rumplestiltskin let out his hideous giggle, even as she banged on the door. "You can't just leave me in here!" she shouted, "Hello! Hello!"
She banged and banged, but his footsteps still led him away from the door. She tried the handle but it wouldn't budge. Belle turned around, taking in every detail of her tiny cell. She could now feel the icy chill in the air, the stillness all around her. She was truly alone here.
What had she gotten herself into?
Rumplestiltskin hadn't felt this good in years. Not since tragedy had stricken the Dark Castle and everything had changed. Acquiring the girl was not his plan, but the more he thought about it, he was glad he had overruled Cora's price. He needed a new face to bother, someone he could play with for a while. He had been so bored of late. This knight's daughter would be perfect.
He giggled to himself as he thought of the chores he had in mind for her. He'd seen her hands, soft and oh so small and delicate. The heaviest thing she'd probably every held was a needle and sampler. Well, that would change. She would learn the life of the worker. If she complained, well then he'd teach her that she was now beneath him. This was so much better than simply forcing the nobles to die for their people, especially since most refused. Instead of learning to die, the girl would learn to be one of the lower class. She who had been on top would fall. Just like he who had been nothing had raised himself this high.
His steps were lighter, his heart skipping inside of his breast. He rubbed his hands to together as he imagined the girl scrubbing away in the kitchens, bent over a washboard, sweeping the endless halls of his castle. Now this was teaching the nobles a lesson.
He was so wrapped up in his plans that he failed to notice the priceless vase flying towards him. It was the Dark One's power that helped him detect the foreign object with the prickle in his spine that warned him of possible harm. He managed to step aside at a speed not possible by ordinary men. The vase went sailing past his shoulder, shattering on the wall into silver and black shards.
"That was five hundred years old," he said coolly towards the now worthless pottery.
"What's the loss of one trophy?" Cora hissed back, one dark brow raised in a challenge. She was right. He couldn't even remember who that vase had initially belonged too. It hardly mattered, only the magical objects were truly of value to him.
"You're piqued over the girl."
"Really? What gave you that idea, Rumple?" This time it was a silver plate engraved with ancient Imperial writing that was flung at him. He ducked, allowing the plate to slam against the wall. It was badly dented, not that he cared. He'd only acquired it because the late Emperor had loved it so much. He found gold far more appealing.
"If you are that desperate for more blood, I'm sure another noble will send a message soon," he said. She had said she wanted to rip our their throats and break their kneecaps. After twenty years, she still hadn't tired of it.
But Rumplestiltskin had.
Revenge had appealed to him a very long time ago and it was that promise that had first brought Cora to him, but everyone who he had truly hated was long dead. He had gained fear from the nobles and knowledge that he was never to be trifled with, thus he was to be respected. Oh he knew they scorned him when he was away, but none of them dared to challenge him. The truth of the matter was he simply didn't care anymore.
He didn't care that King George was penniless or that the kingdom of Midas was plagued by beasts. These men meant nothing to them other than the prizes they could offer him for his magic. Truth be told, he found a man's death was worthless. Revenge had a sweetness to it that burned out quickly.
Perhaps it was because he'd lived so long. He'd long ago gotten his vengeance, enjoyed its nectar and now was bereft of what to do. The memories were still bitter, no matter how many times he recalled the life sapping out of Hordor's eyes. There was truly nothing to profit from it now.
But Cora had yet to see this. She still wanted to rip out throats, to see fresh blood on her hands and stand over the bodies of those who had trampled her in the dust. He had offered her this before and she had bargained her hand and children into the deal. Now she had her magic and he had nothing to show for it but an empty bed and a cold grave.
Cora was clearly the winner of their deal.
"Maurice had nothing of value to us but his blood," Cora hissed.
"He had his daughter."
"That wench is of no importance to me," she said, "We don't need her here. We never needed a servant before, why now?"
"Fun," he answered truthfully. She was right that magic had always been their servant before. They never needed a laundress, cook or maid. Their magic had done everything they had ever desired, letting them devote themselves to spells and plots. But of late, Rumplestiltskin had found himself less in the laboratory and more at his spinning wheel. Magic still interested him, but he was running out of purposes to use it. Having someone new in the castle to toy with would hopefully let him find himself again.
