It wasn't altogether a surprising sight. She'd stumbled across the odd baby in her time at the Dark Castle, always nestled in a particular wicker basket her master seemed fond of. Though at first the babes appeared rather unannounced- and Belle was sure Rumplestiltskin had done it to keep her in her toes, to try and rattle her- over time her master had started telling her when to expect them. She'd prepare for it, airing out the room next to hers, putting fresh sheets on the cot there, getting fresh milk and making sure to have cloth diapers and pins at hand, as well as an assortment of clothes, just in case. The mountain air was cold and unforgiving, and babies needed a lot of bundling up.
Belle liked children very much, for the same reason she loved animals: unlike adult people they didn't judge or question. She didn't need to put on a facade with them, didn't have to pretend to be somebody she was not. Someone proper and dutiful and pure. It was the same with her master. Rumple seemed to encourage behaviour in her others had sought to curtail or limit: he let her read as much as she desired, indulged her strange sense of humour, even her thirst for adventure on occasion. He pretended to be annoyed at her every time she tried to learn something new but would encourage her in small ways he likely thought she didn't notice. With him she could be herself, sarcastic and irreverent and able to speak her mind always.
So, having children in the castle every once in a while wasn't exactly a chore for Belle, specially once she realised her master did not mean them harm. He seemed equally fond of children, likely for the same reason she was. But Rumplestiltskin had said nothing of a baby for months, so the appearance of the child was very surprising. He was wrapped in a lovely homemade wool blanket so yellow it almost seemed gold, and looked young, perhaps a few weeks old. The tiniest baby she'd seen by far, but also the one dressed the best, his garments finely-made and foreign-looking. He looked fragile and vulnerable and it stirred something so powerful inside her she immediately grew angry at Rumplestiltskin for dumping the child in the middle of the foyer without even letting her know it was there.
Though the baby was fussy he calmed down immediately when she picked him up and held him close to her breast for warmth. He nuzzled close, prompting her to take him to the kitchen, where she made him a bottle of milk, which the little piglet drank down greedily, making the most adorable little noises. She kept reminding herself not to grow attached even as she cuddled the babe close to her. Whenever she'd try to lower the little tyke down he protested, letting out tiny mewls that broke her heart, so she found herself coming up with all manner of pretences and excuses to pick the baby up.
It was when she changed his diapers for the third time in an hour that she saw the letters stitched into the lining of his clothes. Gideon, a name she was familiar with. A favourite of hers, from her favourite story. And something else about it sparked recognition in her, though it was fleeting.
"Gideon. Little Gid. Your mamma has good taste in names."
She usually tried to avoid thinking about where the babies Rumple took came from. She'd learned early on none were stolen, all freely given in deals. She tried to remind herself that she had been born surrounded by privilege, that most other people struggled for survival and that sometimes that led to desperate decisions. But she had seen enough babies come from comfortable families, from economically stable households, and had found out the terms of some of the deals. People asking for youth, talent, fame, beauty. Those people were better off not being parents, so she had learned to be glad in those instances and try not to think about deals made for survival.
Gideon's clothes, however, indicated a wealthy household. Perhaps, then, something traumatic had happened. For some reason, she refused to think that Gid could be one of those unwanted, bartered babies Rumple brought some time. The idea of him coming from parents who didn't love him was too difficult to bear. Who wouldn't love him, with his little pixie ears and the utter serenity that stole over him when he was held? Such a good baby had to have come from good, loving parents. It was silly, of course, and more than a bit unfair. All babies deserved to be born into a family that cherished them, yet she'd never wished more fervently for a child to be wanted than she did with little Gideon.
She began to worry about what sort of family would be chosen for him, what sort of desperate soul would be selected to receive him. Belle didn't usually fret about the children when they left the castle. She'd learned they all were bound to homes where they'd be cherished, doted upon. To parents who'd desired them above all else, and who'd paid a dire price to have them in their arms and in their lives. But Gideon deserved more than just parents who would appreciate him, he deserved to be loved unconditionally and fiercely, deserved devotion. She got used to carrying the baby around in his basket as she did her chores. Sometimes in the afternoons she read to him and though he was a new-born she swore he listened avidly at her, as if he recognised her voice, found it soothing.
