Chapter One

I am a villain.

Villains don't get happy endings.

"What if you could?" a familiar voice asked.

"What?" Rumplestiltskin mumbled, opening his eyes. In an act of self-sacrifice, he killed his father, formerly known as Peter Pan, in order to save his family, but ended up floating in an inky blackness.

Where his father was, he didn't know.

All he knew was he was alone and, to his surprise, at peace.

"What if you could have a happy ending?"

"I don't deserve one," he sighed, closing his eyes.

"You don't really believe that."

He heard a familiar giggling as he opened his eyes and pressed his lips together.

"Go away."

"You didn't answer me. Do you really believe you don't deserve a happy ending?"

"Even if I did, it's too late," he sighed, closing his eyes.

"It's never too late."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't." the voice said in a sing-song tone.

The giggling echoed in the darkness as a soft grunting sound filled the blackness then a low whirring sound followed by a dull thud and a sharp pain sailed up his right leg, causing him to scream and close his eyes tighter.

"Easy," a familiar voice said softly as fingers brushed back his hair then something warm and wet was pressed against his skin, making him sigh. "That's it. Go back to sleep."

"B-be-belle?" was all he managed to whisper as someone hushed him and gently patted his skin with something soft.

"I'm here," Belle said, but she sounded so far away. He moaned as she hushed him and his skin felt like it was on fire. He felt so tired and uncomfortable, but moving shot a sharp pain up his right leg, making him cry out. "No, don't try to move."

"It hurts."

"I know."

"Hold me," he pleaded when he felt arms wrapping around him as the blackness returned and he felt himself falling into it.

The world flickered in and out as he tried to keep his eyes open then his eyes cleared and he could see blue sky outside the window across the room. He looked at the lace curtains framing the window then at the small, wooden trunk under the window and blinked his eyes a few times. The walls of the room were a light stone with wooden beams in the corners and wooden beams in "x" shapes held up the wooden ceiling. The wooden furniture around the room was plain and he was lying on a wood framed bed with a feather mattress. There were three other windows in the room and he could just see the stone floor.

"Where am….?" he asked as he tried to sit up on his elbows, but pain roared up his right leg and he cried out.

"Rumple!?" a familiar voice called out when the wooden door opened and his heart jumped in his chest as Belle came in the room. She was wearing a light blue dress with a white apron tied around her waist and black slippers. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail by a leather cord and she looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Belle?" he asked softly as she came to the bed and sat on the edge, gently lowering him onto the mattress.

"Hello," she said with a small smile and he gave her a confused look.

"This is going to sound strange, but where are we?" he asked and she smiled at him, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"This is our home," Belle said then sighed, looking at her lap. "The healer did say you might not remember things due to the fever."

"I don't understand," he said then saw the tears in her eyes. "Please, Belle, don't cry."

"At least you remember me," she said and took his hand in hers. "Do you remember going off to fight in the war?"

"Yes, but that was…," he said as he tried to think, but his memories were jumbled and he closed his eyes tightly. "I remember pieces."

"I was so proud of you when you said you enlisted," she said and he sighed, half opening his eyes.

"I didn't want you to be a wife of a coward," he said softly.

"Well, now I am the wife of a clumsy idiot," she teased with a wide smile and he titled his head to one side. "You really don't remember?"

"No," he said then gave her a relaxed look. "Tell me what happened."

"Maybe it would be better if I told you in a story," she said and he gently squeezed her fingers.

"Alright," he said and she gently moved on the bed to sit closer to him.

"There once was a weaver who wanted to prove to everyone that he was not a coward like his father," she said and a sharp pain pierced his brain, causing him to hiss. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he said with a nod of his head and she gently stroked his hair back from his forehead. "Go on."

"This brave weaver said farewell to his pregnant wife…," she said and he looked at her stomach. He hadn't noticed the bump hidden by the apron and she softly smiled at him. He gently reached out his hand as she placed his hand on the bump and he slowly moved his fingers.

"We're…we're having a baby?"