Cora rocked back on her heels. A cold smile crossed her face. When was the last time she'd smiled warmly at him? "I see. The little beauty has your prick at full attention. Well bed her if you wish, then cast her out."
He snorted at the thought. Oh the girl was beautiful, exquisite actually. But he had never been ruled by his cock before, certainly not now. "She intrigues me," he admitted, "but if I wanted a mistress, I wouldn't pick the virgin daughter of a lesser knight."
"The thought of her unplucked fruit doesn't arouse you in the slightest?" she asked dryly, "I find that hard to believe."
She had him there. Only a dead man wouldn't find the Lady Belle a tempting piece and Rumplestiltskin was immortal, death didn't beckon to the likes of him. If he had been unmarried and the girl willing to let the Dark One in her bed, he'd cheerfully deflower her. As the situation stood, he had a wife and the girl loathed him. Rape had never tempted him in the slightest.
"Adultery is your hobby, dearie, not mine."
Cora's brown eyes flashed, her dark brows raised slightly. He hit a point he rarely chose to bring up. He knew that what had passed across her face wasn't guilt. If she truly felt remorse for her affairs, then she would have been more discreet about that. No, she was just surprised that he'd brought the subject up.
"Is that what this is all about?" she questioned as she stepped closer to him, "Are you jealous, husband? Do you want to even the field between us?"
"One girl could hardly do that."
Cora narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't play games, Rumple. If you want a woman, have one, but don't bring your little whores home."
He let out a vibrant laugh. "We already established that the girl is no whore. Perhaps you're the one who's jealous, dearie. You bartered your virtue away many years ago."
"I had no choice," she hissed.
"Perhaps not," he conceded that point, "but just because you give it away for free now, doesn't change what you are."
It was the first time he'd ever blatantly insulted his wife. Years ago, he'd never thought he would. Years ago they'd had a very different marriage. Now, he tried to muster up some guilt for his words but couldn't find anything. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought up her rather painful past, that had been a low blow, but she had been the one to try out other beds. She should hardly take offense to the bitter truth.
Apparently she did.
Cora abandoned magic and chose to make her assault personal. She struck Rumplestiltskin across the face. The blow left only a slight sting to his cheek, one hardly noticeable considering the magic that protected him. He only grinned at her as if to say, 'is that the best you can do?'
So she upped her game. She reached out with her hand to take a hold of one of the wingback chairs and hurled it at him. He used his own magic to send the chair back, away from doing him any temporary harm. But Cora had always been clever, one of the things he'd loved about her from the start.
While he had been protecting himself from the chair, she used her power to send The cabinet and all of it's costly possessions down on him. He let out a grunt of surprise as the massive weight of wood, glass and treasure piled down on his body. Had he been a man, he would have been crushed. The power of curse healed any broken bones and fractures instantly and his internal injuries were repaired. The rage at being bested, well that was only stoked.
He relied on his impressive strength to lift the cabinet off of him and purposefully throw it towards his disobedient wife. Cora didn't have the time to gather up her own power to use against the cabinet, so her only choice was dodge the attack. She threw herself away to the side on top of the broken glass and splintered wood. The glass cut into her palms and ripped her dress, nothing serious in the least and all easily healed.
She pulled herself back to her feet, but her husband wasn't through with her yet. One of his large spinner hands locked around her throat and dragged her away from the mess until he had her pinned to the wall. It wasn't a grip meant to choke the life out of her, only to restrain her from pursuing further injury to his person.
The blacks of his eyes were swallowing away the wicked color there. Cora gripped at the hand that held her, but not too hard. She bit back her own smile as he leaned in close to her. "That wasn't very nice," he hissed.
"If you want nice, go to your girl in the dungeons," Cora said. She reached up with her right hand to drag one long, blood red nail down from his temple to his jaw. "You know exactly what I am."
Her hand moved from his jaw to the collar of his shirt. She took one handful of silk to pull him towards in a bruising kiss. Her teeth bit at his lips, threatening to draw blood. Rumplestiltskin took her hand away and pinned it to the wall by her head. Cora fought at him when he went for the other, but he bested her there too. Now imprisoned, she had no choice but to accept his own punishing kiss.