By the time Rumplestiltskin returned from his latest trip she was afraid to bring up the child at first. Perhaps if she didn't mention him her master would forget and she'd get to keep him a bit longer. But Gideon seemed to have a different opinion, as he started wailing the moment he woke up in the nursery while she served dinner. Though the castle was vast the nursery was enchanted to amplify infant cries- a way to "keep an eye on the merchandise", as Rumplestiltskin had taunted her back when she didn't know better- so Gideon's unhappy screeching reached them loud and clear. Rumplestiltskin startled and looked at her, eyes narrowing.
"Whatever have you been up to, little maid?"
Before she could answer with something flippant he disappeared in a haze of smoke, leaving Belle to make her way to the nursery on foot. By the time she arrived Gideon was eyeing Rumplestiltskin as the imp held the baby as one would a piglet being inspected.
"Who the devil is this?"
"Have you forgotten the baby you dumped into my care weeks ago while on a trip? How careless."
She plucked the baby out of his hands and nestled him close to her chest. Little Gideon turned his head to nuzzle her skin and quieted down immediately, turning into the adorable little seraph he'd been since he'd gotten to the Dark Castle. She waited for a quip that didn't come, and began to worry when Rumplestiltskin looked more confused than outraged. Usually by then he'd said something about her cheek, or threatened to turn her into something nasty and slimy. All bark, no bite, which made the silence strangely disturbing.
"I have no idea who that baby is, dearie. I certainly didn't acquire it."
For a moment, she thought he might be joking, but he looked unsettled enough to rule that out. He sat her down and instructed her to tell him how she'd come across the baby over and over, much to her annoyance. And after he told her to bring everything that she'd found with the child. It was then that things got truly strange, for when she produced the wicker basket Gideon had been nestled in, and that she'd used to carry him around, Rumplestiltskin produced an identical one.
"This is my basket, dearie, not that one."
They were virtually identical, only Gideon's seemed to have a bit more wear and tear, though nothing too obvious. He inspected the child's clothes next, showing as much surprise as she had when he noticed the strangeness of them, how finely-spun they were, and how oddly-decorated. When he saw the blanket, however, he looked downright terrified. It was clear that he recognised it, somehow, but it didn't bring him any comfort.
"This baby... we need to know where it came from. Now."
"It's not an it, it's a he. His name is Gideon."
He seemed taken aback by her fervent reprimand, but recovered quickly and gestured for her to follow him. They went upstairs to his workroom, where she seldom was allowed, and while Belle rocked little Gid, trying to keep him distracted- the smell of potions seemed to be getting him fussy- her master ransacked the room, emitting a triumphant little giggle when he found it: a small, round crystal ball.
"This little thing needs replacing, but it's still good for one more scry. Let's find the poppet's parents, shall we?"
He looked intently at the babe and whispered into the crystal ball. Belle leaned close to try and see but was disappointed when nothing but their reflection showed up on the glassy surface.
"Magic must have ran out. This might be more complicated than I thought. Might need to procure something else to solve this little mystery."
Though Rumplestiltskin was flippant Belle knew, somehow, that he was shaken. And now that she thought about it she understood. The Dark Castle was heavily guarded yet someone had managed to sneak in and leave the baby. A baby her master couldn't find the parents of through simple magic, a baby with strange clothes and a basket identical yet somehow older than the one he owed.
"Take the little babe to the nursery. Might as well have him comfortable till we figure out where he comes from."
The second magical go at finding out Gideon's parents backfired too, a globe, topped by a needle, where Rumple had little Gideon prick his finger, holding him steady over the glowing orb. The resulting magic drew a map of the Enchanted forest, with Gideon's tiny droplet of blood landing squarely were the Dark Castle was.