"Yes," Belle said as he tried to remember, but trying caused pain to shoot through his head and he whimpered. "Hush now. It's alright."

"I don't…," he said as she hushed him and tears rolled slowly down his cheeks.

"You were so funny when I told you. All that screaming and spinning me around," she said, taking his hand and wrapped her fingers around his fingers. "I'm still trying to figure out if it's a boy or a girl."

"It's a boy," he whispered then pressed his lips together, wondering why he was so sure. "What happened to the brave weaver?"

"He went to the camp, but he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to fight," she said and he gave her a puzzled look. "He wasn't very strong."

"He was strong enough," he grumbled with a sour look on his face and she nodded her head. He thought of something when he sighed and looked at the ceiling. "Did he…Had he met a seer while he was in the camp?"

"No, there was no seer in the camp."

Something in the back of his mind whispered there had been one and she had told him something that would make him do something that would change his life.

"What did she tell me?" he whispered then saw the look on Belle's face. "Sorry, go on."

"The brave weaver tried his best to be like the other soldiers, but they would tease him and called him "Rumple the Runt"."

"And how did his wife find that out?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"He told her just before the fever took hold of him," she said and he placed her hand on his chest. Belle smiled as she felt the rise and fall of his chest as well as the light thump of his heart and he softly sighed.

"I bet he trained harder than the others just to spite them."

"He did and that is what caused the accident."

"How did it happen?"

"The soldiers were training with battle hammers. They used the battle hammers mostly to open kegs or crates, but the battle hammers were also used to bash in the heads of….," she said when Rumplestiltskin's face went ghost white and his eyes went wide. Memories flooded his mind of him learning that he was going to die in battle and never see his son. In his panic, he had picked up a large hammer and using the hammer on his right leg. He remembered the pain. He remembered screaming. He felt his heart slamming in his chest while he closed his eyes and tears streamed down his cheeks.

"I…I…I broke my leg on purpose!" he sobbed as he felt her lifting him up then sliding behind him. Gently, she wrapped her arms around him and he half turned on his left side, burying his face in her chest. She hushed him while rubbing his back and carefully rocked him back and forth.

"No, you didn't," she said in a calming tone, but he shook his head and sobbed, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Do you want me to tell you what happened?"

"Yes," he squeaked as he gulped in some air and she wiped the tears from his eyes. He felt safe in her arms as she rocked him and kissed the top of his head.

"It had been raining for days. The air was freezing cold and the ground had been turned into a mud pit. The captain didn't care how muddy the ground was or how cold it was and ordered the soldiers to drill using the battle hammers. The brave weaver picked the smallest of the battle hammers, it was the only one he could pick up, and held it tightly in his hands. He followed the others while they trained, but many of the others slipped and slid on the mud. The brave weaver was determined not to fall as he dug his feet in the soft ground and griped the handle of the battle hammer tightly in his hands. Arching the battle hammer high over his head, he went to swing the battle hammer, but lost his footing and the battle hammer soared out of his hands and into the air. He had fallen onto his back and didn't have time to move when the battle hammer sailed down and smashed into his right leg. He did scream, but didn't pass out and the others laughed at him. Determined not to show how much it hurt, he got up and half limped to his tent."

"Did he send for a healer?" Rumplestiltskin asked, looking up at her.

"Not for a few days. The brave weaver kept training and walked by hopping on one foot."

"He must have been in agony."

"He was. No one knew how much until he passed out and was taken to the healer. The captain ordered the healer to bring the brave weaver home and his wife helped the healer take care of her husband. The healer wasn't sure if her husband would die or just lose his leg and she was convinced he was right when the fever took her husband and his leg became infected."

"Did he…did he lose his leg?" Rumplestiltskin asked as he looked down the bed and was glad when he saw two lumps under the blankets.

"He came close," she said, kissing the top of his head. "The healer did say that her husband might lose some memories from the fever and his leg would be lame."

"How…how can he make a living with a lame leg?" he asked, looking at her.