They dueled with their mouths, teeth and tongues until he finally let go of her wrists to grip the bodice of her gown and rip it in two. She shoved his dragonhide coat off his shoulders and kicked it aside. Then she attacked his shirt and waistcoat, tearing both apart with her own fingers, not caring if she ripped into his flesh as well.
Rumplestiltskin sneered at her. He took one handful of her dark hair, pulling at it until she had to tilt her head back towards the ceiling. He placed a hard bite there at her throat before he tugged harder. Cora fell backwards onto the floor, landing in a mass of her skirts. Her husband pounced on her.
They battled each other with a kiss. He clawed at the skirt of her already ruined dress, ripping it into red ribbons. She wore a chemise and petticoats underneath but no drawers, only stockings held up by red garters. Cora slapped him across the face again, earning another growl from her husband. He flipped her petticoats up to her hips and thrust two fingers inside her without any teasing before. She needed none. She was already dripping onto his palm.
Cora raked her nails across his back as she moaned. Blood leaked from the wounds, but the pain was minimal and only added steam to the affair. He gave the bud just above her opening a hard pinch with his nails as he bit down one of her breasts as punishment. More of her juices poured out of her and she screamed so loud he wondered if the girl could hear them from the dungeons.
Rumplestiltskin sat up to untangle the laces of his breeches, freeing his cock. He was more than ready to take his wife and pound her into the floor. But Cora surprised him by kicking at his stomach, forcing him sprawling backwards. She smiled as she straddled him, pinning him now when he tried to fight and claim his place above her.
She freed one hand so she could position his hard shaft at her opening and then she sank down on him. They both let out long moans as her walls clenched around him. His fingers dug into her hips, biting the soft flesh there. Cora used her knees to raise herself up and then sink back down on him again. She kept a rhythm of deep, powerful thrusts, bucking her hips hard against his.
Rumplestiltskin tugged at her chemise or her hair as she rode him. At one point, he grabbed her hips and attempted to roll them over, but she shoved him back down again, biting around his nipple in retaliation. The pain made him come, releasing himself inside of her. She bore down on his spasming cock, the sensation bringing forth her own release. Her nails dug thick, red lines across his chest as the waves of her orgasm hit her.
She remained astride him as they both panted from their exertions. Their clothes were in ruins and the entire room was a mess of broken glass, wood and fallen artifacts. She smiled at him from her perch. "That was invigorating."
"Quite," he agreed.
"We made quite a mess," she mused, nodding to the fallen cabinet.
"Good thing we have a new maid."
She glared at him, but that only served to earn his laughter. She slapped him again, but he wasn't in the mood for another round. He continued to smile at her. "You can't win this, Cora."
Cora let out a huff and stood up. He followed her off of the floor, the sting of her scratches already fading. "Fine," she said, "You can keep your little pet. She probably won't last the month anyways."
"Don't be so certain," he said. He waved one hand over his person, the purple smoke swirling around him from his power. When it faded, he was fully dressed again. "I think she's made of much stronger stuff than the other nobles."
Cora smirked at him, her swollen lips still red because of their frenzied fucking. "We'll see about that."
Belle thought she was to be locked up for the night. It had been evening when Rumplestiltskin and his wife took her away from her home and brought her to this place. She heard nothing for several hours but the dripping of water coming in from one corner of her cell and the wind howling through the bars of her window. She didn't even bother trying to sleep. She doubted she would ever be able to sleep again.
She was startled when the door to her cell opened. It was still dark outside. Had he changed his mind? Was this done only to frighten her? Well it had certainly worked.
Rumplestiltskin walked in wearing different clothes than he did before. She wondered over the change, but didn't have time to deduce the reason. "Up, up, dearie," he said cheerfully, "Time to begin your duties."
"At this hour?"
He smiled at her words and she longed to pull them back and keep them in her throat. "You belong to me now. You will serve me at any hour I choose."