"Well, that's a bust too. Damn thing's tracking the lad, for all the good it does us, and not his parents."
Belle glanced sideways at him, noticing how comfortable and natural he looked holding little Gid. Usually Rumple was very stand-offish with the babies, almost always refusing to hold them, dumping them on her as soon as he was able and otherwise keeping them at a distance. But somehow, he seemed to have forgotten all about his aversion to babies, since he was holding Gideon close, the baby sniffing at the sorcerer, finding something comforting in his smell. Rumplestiltskin was absentmindedly petting the baby's hair, of which he had plenty. When he finally noticed he all but tossed the baby over to her and told her to go clean something, which was code for 'I'm feeling vulnerable and need a moment'. Belle graciously went to pretend to dust the library.
There were other attempts after that. Though Rumplestiltskin seemed to be waiting for the acquisition of a certain specific magical instrument to make another serious try at discovering Gideon's identity, he fiddled with a few things in the meantime, with no positive results. The child, far from recoiling from magic, seemed to seek it out. He had determined Rumplestiltskin was a good person, because he was calm as one please every time the imp held him close, or when he talked in a low, more human tone. He kept on being his well-behaved, hungry little self, eating, sleeping and being curious when awake and sated. Though he tended to favour her he sometimes seemed more in the mood to listen to Rumplestiltskin's nonsense and fussed until he changed hands. Her master pretended he needed the wee one for something whenever he picked him up, some hair of an imprint of his tiny hand. He was careful with the babe, knew exactly how to cradle him, how to hold him so that his head and limbs were perfectly secure. She had caught him more than once absentmindedly burping the baby or even feeding him.
As the days passed without Rumplestiltskin having any success Belle dared hope they could keep little Gideon with them. The child seemed already frightfully attached to them, after all. But as soon as she began to entertain the possibility her master announced he had acquired the necessary ingredients for a full-proof spell to lead them to Gideon's parents. He let her into the workshop to show her the cauldron where a bright golden potion simmered.
"I'll just need two droplets of blood from the little poppet. The potion with find his parents and mark them and I'll just track the magical signature. Easy as pie."
The limp state of his hair and his wrinkled clothes belied his words, but she wisely made no comment. She allowed him to prick Gideon's foot and squeeze two droplets of blood out, after which the potion began to react violently, swirling around until it shot out two bright orbs, one that hit her on the side of the neck and the other that got Rumplestiltskin on his nape, sending them both to the floor. Gideon cried, unhappy about being jostled about.
"Another failure?"
It seemed strange to her. Rumplestiltskin was, as far as she could glean, centuries old, and incredibly powerful. That he would fail so many times at something as simple as tracking down two people seemed strange, if not downright impossible.
"... I don't think so."
His voice trembled, and when she looked at him his eyes and moth were wide open and he was staring at the baby in a way he never had before. Half-scared and half in awe.
"I don't understand. The potion was supposed to find his parents and mark them."
"I... I think it did. It marked you and me. Just like the crystal ball showed our reflection and the globe marked the child's parents as being inside the Dark Castle." He giggled, a wet and choking sound, and peered intently into Gideon's small, thin face. "He has your cheekbones... and my eyes."
Belle looked down at the child, recognising her delicate bone-structure in him, as well as Rumple's brown eyes and his slightly-pointy ears.
"It's... it's not possible. I've never been pregnant. I've never even... and Gideon's weeks old. I've been here for months, and you've seen me being distinctively not pregnant the whole time."
"And yet the child was wrapped in a baby blanket identical to my own, only mine is safely locked away were I left it. And the basket is identical to my own, only it's not." His voice was soft, deep and incredibly human, and it somehow scared Belle, how undone by it all Rumplestiltskin was. She remembered Gideon's name embroidered into his clothes, remembered how strangely familiar the stitches had looked, and it made sense then. They were her own.
