It was supposed to be a beautiful day; the day every little girl dreamed about since they were old enough to know what it meant, and many long before that. To an outsider everything had looked perfect, but to the bride it looked as fake as the facade it was built upon.
The screams had stopped and she would not allow herself to think what had caused them to cease. Instead, she closed her eyes tightly and focused on breathing. Ragged, uneven struggles for air slowed as she looked at the inside of her eyelids and allowed the chaos to disappear. That chaos had been her wedding day only moments before. It was small, only her father, her in-laws and the necessary witnesses had been invited. Her family had respected her wishes concluding she didn't want them to have to sacrifice much in the means of expenses. But in fact, she wanted it small because it would be easier to conceal.
Most marry for love, some for titles and others for money; this bride was tying the knot because she simply had no choice. She forced herself to open her eyes. Tilting her head back from her spot on the ground and staring off to her right, she laid eyes on the still form of what was almost her husband. Gaston would have taken care of her, cherished her, and loved her out of duty and in ways that she could have never loved him. His sword lay loose in his hand, utterly useless; his wine colored tunic turned a sickly shade of brown as it dried with his own blood and his eyes looked back at her, open but peacefully empty. She whimpered and looked away, unable to suppress the feeling that he now lay dead because of her; she should have never involved him in things such as these.
With a shaky hand, she used what was left of her strength and moved her hand from the grass and onto her belly. Swollen with her unborn child, she couldn't stop her sobs as it dawned on her Gaston wasn't the only one that would suffer because of her actions. Blood soaked the front of her gown, forever ruining the once flawless ivory material. The sticky feeling at her back made her wonder just how much of the fluid was hers and she fought the urge to roll onto her side and vomit. Her breathing became ragged again as dull pains and tremors shook her abdomen and she prayed to any higher power that might be listening.
"Please, gods, please-"
"They cannot hear you little one. No one can hear you." a woman cackled from the distance. At the voice she closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip in an effort not to scream. The presence of that voice meant one thing, they were all dead, everyone was dead, she was the last survivor and they had come to finish the job.
"Cora!" a deep voice barked and the hag fell silent, the man continued, "Enough…"
A wooden isle that led to the flowered archway had been laid in the grass; rain hung heavy in the air and it was supposed to provide ample footing for the bride and groom to say their vows. Most of it was now ripped up but the sound of heavy footfalls could be heard on it as the man made his way towards the demolished alter. The bride opened her eyes slowly and turned her head, laying sight on the man's well-made leather boots. She knew those boots and her heart quickened, each breath drawing out a ragged wheeze from her lungs.
"Belle…" he said gently as she refused to look at him. His voice was absent giggles or quips and she burst into tears at the sound; a sound that once filled her heart to bursting with another emotion entirely. Her wheezing became quicker and higher in pitch and he quickly crouched down by her side and cooed gently over her broken body.
"Shh..shh, my darling," he said as he removed a black silk handkerchief and dabbed at the gash on her forehead before folding it to a clean side and mopping up the blood at the corner of her mouth. She looked up at him finally and he smiled, a quick upturn of one side of his lips before it was gone entirely. This wasn't his fault. The bottom line was he was not to blame, she had to remember that.
"Do you think me sadistic?" he said gently, moving the cloth to clean the other side of her lips with the most delicate of touches. "You're angry with me. That I can tell." He adjusted himself so he could crouch closer to her without falling over, his forearm balanced on his leather breeches, while his free hand brushed the hair away from her face. Brown ringlets clung to the skin of her cheek, damp with her own blood, and he tenderly moved each one out of her sight.
"Oh Belle," he continued as she remained silent, sobbing again at his affections towards her. "I assure you there is nothing sadistic in my actions," he paused and let out a high pitched giggle that made her stomach churn. "Well, maybe towards the other peasants, but not you. Never to you."
"R-Rumple-" she choked out softly, keeping a hand on her stomach protectively and looking him in the eyes.
"No, Belle," he started again, not hearing her, "I assure you this is me at my most masochistic." With that his laughter faded and he brushed his fingers across her lips lightly before puling back.
Belle swallowed hard and tried again, keeping her focus on the man staring back at her. She met his cold reptilian eyes with as much gusto as she could muster. "Rumple," her voice much more certain than last time as she spoke through teeth gritted from the pain, "It's-…it's your baby."
His eyes grew wide and whatever small scrap of humanity was within the corners of his black soul swam to the surface. Belle saw reflected in his gaze that he still might be salvaged, that the man behind the monster was still worth saving. She was the only one left who could do it. An inhuman screech could be heard from off in the distance and the Dark One moved to protect the fallen bride. There was a loud explosion and the crackling of flames. Her body tensed and she cried out before closing her eyes and giving in to the darkness.