He showed no dark threat on his face, but she could easily hear it in his tone. Belle had to remember that this wasn't some spoiled duke or prince, this was the infamous Dark One. Disobedience or complaints would surely be punished. She shuddered to imagine the ways he could force her to accept her new fate.
"Y-yes of course," she stammered out.
The castle was chilly and Belle had no wrap to protect her bare shoulders from the drafts. If he noticed how she hugged her arms to her chest, he never spoke of it. He probably didn't care if she froze to death in that dungeon. Perhaps he even desired it.
He was uncharacteristically silent as the walked. She had thought him rather chatty back at her castle, but maybe he was different here. Some of the doors they passed were open and she could see mountains of priceless possessions and artifacts haplessly laid and covered in a thick layer of dust. Her people could have been fed and clothed for months from the contents of just half of one of those rooms, and yet he treated these wealthy objects like scrap. However, that one receiving room she'd been in before had been tastefully arranged and the objects treated with care. Perhaps the wild laugh, the manic behavior and gestures were all part of a mask. Did he slip into the role of the Dark One when making his deals, much like how her father had taken the part of leader when on his throne? Perhaps, just like Sir Maurice, when left to his private rooms, the role fell away and Rumplestiltskin became simply Rumplestiltskin, whoever that was.
It was silly to think that, she decided. She barely knew him. Even if he did have another side besides this feral creature, she doubted she would ever see it.
Belle kept her shoulders straight and her eyes forward on his back. She had to hold up her skirts when they were on the stairs. Would he provide her with more suitable clothes? She didn't dare ask.
Rumplestiltskin stopped before one door and opened it with the wave of his hand. There was the sharp spurt of surprise, quickly followed with a rush of relief when she saw it was only the kitchens. She'd been a frequent visitor at the one in her home, though it was much smaller than this castle's. Her governess had despaired when she found her pounding dough onto the table with the other cooks, but her father had only smiled. He was never one for idle hands and so he'd given her leave to pursue her interests as long as they gave her no harm. When she'd been betrothed, her father had suggested she stop mingling in the kitchens and prepare herself for marriage. Belle had missed the warmth of that place, the smells and the sounds that came from cooking.
"You are to serve us tea," Rumplestiltskin instructed, pointing to a tea service on the table that was waiting for use. "Surely, that simple task won't trouble you."
He was mocking her. He had assumed she would know nothing of this place or its tools, but he didn't know that Belle often took tea in her room on nights when sleep eluded her. Instead of disturbing the cooks from their rest, she would make it herself. This arduous task he thought he'd laid out for her was as familiar as her own name.
"Certaintly," she said, giving him a bright smile, "Should I prepare some pastries to go with it?" Perhaps they wouldn't be fancy, but she did know how to make a decent sweet roll.
"Oh no, dearie, I'd hate to have you burn this place down yet," he said with a grin. He hadn't believed her. Well, perhaps she'd show him the truth later, but for now the tea was all he desired.
She wondered if he would stay to watch her brew the leaves, but he did leave her to her task. There was a kettle next to the crackling fire place. She used a pump to fill it with water and hung it over the fire. She busied herself finding the leaves, sugar and milk as well as making sure the china set was clean. The kettle whistled when the water was boiled. She let the tea seep for a few minutes before she picked up the heavy tray and carried it to the receiving room.
Rumplestiltskin was sitting in one of the chairs at the head of the very long table. A turn of her head showed her Cora, now clad in a dark blue dressing gown, seated before the fire place. The woman gave Belle a long, sweep of her eyes before she turned back to the fire. Rumplestiltskin was rather off-putting most of the time, but Belle found herself frightened by his wife. There was something just so…cold about her. She much preferred the mad sorcerer than his icy lady.
"You will serve our meals," Rumplestiltskin began her list of chores, "And you shall clean the Dark Castle."
"I—I understand," Belle said, her voice shaking from Cora's stare.
"You will dust my collections and launder our clothing." He waved his hand in an odd gesture. Rumplestiltskin was the kind of person who spoke with hands, though he seemed to enjoy words just as much.
Belle set the tray down on the table. "Yes."
"You will fetch me fresh straw when I am spinning at the wheel."
She looked over at the lonely spinning wheel in the corner. How often did he spin straw into gold? To be honest, she actually looked forward to seeing him perform that amazing feat. "Got it."