When she focused on Rumple again he was tearing the older basket apart, until two rolls of paper fell out from the very entrails of it. He picked one, inspecting it closely. It seemed blank at first, until Rumple pricked his finger and let his blood run down the paper. It settled oddly, slowly forming letters and then words.
"Blood magic. How clever I am."
Belle leaned in, reading over Rumplestiltskin's shoulder a letter written by, apparently, himself. She recognised the handwriting easily. The letter told a strange story, of a terrible threat and untold destruction. Of two parents, desperate to protect their new-born babe, destined one day to bring peace, but unable to survive while the evil rose. Of a vision of the child living, safe and sound, in a time past. A safe place, where he'd be happy. Where he could be with his parents and be part of a family.
"Time-travel is not possible."
Belle knew Rumple enough to notice the hesitation in his tone, the acknowledgement that something he'd believed to be true might not be after all. She knew time-travel was one of magic's few limitations, had read enough books on magical theory to know that, but the mounting evidence seemed to indicate someone had found a way around that old rule. Which meant she was hold her son. Perfect little Gideon, named after her favourite character in her favourite book. Her own, her blood.
And Rumplestiltskin's.
She had not known what to expect after finding out Gideon's identity, but she hadn't thought Rumplestiltskin would become a veritable ghost in his own castle, an unseen and yet present entity that skulked around corners and hid out of sight just as she thought she might catch a glimpse of him. It wasn't that he was out of the castle much more than before, the opposite. Though she couldn't see him much she always knew he was around. He just seemed to always must be wherever she was not. At first, she hadn't minded, being too enraptured by Gid to pay him much attention. She had finally stopped fighting her instincts with the baby, knowing he was hers and she wouldn't have to give him up, and showered him with affection and care. Though he slept, as always, in her bedroom, she set about redecorating the rather generic nursery next to her room specially for him. And though she did everything herself, at first, soon she started to see Rumplestiltskin's invisible hand working its magic in the room. Toys would appear out of nowhere, as would linens and clothing and once a beautifully-crafted rocking chair.
Sometimes she'd leave Gideon alone to cook, change the sheets or something else and though the child was always alone when she returned to the nursery she could feel the faint static of magic in the air, and sometimes even catch the last of Rumple's characteristic smoke dissipating. But no matter what she did she could not get him to talk to her more than a few sentences, or be in her presence for more than five minutes. It was like living with a wild deer, skittish and wary of her.
In the beginning, she'd thought that it was Gideon who frightened him. After all he must have had a child at some point, to be so knowledgeable of their care, only to have lost him. She had found a room, a little boy's room, which seemed to support her theory. Babies were fragile creatures, and Belle herself got scared every time Gideon sneezed or had a bad colic. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to be a parent again after experiencing the loss of a son. But after a while it became clear that Rumple spent time with Gideon, as much as he could whenever she was not looking after him. Sometimes, if she stood outside the nursery and made no sound, she could hear her master poof into the room and talk with the baby, even sing to him. He had a lovely voice when it was pitched low and his accent was thick, and she was unsurprised to feel butterflies in her stomach.
If she was being fair she had to admit her attraction to Rumplestiltskin was old, older than she would care to admit even. It had started with small things, with shared jokes, the discovery of a similar interest or two, the sharing of small intimacies. Their mutual otherness had called out to each other and before she knew it Belle was catching herself admiring the way the light hit his skin, in particular that spot made visible by his open collar, and the way his pants hugged every bit of him. She had never liked the sort of tall, bulky knights that were the norm back home, so it was not surprising to find that short, thin sorcerers were more her preference.
By the time she realised what had happened she had grown wholly comfortable with Rumplestiltskin, the way she had seldom felt with anyone, and the matter of her deeper feelings seemed unimportant, something best left unexplored. Why ruin something good by pursuing what could not be? Surely her master didn't feel for her what she did for him. And yet now the proof of how wrong she'd been lived and breathed right next to her, in all his adorable glory. Somehow, in some future, she and Rumplestiltskin had managed to create a person together. That changed things completely.