"Well, the healer said it would take some time for the weaver to relearn how to walk and he can use the spinning wheel peddle with his left foot. That is if he's willing to try," she said as she lifted his chin and looked him in the eyes. "Are you?"

The front door opened as Rumplestiltskin held onto the wooden staff in his left hand and leaned slightly to favor his right leg. He worked for months to regain his ability to walk as he looked at the villagers walking by and he tried to get the courage to step out of the doorway. He didn't mind when Belle would softly giggle if he fell and sit on the floor instead of getting up right away, but, if any of the villagers laughed, he would never leave the house again.

"Coward," a familiar voice said then giggled and he frowned, holding tighter onto the wooden staff. Moving his left foot forward, he carefully stepped out of the doorway and closed the door behind him. He limped down the dirt road as villagers nodded their heads at him and he nodded back. No one seemed angry at him, but a few had pity in their eyes and he held tightly onto the wooden staff. After a few minutes, he headed for the small stone fountain when he sat on the edge of the fountain and placed the wooden staff next to him. He watched the villagers going by when a group of children gathered around him and he titled his head to one side.

"My father says you're a coward," one of the boys said with a smug look on his round face and he gave the boy a blank look.

"Did he?" Rumplestiltskin asked, arching his eyebrows up.

"He says you broke your leg on purpose so you didn't have to go fight," the boy said as he pointed to Rumplestiltskin's right leg and Rumplestiltskin looked at the other children.

"Do any of you want to hear how I did break it?" he asked and the children nodded their head, sitting on the ground. "To start with, I am not a coward and what happened was an accident. You see, rain had fallen for days on end and the ground had turned into sticky, oozing mud."

The children giggled at the sour face he made and he placed his hands on his knees.

"Now, my captain didn't care if we were on solid ground or in mud and wanted us to train."

"You're not strong enough to be a soldier," the same boy said and Rumplestiltskin gave him a look that made the boy shiver.

"Did you train with swords?" a little girl with dark, wavy hair and a round face asked.

"Yes, I did," Rumplestiltskin said with a grin. "I have been told that I am an excellent swordsman."

"Can you use a bow?" one of the other boys asked.

"Yes."

"What about a battle staff?" one of the other boys asked.

"Hmmm, yes, I can use one."

"Can you use a battle hammer?" one of the girls asked.

"Uh," Rumplestiltskin said then sighed, looking at his leg.

"Is that how you hurt your leg?" a little boy with wild brown hair and chocolate brown eyes asked.

"Yes, that's how," Rumplestiltskin said and some of the children giggled. He didn't get mad as he smiled and rolled his eyes. "Now it is true that I don't look very strong, I'm not, and picked the smallest of the battle hammers. So there I was, practicing with the battle hammer, when I slipped on the mud and landed on my back. The battle hammer went sailing out of my hands and into the air then came down so fast that I didn't have time to move. With a thud, it hit my leg and I tried so hard not to pass out. I did scream. The other men laughed at me being so clumsy, but I just got up and went to my tent."

"Did you want to cry when it hit your leg?" one of the girls asked.

"I felt like it."

"I would have cried," one of the boys said and Rumplestliltskin gave him a sad smile.

Belle was worried when Rumplestiltskin didn't return from his walk and she stood in the doorway, looking up and down the dirt road. She knew she should have gone with him, but he insisted he was ready to go out on his own. Sighing, she started to walk down the dirt road when she heard the sound of children laughing and was surprised when Rumplestiltskin coming toward her and he was surrounded by some of the village children. One of the little girls was holding his right hand as he stopped in front of her and looked down at the children.

"Thank you for helping me get home," he said as the children nodded their heads then ran off and he looked at Belle, giving her a smile. "You were coming to find me?"

"Well, you are late for supper," she said as he gave her a hurt look and she placed her arms around his waist. "I'll forgive you just this once."

Smiling, Rumplestiltskin placed the wooden staff against the wall, cupped her face in his hands then kissed her. He didn't care that some of the villagers were watching when he and Belle went forehead to forehead and softly smiled at each other. Handing him the wooden staff, Belle led him inside and the door slowly closed behind them.