"Oh!" he cried, pointing one finger up as if this new chore had nearly escaped him, "You will skin the children I hunt for their pelts."
The fresh, hot cup of tea she'd just poured slipped free from her hands. She gasped at his words, not even feeling the splash of the liquid has it sank into her skirts. There was a sort of clank that sounded, but she couldn't think of where that could have come from. Skin children? By the gods, no! She would scrub every floor in this castle, dust every artifact, even thatch the roof if he so wished it, but she could never do such a monstrous task.
"Really, Rumple," Cora spoke up from her chair with a chuckle, "What a beast you are."
She found his grotesque sport amusing? What sort of beings were these people? Had magic made them so terrible?
"That one was a quip," Rumplestiltskin said with a smile, waving one finger, "Not serious."
A rush of air gusted out of Belle's lungs. It was a cruel joke to play, but at least it had all been in jest. She forced a smile on her face and nodded, "Right."
The cup. She'd dropped it in her fright, that was what she'd herd before. Belle knelt to the ground, her skirts billowing out around her, to pick up the cup. Her heart plummeted again when she saw it had not escaped it's fall unscathed. "Oh my," she said.
Belle swallowed hard, cradling the damaged china in her hands. "I'm, uh, I'm so sorry." Rumpelstiltskin was peering at her rather strangely. His brow was crinkled and his head was tilted, but he didn't appear enraged. Not yet.
"Uh…it's uh…it's chipped." She nearly choked on the last word. She showed him the rather sizeable chip in the once valuable cup. "You—you can hardly see it."
That was a foolish thing to say. The chip was impossible not to notice. This had been a beautiful set, probably worth a fortune and now she'd ruined it. She wanted to mourn the cup, but she couldn't. Her mind raced with the possible ways he would punish her. Did he really skin people?
"You broke something already?" Cora hissed from her chair.
"I—I didn't…it's chi—chipped…I…I." She hated being so afraid. She had never been so scared before, not even when the ogres were just outside their gates. They would have killed her, these people could do much worse.
Belle stared at her master with a bloodless face. What would he do? She hoped she wouldn't disgrace herself now.
Rumplestiltskin blinked at her and shook his head. "Well it's just a cup," he said matter-of-factly, waving his hands in the air to show no malice. Belle stared at him for a moment. Was he serious? Did he really not care?
"She ruined it," Cora said, rising to her feet.
"Can it still hold tea?" he asked Belle."
"Yes," she said.
"Then I would hardly call it ruined. Bring it here."
Belle didn't allow herself a moment to wonder over this turn of events. She just poured the tea into the chipped cup and set it on a saucer. Her whole body was trembling except for her hands, she wouldn't let them quiver. She forced herself to be steady as she set the tea next to him. Rumplestiltskin didn't thank her, nor did she expect him to. But she still watched as he picked up the cup, thumbed the chip in the rim, and then took a sip.
"Not bad, dearie. You surprise me."
Belle smiled at him. "Perhaps you should have tried my pastries. I might surprise you more."
A rumble came from his chest, the closest she'd ever heard him come to a normal laugh. "I think you will."
Her smiled broadened at his words. No, Rumplestiltskin wasn't to be feared. She could see it now that he never had any intention of harming her. The chipped cup in his hands proved that fact. She wondered why he had wanted her. Had she impressed him before? Yes, she had a feeling she did, but surely that couldn't be the entire reason.
Cora had called him a beast, so had her father, but he wasn't that. No, he was not a monster. He was…a mystery. Yes, that suited him much better.
"Fetch me the sugar, dearie."
Belle nodded and turned around to get the sugar jar. When she did, she immediately clapped eyes on Cora. The woman was no longer simply staring at Belle, now she was fuming at her. Her dark eyes were nearly black but reflected the red and gold of the fire. It seemed like flames were dancing inside of her eyes.
No, Rumplestiltskin wasn't to be feared, but the same couldn't be said of his wife.