Except, of course, that Rumplestiltskin was being too much of a coward to face her. And she might have let him evade her indefinitely, too weighed down by her own doubts and fears, if she hadn't caught him by surprise one night in the nursery. He'd been away for several days tending to a deal that, as far as she understood, asked a lot of him. It wasn't often that such a thing happened, but though immortal, Rumplestiltskin was not without limitations, nor was his strength infinite. She caught him slumped against the cot, watching the rise and fall of their child's chest as if it was some sort of magical phenomenon. He looked tired, his clothing torn in places and dirty in others and the fact that he hadn't magicked the wear and tear away told her a lot about how drained he was. He'd been reinforcing the castle's wards and running himself ragged acquiring all sorts of protective spells and defensive artefacts, determined to make the Dark Castle into a veritable fortress.
"He's getting better at sleeping through the night, but I still get up to check on him."
He startled visibly, turning his head to look at her and then swiftly looking down, a very faint blush dusting the top of his cheeks. Belle looked down at her simple nightgown and robe, made of serviceable cotton instead of the silk sleepwear she'd grown up wearing, and noticed they were a bit too thin, perhaps, certainly more revealing than her corseted, layered gowns.
"Yes, well, I was just checking on the wee bairn, didn't mean to disturb you, I'll just go—"
"No!"
Though her voice never rose over a whisper it froze Rumplestiltskin all the same. Perhaps it was because it was the middle of the night, and it was such an informal, casual encounter, or because Rumplestiltskin looked so raw and open, but Belle felt like it might be the best opportunity she had had in weeks to clear the air, to confront the elephant in the castle, so to speak.
"We need to talk about this."
Though she half-expected him to bold Rumplestiltskin remain where he was, looking wary but resigned. She looked around for inspiration as to how to approach the subject, feeling like she needed to do this correctly or her master would shut down completely and she'd lose her chance. Her eyes landed on Gid, snuffling in his sleep and she finally found the words.
"I spent a lot of time since we found out about Gideon's origin trying to figure out why our future selves chose to bend the fabric of magic to such a degree to send Gideon to us. And at first it seemed we were just... the safest place. Gideon would be with two people ready to do everything for him, as they knew we would. He'd be in the Dark Castle, away from any possible danger, guarded by the Dark One himself, and by the time the threat materialised he'd likely be old enough to deal with it, and we'd be prepared. But... I don't think that's it. I know myself, and I know you. And if I had to give up my child, to send him away, I would want him to be in a place of love. To grow up with a loving family. And I think they knew that just as they loved each other... so do we. They sent him here, to this point in time, because they knew we already loved each other back then. And if this is going to work, if we're going to do this right, you have to acknowledge this. I love you."
The deafening silence that followed her confession was unbearable, but Belle refused to look away or back down. The incredulity in Rumplestiltskin's eyes hurt but she reminded herself of how little his master thought of himself, how prone to self-loathing he was.
"You lie."
"I don't. I love you. Accept that."
"You don't. Stop lying."
He sounded almost angry, as if he resented being had. Belle squared her shoulders, knowing she needed to push him or he'd never believe her.
"I'm not. I love you. Now you say it."
He growled, taking a menacing step towards her. Belle resisted the urge to roll her eyes and stood firm. A minute passed, then another. Only when Belle felt herself close to tears did she relent, turning away so he could not see her cry. She didn't want to guilt him into any confession, didn't want it to be that way.
"Alright, be that way. I'll see you in the morning... I hope. I never know nowadays."
She hadn't taken more than two steps towards her room when she felt him right behind her, vibrating with something that wasn't quite anger. She stopped, willing herself not to tense, and waited for him to make a move.