Belle spent what remained of the night curled up on the straw pallet forcing her eyes to stay dry and trying to make herself sleep. She succeeded at the first with the exception of one or two tears, but failed miserably at the latter. There was simply no possible way for her to get comfortable in her dungeon. Even if the lumpy, burlap bundle of straw she lay on was a feather bed she still wouldn't have been able to sleep. This wasn't a bedchamber, it was a prison. It wasn't her home. It was the lair of the Dark One and his lady. There was no comfort to be found here.
The door opened and Belle sat up right away. It wasn't her preferred choice, Rumplestiltskin, but his frigid wife who stared at her from the doorway. "Good morning," she said with a chilly sort of cheer, "I trust you slept well."
"Well enough, thank you for asking."
"Are you sure? You look dreadful, pet," Cora said, "If your quarters are uncomfortable, I can arrange for new accommodations."
New, not better. Belle wondered what sort of 'accommodations' Cora had in mind. Probably outside in the stables or stuck into a hollowed out tree. While the dungeons were hardly homey, being out in the winter chill was a far less appealing offer.
"I am quite happy with my room," Belle said, "I only miss my father."
"Really?" Cora sounded surprised, "You'll have to tell me what that is like."
Belle blinked back at her. Was she supposed to respond to that? Her mouth opened, but she could find no words to explain her misery at being separated from the only family she had left. Her mother had died along with her little brother when she was only seven years old. Her father had been all she had left in the world. How could she tell this woman what all of that meant?
"Don't just lay there, girl. My husband insisted on keeping you here as our maid. You have to earn your keep."
Belle scrambled from the cot. Rumplestiltskin was all flair and maniacal mannerisms, but Cora threatened with what she didn't say. Her father had always told her, "Do the brave thing and bravery will follow." Her father had never faced down this sorceress who clearly did not want her to be in her home.
"Rumple is busy in his tower," Cora said, "so its up to me to introduce you to this new life of yours. You can start by scrubbing the floor in the entryway."
That massive front hall? That would take hours all by herself and she hardly knew where to begin. Yes, she'd seen servants scrubbing the floors back home but there was a team of them and they had proper clothes, skills and tools for the task. She wasn't even sure what technique one used to clean stone properly.
"I understand," Belle said, "but, may I ask for some suitable clothes, Cora?"
"You dare to address me by my name?" Cora said, "Do you think me your equal?" Cora lifted one hand and suddenly all of the air was squeezed out of Belle's lungs. She reached for her throat where the invisible fingers choked her. She wheezed and coughed, but there was no way to get the air she needed.
"I am not your equal. I am your better. I may not have been born in a castle, but I have made myself far more than you will ever be." Cora's dark eyes gleamed wickedly as she spoke smoothly. "You are our slave. Our pet. You are nothing."
The choke ended as swiftly as it had started. Belle greedily took in the sweet air, doubling over as she coughed and sputtered on it. Her head spun and spots danced across her vision. Would she have killed her? Certainly she would have shed no tears if she had.
"Say it."
Belle kept one hand on her throat as she peered up at her. "You are nothing," Cora said again, "Say it."
"I—I—I am nothing," she croaked out.
"Good, pet. I am your mistress and you shall address me so."
"Yes, mistress."
"Now get to work."
Belle scurried away as fast as she could, her lungs burning as she ran. The kitchen seemed to be the safest place to recover, though surely Cora could find her there. Her whole body shook as she huddled in the corner, close to the stove. The night before, she had found some bread and jam in the pantry that she had planned to have for breakfast but the thought of food now made her stomach roll. A part of her wished she'd never agreed to this, but then her heart cramped with guilt at the thought. If she hadn't, her father would be dead. She was alive and so was he. It was better this way.
Her father. Surely, he was trying to find a way to save her now, though she wasn't sure it could be done. A whole army would be no match to the magic those sorcerers could wield. Only magic would be a match to them, good magic perhaps. Her fairy godmother.
Belle's mother had told her that long ago her ancestors had given aid to the fairies and in return, her family became a patron to one of the fairies. At her birth, her fairy godmother had come an bestowed her a gift, though she had no idea what it was. She had only met the fairy when her mother had died and she had come to explain to the stubborn little girl that death could not be changed, that no one deserved blame for her mother's early end. It had still taken time for her to understand that even magic had its limits.
Fairy godmothers were supposed to be silent guardians, only coming when their godchildren were in need. She couldn't come when the ogres threatened because of the rules of her kind, she couldn't turn the tide of fate or end a war to save one life. At least, that was what her father had said when Gaston had thought to mention her. And so Belle had brought up the Dark One, the only magic that was bound by no rules and could save their lives.
Would her fairy godmother come if she called her now? Maybe, or maybe this dark magic that lived inside every stone of this castle would deafen her pleas. No. No fairy godmother could save her, she would have to rely only on herself.
So with an aching heart and knotted stomach, Belle hunted for the tools needed to scrub the floors. She found a bucket and filled it with water from the kitchen. She didn't know what the maids in her father's estate used, but she put some soap into the water and hoped it would be sufficient. Another trip to the kitchen closet produced a scrubbing brush, right where she'd found the pail. Magic, she surmised. Maybe if she asked politely the castle would clean the floors for her, not that Cora still wouldn't insist that she do it.
The bucket was heavy and sloshed over her feet, soaking through her skirts, stockings and instantly numbing her toes. She hadn't bothered to heat the water, but not she wished that she had.
Belle realized why Cora had chosen this task after only a few strokes. The stone was rough and unyielding beneath her knees. Her unpracticed hands had a tendency to slip from the brush. Within and hours time, her knuckles were bleeding, her arms ached and her dress was clinging to her front. Every time she stood up, she nearly tripped over her voluminous skirts. The hem of her gown was completely ruined.
Cora came by and walked through the still wet patches of the room and smiled as Belle had to go over those stones again. She even 'tripped over a bucket', spilling the soapy water all over the place.
"Do you need a rest, pet?" Cora asked in a syrupy voice when Belle returned with a fresh bucket of freezing water.
She could smell a trap. If she said yes, Cora would probably punish her somehow. "No," she said instead, though every muscle screamed at her in protest.
"Good. When you're done here, you may beat the carpets. There is a line outside."
"Outside?" Belle reiterated, glancing at the windows. Snow was piled high on every tree and statue in the garden. It had been summer in the Marchlands, her gown was made of silk and set off the shoulders. She would freeze like a sapling at the first chill.
"Where else? If that doesn't meet your approval, I will find some other use for you than a maid," Cora said. Her hand began to glow with that odd violet color. Magic could turn her into anything, a lawn ornament, or maybe and actual pet for her to torture.
"No, mistress," Belle answered, her heart pounding in her throat, "I am pleased with my position."
"Very good, pet. Please, continue." Cora trudged her shoes through the wet stones again, a smile painted on her cold face as she left.
It took her three hours to finish her task. Belle's back was aching, her hands throbbed and her knees would never forgive her. Now she would have to go outside in a wet dress to beat the carpets in winter. Such a thing was only done in the summer back home.
Home. If the ogres hadn't come, she would go down to the village and read to the children. She would read her father's letters and point out his mistakes as he only trusted her eyes. She would be sewing her trousseau…well perhaps she didn't miss that. There was some relief in being free of Gaston. She did miss her father terribly and her nurse Agnes and her maid Betsy. They would laugh and share stories as they helped her prepare for dinner. Agnes had filled the role of mother ever since she was seven and Betsy had been the older sister she'd never had. It had been a good life, even if she'd felt restricted at times.
"Just think of this as an adventure," she told herself as she returned the bucket and brush, "You always wanted to be brave. Here is your chance."
"Talking to yourself, dearie?"
Belle gasped and nearly tripped over the empty bucket. She whirled around to find Rumplestiltskin standing in the middle of the kitchen. The odd skinned sorcerer did not fit the domestic setting he stood in. Then again, she hardly looked like a kitchen maid in her grubby ball gown.
"I…well I…" she didn't know what do say. He hadn't seemed as frightening as his wife the night before, but perhaps he was only playing some sort of game. She had to remember that she couldn't trust this dark couple, no matter how kindly he'd treated her blemish upon his china.
"Cat got your tongue?" he quipped and let out a horrid giggle.
"Di-did you need something?" she asked.
"Tea, dearie."