"You wretched girl", he rasped out, his mouth so near her she could feel the words burning the back of her neck. His forehead came to rest between her shoulder blades, and Belle worried for a second that she pushed too much, too hard. That he might not be ready for it, that it would have been better to continue as they were, even if just for the sake of Gideon. A moment later he let out a hoarse, derisive laugh, that felt capitulating and joyful at the same time.
"I love you."
The words broke the tension in the room, making Belle sag forward, letting her rest weight on a chest of drawers in front of her, Rumplestiltskin pressing his body against her back. His head moved to rest atop her right shoulder, pushing her hair out of the way so he could nuzzle against her neck, tentative and determined at the same time. His breathing was ragged and the arms resting beside hers were shaking, but it didn't stop him from skimming his lips against the spot where her shoulder met her neck. She gasped, tilting her head to the side for no reason other than it felt right, felt like the thing to do. There was nothing but instinct to guide her forward, though her inexperience didn't make her feel at a disadvantage at all. Her master might be powerful and more versed in romantic matters than her but there was no doubt in her mind that she held most of the power in the room.
"I love you."
His voice was little more than a growl, but somehow it did things to her no voice should have been able to. His right hand ghosted over her upper arm, shy at first, a feather-light touch, and took her hand to make her twirl around. They were close enough for Belle to feel the heat radiating from Rumplestiltskin's body and smell the scent of magic and sweat coming from him. His eyes were soft, almost liquid, open and vulnerable in a way that made her feel protective of him. Hesitantly he leaned forward, nose brushing her own a few times before dipping his head lower, his lips stopping just shy of hers. She could feel the tension radiating off him and she understood immediately the reason. The Dark One, scourge of the Enchanted Forest and supposed source of all evil, was asking for permission. If she hadn't been in love with him then, that would have certainly done it.
"Yes…"
It came out embarrassingly breathless but far from objecting Rumplestiltskin let out a needy little whimper before covering the scant distance between them, pressing their lips together. It was a short, tentative first kiss, a new meeting of sorts between them. The one that followed was much different, more languid and daring, unfurling slowly. Feeling like she might lose her footing Belle wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding tightly onto the stiff fabric of his vest. Even through the layers of clothing Rumple's characteristic warmth seeped into her skin, adding to the wonderfully-heady feeling of the kiss. Though she could tell he held himself back at first as the kiss continues Rumple melted against her, clawed fingers sinking into the fabric of her robe around the waist, scraping slightly against her skin.
Just as it felt like it might be too much too soon Gideon let out a loud wail, followed by pitiful little cries, fussing in a clear attempt to be picked up. It made the separation a little less awkward, Belle picking little Gid up and Rumple hovering at her back, looking over her shoulder at the fussy baby with the softest expression Belle had ever seen. Clearly, she was going to be the one to make rules and be sure Gid followed them when he grew up. Rumple was likely to do as the baby pleased.
They didn't say much else the rest of the night, though as the hours passed and Gideon continue to refuse to be put down on his cot they naturally made their way to her bedroom, Belle carefully placing Gideon in the middle before removing her robe and making her way under the covers. When Rumplestiltskin hesitated, she stretched out her hand towards him, glad when he had the presence of mind to change his clothes into something looser, and far less grimy. He hovered a few moments more, looking like he might bolt from the room before he slid into bed on Gideon's other side, smiling when the babe calmed down immediately and closed his eyes, apparently ready to sleep. A wonderful sort of intimacy stole over them, with little words needing to be spoken. Belle thought briefly about her future self, and how much she had likely fought for her child's happiness, and bowed to honour such sacrifice. She'd build a home for Gideon, both of them would. She would be a loving, nurturing mother and would raise Gideon up the best way she could.
"You know, we must not let him get used to this. He needs to know he can't just cry and get whatever he wants."
Rumple's sleepy little noise of ascent let her know he was, like her, on the verge of sleep. She yawned and burrowed into the sheets, happy in a way she hadn't felt before.
"Besides, I want him to have lots of siblings, and this way we will never get around to it."
"What?"