"Mistress Cora told me to beat the carpets once I finished the floors," she said. She wasn't sure if she should make his tea first or do the carpets. The tea wouldn't take as long, but Cora had instructed her to do the carpets after she finished the floors.
Rumplestiltskin frowned at her. "In this weather? You'd freeze solid and I have enough statues in the garden. Stay indoors, dearie. I'd rather have you last longer than a day."
Belle was relieved that she wouldn't have to brave the cold, but she was certain Cora would find something else equally as uncomfortable for her to do in return. She went retrieve the kettle and filled it with water.
"You're bleeding." He pointed to her hands.
"Oh." She looked down at the dried blood on her knuckles. "It's nothing. It doesn't even hurt."
"You're a dreadful liar."
True enough. She had never thought being a liar was a good thing, so why practice at it. "They will mend," she said instead since it was true.
He clucked his tongue and then took one of her hands. His palm was warm and dry, but not rough like she expected it to be. There were odd calluses in the pads of his fingers. Spinning, she thought.
His free hand glowed with magic and waved over her broken flesh. She felt and odd tingling sensation, like she had pushed her hand into the snow and then held it out before the fire. It only lasted a few moments and when she looked back her knuckles were healed. She held her breath and watched as he did the same to her other hand.
"Thank you," she whispered as she stared at the freshly healed skin. They weren't even pink like new flesh after a wound, but clean as if the scrapes had never existed.
"I can't have you bleeding all over my castle. I don't care for blood in my tea, despite the stories to the contrary."
She couldn't help but smile just a little. Yes, he was queer looking and very odd, perhaps even sharp, but there was a warmth in him. Just a tiny bit. Barely enough for hope, but she had that. A small flicker of hope.
Mirror magic is tricky business. They are excellent tools for spying, but are conduits. The user has to be careful to make sure they don't open the other side for viewing while at the same time able to hear the conversation coming through. Rumplestiltskin had never cared for mirror magic, probably because he detested mirrors. Cora had become a master at it, able to spy through any mirrored surface, such as the copper pots hanging in the kitchens.
She sat at her dresser and watched as her husband healed the girl's little cuts. The child smiled like he'd done some grand gesture rather than put her flesh back together. Pathetic.
Rumple sat at in an empty chair to watch as she put together his tea. Cora wasn't sure how she should feel about his obvious interest in the girl. He hadn't lied before, he had no interest in taking the girl to bed. Seemingly, that was innocent but she knew innocence often led into sin. Lust was fiery hot, but had a quick burn that cooled after a few tries. She should know. She'd enjoyed her own trysts when a man had sparked her interest or had something she wanted. She could understand Rumple wanting the girl for her beauty and her virginity, but there was no lust in his gaze.
She thought back to when they stood in Sir Maurice's castle when the girl had begged for her life to be taken instead. Cora would have been happy to have her heart and squeeze it into dust right before her old father's eyes. Rumple had always let her have her way before, but why choose to keep the girl instead?
The girl filled a teapot with boiling water and tea leaves. Her blue eyes found that cup she'd chipped the night before, sitting next to it's brethren on the tray. She wasn't a fool, Cora had to admit that, nor was she weak. There was strength in her, not the heavy courage of warriors, but the more subtle, but just as strong power of a one who had a true heart. She wouldn't break easily, if ever.
Cora watched as her husband selected that silly chipped cup for the girl to pour his tea. There was jolt of something through her. Not jealousy, nothing that powerful, more like a sense of unease. He had used the cup the night before to soothe the girl's fear, but he didn't have to now. Was this becoming another one of his odd treasures that meant little to even the greediest of men, but that he horded like irritable dragon? She didn't like that idea. That meant he saw true worth in the girl.
She didn't know what he wanted from this maid. Not her beauty, her virtue and certainly not her skill. Cora had kept her husband trapped inside of her hand for over twenty years. She didn't need a mirror to see this girl could be a threat to that. Magic or no magic.
A/N: I hope this has you all intrigued. Next chapter: Belle's fairy godmother arrives and brings up hostile reactions from Cora and Rumple and Belle loses another part of her freedom.
Please review and tell me what you think.
